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Dear readers,

I hope that you enjoy reading this story. For a long time, I've been a reader. Ever since I was little, I always dreamed about writing something. Now, I can. I got the confidence to publish this as a first draft.

This story is based on my personal experience. With this story, I want to remind you all that not all friendships are real. And that some people who you think are nice aren't.

A Thousand Years | Christina Perri 

That's My Girl | Fifth Harmony

Never Wanna Leave | Glenn Travis

Castaway | Lightboys 

Bad Guy | Selena Gomez

ME! | Taylor Swift

Not Another Love Song | Ella Mai

Karma | Queen Naija

Look What You Made Me Do | Taylor Swift 

Love Me Like You Do | Ellie Goulding 

Roar | Katy Perry

Most Girls | Hailee Steinfeld

Black Magic | Little Mix

I made some aesthetics for the main three characters in this story. I don't own the images used in them, but the final look is mine. If you see these elsewhere, please report them to me promptly.

Roselynn Jiminez-Cruz

Millicent Campbell

Tyler Parker

This book is dedicated to those who feel that they're not good enough. Whether if it's being strong enough, looking good enough, or simply, being enough. You're one of a kind. You deserve a lot.

Let's just face it. We all have friends, right? I mean, is there a single person out there who hasn't had a friend their entire life? Or if not a friend, at least someone who's had their back during a difficult situation? No one is entirely alone, even if they feel like they are.

Certainly, everyone at Westdale High School has someone like that. A friend, a sidekick, a loyal supporter. No matter what clique they belong to, everyone has someone. And the higher ranking clique you're in, the more friends you have. That is—the more trusted people you have standing by your side.

Having a lot of friends practically doubles your chances of getting a nice boyfriend.

I've read various romance novels and watched a lot of movies about all that sappy stuff. They all make it look ridiculously easy to seduce guys and fall in love. But in reality, it's way more difficult. I've always wanted a boyfriend, but no one has ever bothered to ask me out. I've waited patiently for years for something to happen and nothing ever has. When will someone actually notice me?

Unpopular people at school, like me, deserve some type of recognition from the popular students. We've endured a lot, more than you'd think. More than we show. People say it's not easy being famous, but it's a heck of a lot harder to be at the bottom of the food chain, always under people's feet. I would know.

I want that to change. I want the power, the boyfriend, the adoration. I'll wait forever to get it if I have to, no matter how long that forever takes. Or maybe—just maybe—the solution to all my problems lies in climbing the Westdale social ladder. After all, the more popular I am, the more people I'll know, and the more boys will be looking my way. If I can't change the social order I may as well change my place in it.

Of course, I'm not a nerd or a geek. I'm just an average student. Totally normal. I could be doing worse, if I'm being honest. Still, I don't doubt that no one wants to be in my place; no one envies my lot in life. I'm not special.

I do have friends—like I said, everyone does. They're sweet and fun, and I care about them deeply. But we're unlike in one way: they don't share my opinions about popularity. They think that being popular, belonging to the cool cliques, is just some tacky joke. 

They look down on the queen bees and male heartthrobs of my school. What they don't understand is that I would give anything, absolutely anything, to be friends with one of them—with one of the cool kids— just for a day.

Anything.

I wouldn't care if it was a romantic relationship (my ultimate dream) or even just a simple friendship, as long as I could get a small taste of that sweet popularity. I mean, it isn't just a tacky joke, is it, being part of that other, popular world? Not for me, anyway. 

It's something more serious, something which would change my life. And the popular students look friendly. They're attractive and they're always laughing with each other. It's not like they're predators or anything. Right? Right.

What could possibly go wrong?

Specks of sunlight peeked through the glass windows of the classroom, reflecting off of students who paid no care to it. I shielded my eyes with my hands, paying no interest to whatever happened outdoors. Decorations with pastel hues draped from the ceiling. The foot of them draped in front of the shutters, making the classroom look like a colorful environment.

The corner of my eye focused on the students beside me, Bianca Stewart and Morgan Allen. They snuck peeks at their laps where their phones lurked. What they were doing was apparent since the two of them are inseparable friends. At Westdale, they are known for being the gossip girls of the popular clique.

Whenever they walk in the broad corridors of this school, several eyes turn to them in awe. Sometimes, I wish that could happen to me. Whenever I walk down the halls, I don't gain any attention, especially from the elites.

If only people like me could get as much attention as them.

My thoughts were interrupted as I heard the clatter of the teacher's heels brush against the floor. They were louder than the birds that chirped a melodious tune outside. She walked to where Morgan and Bianca were, her calm expression fading into a disappointed frown.

Ms. Davis is passionate about her students learning in her class. If she sees anything suspicious that is distracting to learning, she is always the first to address it. It appeared that she only had a few years of experience as a teacher based on how young she looks, but she is one of Westdale High's finest teachers.

"Ahem," Ms. Davis cleared her throat, her hands planting to her hips. "Why do you two keep looking down at your lap? What is making it more important than my lesson?"

Several eyes turned to the three as if they were the spotlight of a school theatre performance. I tapped my fingers on my desk that was hard as stone as everyone waited for an answer from one of the girls.

Both of their mouths stayed still like frosty ice stuck to a pond. Bianca exchanged a hesitant glance to Morgan she turned to Ms. Davis, her glare getting sharper within every moment.

"Well . . . it's n-nothing. We were just l-looking down at o-our laps." Morgan stammered, attempting her best to sound normal.

"Nice try, Ms. Allen, but I don't believe you—" Ms. Davis sighed before being interrupted by the blaring noise of the last bell that rang.

It was louder than an elephant's roar. The bell echoed throughout the corridors of the building and in the classrooms. Everyone turned to their backpacks as they packed their things to leave.

"Class is dismissed," Ms. Davis announced while looking at the clock that resided in front of the classroom. Her stern glare turned back to Bianca and Morgan. "If I ever catch you two on your phones instead of paying attention in my class, things will not go well. You should never take advantage of your education."

Bianca croaked, making her biggest eye roll possible. "We get it, Ms. Davis. Have a lovely day."

She stormed out of the classroom quicker than the speed of lightning. Morgan followed her soon after, cursing complaints under her breath as silent as possible. Ms. Davis let out an enormous groan as she trudged back to her desk, her eyes focused on the endless amount of papers she had to grade.

I can't say that I disagree with her here. She is right that students cannot take advantage of the education opportunity they have. Unfortunately, most modern-day students could care less about paying attention in their classes. They care more about whatever is on their cell phones, whether it's new gossip or burning rumors.

There is always an excuse.

I tossed my backpack over my shoulders, my sleek, mocha hair laying loose on the straps. I made a beeline from the classroom to my locker, the forest green paint luring me closer to it. I made my best attempt to ignore Bianca and Morgan as they had a deep conversation in front of it.

I hope that they will go away soon. I do not have the entire day to wait just to grab a few belongings out of my locker. But unfortunately, they still resided at my locker, not noticing that I was there.

"Hey, excuse me," I mumbled, loud enough for them to hear. "You're standing in front of my locker. Can you please move over?"

"I'm sorry for the inconvenience, hon. We'll move over." Morgan gestured Bianca to several lockers away from mine.

The two were about to walk off until a smug voice of another girl lured them to stay.

"Hey, Bianca and Morgan," the girl chimed. "Has anything new happened?"

She is not just anyone—she's Millicent Campbell, the most-known, most gorgeous, and wealthiest elite of the tenth grade. Everyone's eyes are always on her, most of which are desperate for a wave from her. I can understand why—she's endlessly stunning. Her effortlessly appealing tresses always draped down to her back, matching whatever designer outfit she wore. She is the definition of flawless.

Who would not want to look like her?

Her frigid eyes narrowed at me for a moment, then back to her friends as her hands were planted on her hips. "Who's this girl?"

"We don't know. We were just leaving," Bianca replied, motioning the other two to follow her to nearby water fountains. "By the way, we do have something to tell you. I'll tell you all about it over there."

"This should be interesting," Millicent shrugged her shoulders, her salmon lips puckering into a smug smile.

The three of them strutted several lockers down from me, their discussion becoming inaudible as they trudged farther.

Getting Bianca and Morgan away from my locker was a successful, but yet a fail. If Millicent had not come to my locker and stole all the attention, getting Morgan and Bianca away would have been easier. In the end, I tried my best instead of staying silent.

My fingers lingered on the combination lock of my locker, turning to the three numbers of my combination. The lock unlatched within one try, revealing the active tornado inside. Papers of all shapes, sizes, and hues set a blanket over textbooks and books I have borrowed from the school library.

I vowed to myself to keep it tidy, but I failed to do so no matter how many times I tried. Maybe one day I'll try again, and hopefully succeed.

My hands clasped on a textbook and folder on the shelf of my locker, stuffing them inside my overfilled backpack afterwards.

When I finished getting everything I needed, I slammed the door shut and went off for the school exit that led to the student parking lot. Today, my older brother Rafael is giving me a ride home, which is one of the most unfortunate events of the school day.

Take it from me—Rafael drives faster than a speeding bullet. Maybe some people would find that more convenient than driving slower than paint could dry, but I always found it the opposite. I mainly don't like my brother's driving because I don't want to witness him getting a speeding fine and my parents getting infuriated because of that.

Otherwise, I don't mind the faster drive of getting home. School is already a pain in the neck, and getting in the loving environment of home sets a better mood for the rest of the afternoon.

My hands thrusted against one of the many exit doors in sight as I pushed it open, paying no care to whatever was happening behind me. It was nice to be in the natural environment, rather than seeing posters of many tints plastered against the walls and doors of the school.

Sunshine shone from the clear sky, reflecting off of students who brushed passed each other in groups or independently. I rubbed my forehead with the back of my hand as sweat trickled down it. Even if it is not summer yet, it felt like it was.

"Hey, Rose," a perky voice chimed from behind me. "We're here."

She is not just anyone—she's one of my two best friends, Lizzie Daniels. Her blonde hair draped down to her shoulders and upper back, over her mirrored eyeglasses. My other best friend, Tracey Johnson—best known for being in Westdale's cheerleading squad. Her lush raven hair was done in box braids, wrapped up into a bun covered by a forest green bow.

Lizzie and Tracey are the best friends I could ever have, and I am lucky to have them. But even if we have a close bond, we do have our disagreements—especially about the popular clique and being an elite. As much as I wish to become noticed at school, they do not. They would rather stay the way they are.

If an opportunity for all students at Westdale High to switch their social statuses at school for one day came up, they would ditch the opportunity to know what it feels like to be an elite. I know then an event like this would never happen under any circumstance. No one would allow it, especially the elites—who believe that everyone should stick to the status quo.

"Hi," I smiled, greeting them both with a brief hug.

"We just came to visit you before I get to cheer practice, and Lizzie gets to her chess club," Tracey enlightened, her gaze turning to the overcrowded exit doors that opened and shut.

"Oh, alright. You two should get going now. I don't want you to be late," I stated, shadowing my eyes from the sunlight that gleamed over me.

"We were," Lizzie declared, brushing her feet against the sidewalk. "See you later, Rose."

"Bye," I called out, waving my hand graciously as they disappeared into the school.

Except for the melodious sound nearby birds sang, I was alone with no one to chat with. I don't mind being alone . . . It's just that I wish that I could be closer to more people. I would hardly ever feel lonely, but I already know that getting closer to others is almost impossible for me.

My thoughts were interrupted by the blaring noise of a car horn. The car pulled up at the curb of the road, the passenger seat's window rolling down. My brother Rafael was inside, motioning me to come inside so we could head home. I cautiously opened the door and slumped into my seat, setting my backpack on the floor in front of my feet.

"Hola, Rose," he welcomed me inside. "Ready to go?"

"Of course I am," I replied while fastening my seatbelt.

"Bueno." He stated, his gaze turning to the steering wheel of the car.

The car didn't smell delightful. The mildew of putrid sweat covered the welcoming scent of vanilla air freshener that clearly did not work on sweat. Because Rafael is a basketball player at school and has PE class, it made sense that the car smelled like this—along with him driving his sweaty friends home from basketball practice twice a week.

Being a basketball player at Westdale does have its disadvantages, such as being smelly for a while, but it does have its benefits. The main benefit of being a basketball player—or a player of any sport can raise anyone's social status. That makes it possible for anyone to become part of the popular clique. Even if I am known as a nobody at school, Rafael is not. He is a well-known senior at school, while I am practically invisible.

Being invisible at school has never been my wish, but I will just have to deal with it for the time being.

We pulled out of the school and onto the road to get home. I feel excited to get there. At home, there were no blaring bells that rang obnoxiously, or teachers who shouted at misbehaving students. There was silence—maybe too much. Mom and Dad are occupied with work often, attempting their best to provide for the family so there could be food on the table.

The roaring sounds of cars and busses rushing down the street and Rafael's brisk driving interrupted my thoughts. The ride felt faster than a rollercoaster, urging me to hold on to myself tightly. Rafael's lips puckered into a smug smirk as he slowed down a bit, even if the ride still felt faster than a cheetah could run.

I rolled my eyes as my gaze turned to the window, where all the houses, buildings, and trees we passed felt like a blur. All I want from now on is a normal ride home where I do not have to worry about looking out the window and seeing everything go by swiftly.

"Can you drive slower? We could get caught by a police going above the speed limit any minute now," I grumbled to Rafael as I crossed my arms, my fists clenching together firmly.

"Nope, I will not," he stated, his shoulders raising with no mind. "We will get home in about five minutes, anyway."

"Whatever," I mumbled under my breath.

Even if we are only a few minutes away from home, I have a feeling in my gut that the ride will feel longer than it should be. I guess I'll be considered lucky if I survive five more minutes inside this car.

Everyone knows how awkward and disgusting it is to take public transportation, such as the school bus. Seriously, why would I, Millicent Campbell want to ride the school bus? I'm too flawless for that, especially since everyone at school sees me as a practical star.

As easy as it sounds, it isn't. When you're like me, you have to look like you've just stepped out of a beauty magazine. That means you have to know how to do your make-up perfectly, walk like a model, and dress excellent at all times. Or else, your popularity would be considered as a big, fat joke. 

The popular clique is the best and most-appreciated group of the entire Westdale High School. Depending on where you are on the social ladder, the more recognition you get. At the bottom of the social ladder, there are the wannabes. They're the people that get no attention whatsoever. Clearly, they're people part of different cliques, such as the nerds and geeks, who are considered as nothing. 

The second part of the ladder are people of virtue. They're well-known and loyal, but not at the top. Some of them are people like Nova Anderson and Lin Jeong. Then, there are sports players of all kinds, such as basketball and football. Some of them are Tyler Parker and Landon Archer, who have spectacular reputations throughout the school. 

On the very top of the social ladder, was, of course, the most popular girls, who everyone treats like a Queen, like Mercedes Mallard and I. We've been at this spot for a few years now. Our perpetual beauty makes us look perfect for the spot. Especially since both of our families have loads of money. 

My father is a highly-paid lawyer, while my mother is a profoundly-paid realtor, making our family wealthy. This boosts my social status all the way up, which is what I adore. Getting attention makes me feel special, and not like a worthless piece of gum stuck to the bottom of someone's shoe. 

My best friend, Mercedes, and I are waiting for our rides to get home. School is done for the day and I plan on going to the salon before home to complete my homework. I put an arm over Mercedes' shoulder in sympathy as I stared at my phone. 

"So, how has your day been, Millicent?" She questioned, viewing Instagram photos on her phone.

Her long box braids were wrapped into a back ponytail. She wore black, ripped jeans, along with a ruby red-colored blouse. Her strawberry-red lipstick made her lips shine brightly through the radiance of the sun. She looked exquisite, like usual. 

"My day wasn't so good. I almost got a detention slip in math class. You know how much I hate those," I replied while primping a piece of my fresh blonde hair.

"I remember. I saw what happened earlier. It wasn't fair at all." She complained, crossing her arms. 

Today, during Ms. Jennings' math class, I was on my phone texting a few friends to look for juicy gossip. There was one point where I almost got caught when the teacher went to the back of the room to get a few supplies. But only a few minutes later, I got caught red-handed with my phone out by her. 

She confiscated my phone out of my hands and told me to see her after class, which is what I did about twenty minutes later. After, she told me that if she caught me on my phone during class again, I'd have to serve detention, which sucks.

Definitely, I know what having to serve detention feels like. I had to a couple of times for pointless reasons, such as talking with friends during classes. At this point, it's a lot. It's not like I did any harm to anyone.  

"Exactly," I grumbled, looking down at my freshly-done acrylic nails, "Her class is the full definition of boring."

"I agree." Mercedes sympathized, taking out a compact mirror. 

What I said about Ms. Jennings' math class wasn't wrong. Her tiresome lectures make me want to fall asleep during class. But of course, I'll never do that, as much as I want to. I'll miss out on important things, such as the latest gossip at the moment—and class, as well. There are many things that I'd miss. 

"Look at this outfit I found on Instagram. Doesn't it look nice?" I questioned, showing my phone to Mercedes. 

"It does," she agreed, "I think I saw something similar at the mall. We should go shopping this weekend. After all, your birthday is coming up."

My sixteenth birthday is right around the corner. I want it to be special, better than my last one. That's my goal at every party I host. The better the party, the more people appreciate you, which is what I want, especially because I'm part of the popular clique. It's mandatory to host breathtaking events, or else, that's the bottom of the social ladder for you. 

"Perfect! We'll make plans for it," I exclaimed, looking back at the school. 

The doors opened and shut constantly. Students socialized with each other noisily with faces glued to the screen of their phones, catching up on the latest drama. A few couples strode by, chattering with each other as a group. I'm friends with everyone in the group, except Charles "Charlie" Tomlinson, my ex-boyfriend. 

He's a walking nightmare to me. I first thought of him as a loyal person, and later, a loyal boyfriend. But he turned out to be one of what I thought. It was my mistake for dating him in the first place. If only I knew who he actually was. 

"Hey, Millicent and Mercedes!" Lucas Jameston smiled, greeting us at our bench. 

His blonde-colored hair shone through the radiant sunlight. He wore a dark green hoodie and black jeans, which represented our school's spirit colors. On this hoodie, it wrote Go Mighty Hawks. He is part of the school's basketball team, so that's the main reason why he's wearing that. 

"Hi, guys!" I waved, smiling warmly. 

Charles stared at me with a solemn glance. He looked miserable. Part of me wanted to feel sorry for him, while the other part didn't. I shouldn't feel sorry for him one bit, especially after how he broke my heart. I started to glare at him, causing the others to turn their attention to me. How could I be happy when this monster, Charles is still in my life? He'd do anything to ruin it.

And I mean anything.

"Are you okay, Millicent?" Elijah Walker worried.

"I'm fine." I lied, clutching my hands together. 

I appreciate my friends caring about me, but I just don't want them to worry so much about me. This is my issue, so I shouldn't make it theirs. 

"I'll just go. Bye, guys!" Charles announced, hurrying away.

It was about time that he left. I just can't stand being anywhere near him. Why would I want to be near someone as discourteous as him? I know way better than that. 

"Ready to go to the bookstore, Lucas?" Lin Jeong chimed, holding onto his hand.

The two of them have been a couple for about a year. I'm happy for them. It's nice that they're both loyal to each other. Sometimes, I wish I could have a guy like that. One who wouldn't cheat and be dishonest about it. 

"Of course, Lin! We'll go now!" Lucas proclaimed, staring back at me, "Bye, guys! See you tomorrow!"

"Bye!" Lin grinned, walking off with her boyfriend and group. 

"See you tomorrow!" I waved, checking the time on my smartwatch.

My mom was supposed to pick me up ten minutes ago. I'm guessing she is going to be late, like usual. My salon appointment will be starting in thirty minutes. If she doesn't make it in time, then I'll have to go to the spa another day, which is horrible.

"You definitely need a new boyfriend, Millicent." Mercedes suggested, "You've been acting strange ever since you broke up with Charles!" 

"I know, I know. But I'm sure I'll manage until then, I hope." I anticipated, glimpsing at my watch again.

Mom was still nowhere in sight, unfortunately. 

Right then, a car pulled up at the curb of the sidewalk. The windows rolled down, allowing me to me see the person inside of it. There was an appealing boy, possibly a senior at this school. He seemed grown-up and mature, definitely my type. He looked familiar, too. I think he's one of the basketball players on the school's basketball team. I definitely saw him before. 

A familiar-looking Hispanic girl entered the car. A few moments later, they pulled off. I'd love to see that guy again. He's flawless from what I've seen. Earnestly, I need him as my boyfriend. 

"What are you staring at?" Mercedes inquired, looking around. 

"Did you just see the guy in that car that just stopped by?" I answered, worthy in admiration, "He looks so cute if you ask me. He's definitely my type. I just know it."

"Oh, really?" She smirked, "So you like him?"

"Yes!" I replied, nodding up and down. 

"I wonder if he has a girlfriend." She rambled, tapping her chin in thought. 

If he doesn't have a girlfriend, then this is my chance. But the problem is, I don't know if he has one or not. There'd be only one way to find out if he does have one. 

"I know how we can find out if he has a girlfriend." I suggested, winking, "We can pretend to be friends with the girl that was with him. She's in a few of our classes and the lower clique, so it'd be easy to convince her."

"That's such a genius plan! Her name is Roselynn or something!" Mercedes' eyes lit up, "Let's message her on Instagram. She'll definitely say yes."

I can hear a little voice in my head saying that one day, I'll get to date my mystery crush. Or maybe with doubt, I won't. There are so many possibilities of what will happen. 

To my surprise, Rafael and I made it back home safely, without any speeding fines or injuries. Though I feel very annoyed about this, I also feel grateful that I'm finally at home. 

"Mom, we're home!" I exclaimed, slipping my shoes off of my feet. 

The traditional, greasy smell of tacos greeted us as we got inside, covering the smell of chamomile air freshener. It was a welcoming scent, making me feel at home already. 

"You two are home! How was your day?" Mom questioned, cutting up a tomato. 

"It was just typical. My teachers gave us lots of homework." Rafael replied, setting his backpack on the floor. 

"You'll get through all of it." Mom reassured him, putting a knife into the sink. 

"I hope so." He sighed, collapsing at the table. 

Based on how Rafael is, he hates homework more than me. It makes him less involved in his sports. Even if I don't like the same things he does, homework still abstains me from doing things I love, such as reading nonstop. 

"What about you, Rose?" Mom turned to me, "How was your day?"

"It was fine, I guess. I have some homework to do, along with a test to study for." I groaned, placing my backpack on a chair. 

I feel exhausted. Today felt endless, and with the lack of sleep I got last night, I'm drained. With everything I have to do, I'll feel like this for a while. I know that I will manage. I'm used to feeling tired. But sometimes, maybe I overdo myself by staying up at night reading books. 

"You two should get something to eat before starting on homework. I'm making tacos. They're almost finished. Do you want some?" Mom offered, getting plates out of a cabinet. 

"Yes please, Mama!" Rafael shrugged, pouring mango juice into his cup.

"I'd love some!" I forced a smile, putting my hands together. 

Mom's tacos are my favorite. I haven't had much other than hers, especially ones from restaurants. Because of her traditional ways, it's almost impossible to eat food that isn't homemade. I don't mind. It's just that she can get extra over it.

"Here are the tacos!" Mom beamed joyfully, setting a few plates down on the table.

"Gracias!" Rafael and I acknowledged.

Taking a small bite, I already savored my taco. It tasted great, like usual. It started to distract me from being tired, although, I still felt like it. 

While eating, I pulled out my phone. I decided to go on Instagram to look at photos. Mainly from the popular students at school. Before doing so, I come across a shocking notification.

I took a closer look at what it was. The last people expected to follow me... Actually followed me. No, it wasn't Taylor Swift and Shawn Mendes. Or the president and first lady. It was the popular girls at school, Millicent Campbell and Mercedes Mallard!

But why? What caused them to follow me?

* * *

After I finished my meal, I went upstairs to start on homework. But before that, I'll call Lizzie to tell her what just happened. She has to know. She'll be shocked, maybe more than I am.

I dialed her, waiting for her to respond to the call. I know that she's in her chess club right now, but this can't wait for later. I'd be in that club with Lizzie right now, however, I always refused to join the club. It's just too geeky. Not to mention that it would make my horrible social status go even lower. 

"Lizzie! I have to tell you something." I exclaimed the second she answered the call. 

"What is it, Rose?" She questioned curiously. 

"I called you just to tell you one thing. Millicent and Mercedes, the popular girls followed me on Instagram." I cheered excitedly, turning on my laptop.

What should I expect in her reaction? Lizzie is a really suspicious person. She's suspicious of everything. It's useful, but sometimes, it's bothersome. Especially when some things don't sound peculiar. 

"That sounds kind of odd, Rose. Millicent and Mercedes are very popular at our school. People like them don't pay much attention to people like us." Lizzie mused, "You know that."

See what I mean? There's nothing suspicious about that. I mean, I could say it's a little odd, but I'm sure there's nothing wrong.

This is exactly what I meant about being too suspicious. I'm sure that there's nothing skeptical about the two girls following me. It isn't anything else, right?

"Yeah, but think. Maybe they'll finally notice me now! I mean, I do have a class with them." I pondered, tapping my fingers on my desk.

"You do have a point." She replied in agreement, "Well, I have to go now. The teacher doesn't like it when we use our phones during chess club. Bye!"

"Bye!" I ended the call. 

Now that I finished the call, I can finally start on my homework. However, before I could even lay my fingers on the keyboard of my laptop, my phone starts chiming, meaning I got a notification. What is this all about? 

I picked up my phone once again to see something incredible. It's a message from Mercedes Mallard, the girl who just followed me.

Mercedes: Hey, Roselynn! Millicent and I wanted to know if you would want to come to sit with us at lunch tomorrow. If you can, please let us know.

Me: I'd be more than happy to sit with you at lunchtime tomorrow. You have lunch in the fifth period, right?

Mercedes: Yeah, I do. I can't wait for lunch tomorrow! 

Me: See you then!

What did I just witness? Millicent and Mercedes actually want me to sit with them at lunch tomorrow? I'm too excited about the fact that I could throw my phone out of the window. On second thought, I won't do that since it would take a while for my parents to buy me a brand-new one since it would probably break.

Before I start on my homework, I should find something to wear tomorrow. It will be a special day.

I leaped out of my upholstered roller chair and walked to my closet. I'm trying to find something precise. I need something chic! I'm not trying to look like a total jerk. Should I wear a skirt or some pants? What impression should I make when I approach them? This is getting hard, already.

If I make my best impression on the popular girls, it will have two advantages. First, it'll make them want to be friends with me. Secondly, it'll make my crush, Tyler Parker does the same.

He's charming! His dark brown hair, his light brown eyes, his beautiful, light brown skin, his smile—everything about him is cute! I discovered my crush on him back in seventh grade, a long time ago. From that time on, he never noticed me.

Typical.

I'm vague to him. He doesn't know who I am. Maybe he'll never? There are a few possibilities. Mom, a huge enthusiast would say, "Everything happens for a reason, Roselynn!"

But what is this reason?

I put down my phone, and started looking through my whole closet for something intriguing! An outfit that isn't plain! An outfit that would make Millicent and Mercedes die to be friends with me. 

I rummaged through the closet, searching high and low. Everything I saw wasn't good enough. It was either too plain or too much. I need something that's just right!

Soon enough, I found something. A bright-yellow, knee-level skirt, along with a matching, white t-shirt. It's simple but good enough. Skirts aren't something I'd normally wear, but it's worth it. Tomorrow, I'll look my best for those two. And with this appearance, I might as well impress my crush, Tyler Parker. 

This could be my biggest impression yet.