Operation Love: How to Make Your Crush Smitten by You

Prologue: The Day I Became Ridiculous

Prologue

The Day I Became Ridiculous

I was not born dramatic.

At least, I do not think I was.

According to my mum, I came into the world very quietly, blinked at everyone like I was judging the hospital lighting, then sneezed on the midwife. According to my dad, I was a peaceful baby who only cried when I was hungry, sleepy, bored, cold, warm, ignored, overstimulated, under-stimulated, or personally offended by the shape of my socks.

So maybe I was born dramatic.

But I became truly ridiculous in Year 9.

That was when I first noticed Parker Hartley.

Before Parker, my life was simple. I had homework, friends, strict teachers, packed lunches, and a mum who believed every emotional crisis could be solved with food, prayer, or a lecture that started with, "When I was your age in the Philippines..."

I was thirteen, almost fourteen, which meant I was old enough to think I understood life and young enough to believe a good lip gloss could change my destiny.

It was the first week of Year 9 at St. Catherine's Academy. Everyone was pretending to be mature because we were no longer tiny Year 7s or awkward Year 8s. The boys had started spraying too much deodorant in the corridors. The girls had discovered mascara. Half the year had suddenly decided they were in their main character era, which mostly meant walking slower in the hallway and staring out of windows when it rained.

I was not in my main character era.

I was in my trying-not-to-trip-over-my-own-shoes era.

"Mia, hurry up," Grace Cooper said, marching ahead of me with her planner tucked under one arm like she was already preparing to run the country.

"I am hurrying."

"No, you're speed-walking emotionally. That's different."

"I don't even know what that means."

"It means your face looks panicked, but your legs are useless."

Behind us, Ella Brooks laughed so hard she nearly dropped her water bottle. Chloe Turner was checking her reflection in a dark classroom window, and Ruby Adams was eating crisps at eight in the morning because Ruby believed rules were suggestions and breakfast was a social construct.

We were on our way to form, and I was already stressed because my new shoes were rubbing my heel, my blazer felt too stiff, and my mum had insisted on taking first-day photos in front of the house.

Not one photo.

Seventeen.

In one of them, our neighbour's cat was in the background looking more confident than me.

"Year 9 is going to be different," Ella announced as we turned the corner. "I can feel it."

"You said that in Year 8," Grace said.

"Yes, and Year 8 was different."

"You cried during dodgeball because someone aimed at your hair."

"My hair had volume that day. It was a valid concern."

Ruby nodded seriously. "I support Ella's trauma."

Chloe glanced at me. "What about you, Mia? Any big plans for Year 9?"

"Survive Maths," I said.

"That's not a plan. That's a prayer."

"Then I will pray with passion."