Disconnected *ENG*

The day I'm not going to exercise

I'm glad her parents decided to move here. Jennifer, with her puppy disposition, didn't belong in the most depressing city in America. Although she doesn't fit as my friend either, she seems not to care about that at all.

I'm not saying that Berkeley City is any better, of course. In a city where if you sneeze at one end, someone from the other says "bless you," you can't be anonymous. I felt that quite painfully. Everyone knew about what had happened in the Parkers' house within half an hour of the incident. Our family was the talk of the town for a good six months. You know how it is—what parents say at home gets repeated by their children at school. That's why my world, although it suddenly collapsed, also became a nightmare. And I don't know what would have happened to me if it hadn't been for Jen. Jen, who brought pink hair dye to school one day because she thought I'd look nice with a new hairstyle and that with a new hair color, I'd definitely be able to face adversity.

Jen, who defends me from being pushed, pointed at, and having trays of food thrown at me. Jen, who wipes my tears in the third-floor bathroom, where no one goes because of the perpetually clogged plumbing. Jen, who always remembers my birthday. Jen, who is the only one who likes my posts on Instagram. Jen, who shares my admiration for Ben Barnes. Jen, who is the friend I couldn't even dream of—she's the best.

"Registration for the drama club for next year is underway. Wouldn't you like to sign up?"

I look at Jen in disbelief.

"It's enough for me that I play a tree every day. I also play the walls in the corridors, and sometimes even the floor. No thanks."

"I think I'll sign up," she says.

"I'll be at every show you're in. I can also send you flowers to the backstage."

Jennifer gives me a forced smile.

"My mother pressures me and claims that I don't have any hobbies, so she has nothing to brag about to her sisters. She wanted to sign me up for dance, so this theater thing saves me a bit. Too bad you don't want to, it would be cool."

"I don't think so. My dad, on the other hand, would be disappointed that he doesn't have time to come and watch me on stage."

"Sadie, if you change your mind, are you aware that you could be the next Sarah Parker, ACTRESS?"

"Stop, I'm counting to three," I warn Jen loyally.

"Just like..."

"ONE."

"... Sarah..."

I roll my eyes.

"TWO."

"... Jessica..."

"Don't you even dare."

"... Parker!"

"THREE. I warned you. Give me your chicken."

With a quick movement, I scoop out the breaded strips from Jen's tray, which she hasn't even touched yet. Someone should have taken care of what we're served in schools a long time ago, but as long as no one has decided that Coca-Cola and French fries are an inappropriate diet for the young, enlightened minds of America, I will not limit myself.

Jen's eyes suddenly widen.

"Sadie, ten o'clock!" she whispers. There is no trace of her playful tone.

We both lower our heads at the same time and stare at our trays. He can't see me. I wish he would one day discover that I exist, but every time he's near, I feel worse than bad, and it never seems like the right time.

Kyle Chew walks past our table without even giving us a passing glance. Only then do I look up to admire the perfect back of his head for a moment. Or the other parts of his body, which are certainly more appetizing than this chicken.