I suppose there is a point in everyone’s life where they have a…an epiphany. A revelation.

This epiphany is really quite simple.

And yet, it honestly makes life so different.

The epiphany I’m talking about is the reason for this story.

It is, to put it lightly, the reason I am where I am.

Note, I do not say “where I am at.”

You see, that is the reason for my epiphany. I am a grammar freak. It was a sentence like the above that changed everything.

But my epiphany. My revelation, if you will.

There is a point in everyone’s life where they realize that they are, in fact, a loser.

I don’t mean to sound pessimistic.

Well, yes I do.

I have found that life is much less painful when you expect the worst. After auditioning for a choir or play, I always assume that I won’t make it. When it’s snowing, I always assume there will be school.

When you set yourself for the worst, the best is so much better.

I know that might not make sense at first, but think about it.

If you expect something bad…won’t the good seem so much better than it would have if you were expecting it?

This is my reason for pessimism.

I have a reason for most of what I do.

Well, generally.

But I digress.

It was a day much like the day I’m sure you’re having. Boring, mundane. Don’t deny it. You must be bored or you wouldn’t waste your time reading my tale of woe.

And I digress again. Now to the actual story.

I was sitting complacently in my desk when something hit my head. Something wet. A spoon covered in pink goo bounced onto my homework and looked innocent. I reached up and poked my head. Yes. Pink ice cream in my hair. Oh, joy.

And, no. I’m that that ubiquitous “outsider” kid who’s in all the stories. I have lots of friends. I’m mostly nice to everyone, and everyone is mostly nice to me.

So there is no reason for me to be getting hit in the head with an ice-cream covered spoon. Especially during sociology class.

I turned around and glared at the culprit.

Brian Lancaster.

The class’ most famous jock.

Before you get any ideas in your head about the whole “quiet girl meets jock boy and they fall in love” cliché, let me explain some things. I am not quiet. Certainly not, as anyone who knows me will say. And, more importantly, Brian Lancaster is obscenely in love with his girlfriend, Amber, who is a shy and quiet bookworm.

Now that’s cleared up.

Back to the matter at hand.

“Why did you throw an ice cream spoon at my head?” I demanded. Brian looked confused.

“I didn’t throw…oh, that ice cream spoon. Sorry, it sort of flipped out of my hand. You know how pencils sometimes do? It was like that. Honest.” He made puppy-dog eyes at me and looked so cute and four-year-old-ish.

“Gah. Fine. Just don’t do it again.” I was too forgiving. Far, far too forgiving. But he had looked so cute, that I couldn’t help myself.

I don’t like him. Not that way. He’s the type of guy who could never be a romantic interest to me, but is brotherlier. It’s rather refreshing.

And he isn’t a dumb jock.

He’ll probably be valedictorian. He and Amber are graduating this year, and our school will miss them both. They were our favorite cliché. Next year, they’ll be going to the same college. After that, the widespread opinion is that they’ll get married.

It was nice of our teacher to give us work time, but what exactly were we supposed to work on? The sociology homework was so easy; it only took about five minutes.

I’m just going to dispel all thoughts now. I probably won’t fit into any cliché. Not the prep/goth, the girl-and-best-friend, the love/hate, or any others. First off, there are really no borders between preps and goths at my school (and if there were, I still wouldn’t be either). Secondly, all of my best friends are female, and I am far too obsessed with manga guys to like girls. And I don’t hate anyone, except for a few teachers.

Oh, and don’t expect any student/teacher clichés either. Ew. Just ew.

So ha.

I do try my hardest not to fit into clichés.

It usually works. Sometimes I’ll fall for the other half of a cliché, but nothing ever happens.

I have no love life.

It’s really kind of sad.

My friend Tandy says I need to flaunt what I’ve got (not much) and lure the guys in (with what?).

Yeah right.

But anyways. Back to Brian.

“Well, hey, while you’re talking, you’re a girl, right?” Brian said cheerfully. I would have paid big money to see my face. I would have stood on that crazy stage and I would have spun the light-up wheel and I would yell “Big money! Big money!”

“Well, I do like to think I am,” I said bemusedly.

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry. But hey, do you think you could help me?” he asked.

“Depends.”

“On?”

“On what you’re going to ask me.”

Brian blinked. He may be booksmart, but the boy has absolutely no common sense.

“Right. What should I get Amber for our first anniversary?”

And, you know, that isn’t something you expect to hear. You’d assume he’d know Amber well enough after a year that he wouldn’t have to ask me. Honestly.

“I don’t know. Shouldn’t you know?”

“Well, I asked her what she wanted and she just smiled that cute little smile of hers and said something terribly cryptic.”

“And that would be…?”

“’You know what I want.’”

“And…you don’t know what she wants although…you do?” Is it just me or does that not make sense? Yeah, I thought so.

“Exactly. So what does she want?”

“God, Brian, I haven’t been dating her for a year,” I hissed. “If she says you know, you should know!”

“But I don’t!” he said with a lovely man-squeak accentuating the last word.

“Just think, okay? You like thinking. Maybe what she wants is something special to both of—“

“Belgian chocolate!”

Let me tell you, that was quite unexpected.

“Er, what?”

“She wants Belgian chocolate. One time we talked about Belgian chocolate for three hours and then I made a simile about how life is like chocolate, and now we always compare our love to Belgian chocolate.” He looked so giddy and quite adorable.

“…Wow…”

“What?”

“Nothing.” And I thought I was weird. I mean, really. A three-hour-long conversation about chocolate? Luckily, at that point, the teacher decided to say something and I didn’t have to think about how strange Brian was.

I always thought if I were a character in a book, people would see me in their mind as a small, mousy girl with buckteeth and scraggly brown hair.

I don’t know why I think that; I just seem like that sort of person to myself.

You know what I mean? Those characters who aren’t described and yet are so easily seen? Well, that mousy girl is what I think people would see me as.

That isn’t how I look.

No, I’m tall with light red hair to my shoulder blades. I don’t have buckteeth. I have very white, straight teeth, courtesy of braces and having a dentist as my mother.

And I don’t have a lisp.

I think my character would have a lisp.

However, I am not a character in a book. Nobody is stupid enough to write about me.

My life would make a really boring story.