Not Your Normal Kid

Days passed, like every other day. Same routine. Nothing dramatic, no plot twists. Eve continued her rounds, not to check on me specifically—oh no, I wasn't that special. It was her "sacred duty" as the so-called hygiene monitor. We didn't talk much. Occasionally, we exchanged some casual words, the kind you have with someone you barely know, like, "Did you finish your homework?" or "Do you know the capital of Bhutan?" You know, thrilling conversations like that.

And then, exams came.

Now, let me clear something up—I may have looked like a nerd, but trust me, I wasn't one. I had glasses, I stayed quiet, and I avoided people, which automatically gave me "nerd vibes," but the truth? I didn't care about studies. At all. I considered myself more of a mutant. Yeah, you heard that right—a mutant. Advanced, evolved, too cool for textbooks. Nerds were just the early versions of me, the bootleg versions, if you will.

Anyway, we gave our exams, and I thought nothing of it. Exams were like chores—you just did them because you had to. But then came the results.

And oh boy, the results.

I don't know what I expected, but I definitely didn't expect her to score 2nd place in the class. Yeah, Eve. The so-called hygiene monitor. Miss "Check your nails." She scored second!

I was stunned. Like, hold up—beautiful girls weren't supposed to be smart, right? That's what the movies taught us! But here she was, shattering stereotypes like a hammer to glass. I sat there in disbelief, pinching myself. "This is a dream," I whispered. "Wake up, man. Wake up." But no, it was real. And you know who couldn't shut up about it? Yeah, that kid. The one who sat next to me, the human version of a broken record player.

He started going on about how she always scored 2nd in every grade. Every grade. I mean, who does that? Who has the energy to ace school and manage side jobs like checking kids' hair and nails? I didn't want to listen, but for once, I was actually curious. How did she do it? Was she a spy? An undercover agent sent to gather intel on me? (Okay, maybe not, but my mutant brain loved wild theories.)

I knew I had to congratulate her. I mean, how could I not? But finding the right moment was harder than surviving a zombie apocalypse.

Finally, I decided to approach her during break time. Break time was perfect—less pressure, more freedom. Or so I thought. As I walked toward her, I noticed a small crowd gathered around her. She wasn't just sitting there. No, she was surrounded by people, like some kind of medieval princess holding court.

I waited. And waited. Slowly, the crowd started thinning. I thought, "Alright, this is my chance."

But just as I was about to step forward, I saw a random kid sitting next to her, laughing with her. Laughing. I stopped in my tracks. Who the hell was this guy? He wasn't just talking to her; he was comfortable. Like, too comfortable.

Then, he turned and saw me.

He started waving.

At me.

"Yo, new kid!" he shouted. "Come here!"

New kid?!

I froze. Excuse me? I had been here a whole year. A WHOLE YEAR! And I was still the "new kid"? What did I have to do to get rid of this cursed tag? Graduate? Move to another planet?

I sighed and walked over, trying to look casual but failing miserably. As I got closer, the random kid started talking to me like we'd been best friends since birth. "Hey, new kid! Meet Eve. She's amazing, right?"

Yeah, thanks for pointing out the obvious, dude.

But then, as he kept talking, I realized something. I knew this guy. Well, sort of. Turns out, this wasn't just any random kid. This was the loudmouth kid—the one who sat next to me, the one who couldn't stop talking, the one I'd been ignoring all year.

Yup. He was the same guy.

"Wait... you're the guy who sits next to me?" I blurted out.

He grinned, completely unfazed. "Yeah, man! We're practically brothers now, huh?"

Brothers? Brothers?! I didn't even know his name!

Eve just sat there, watching this bizarre interaction unfold, probably wondering how someone like me even survived this long. I wanted to crawl into a hole, but instead, I did the only thing I could: I congratulated her. "Uh, congrats on getting 2nd place," I mumbled, trying not to look directly at her.

She smiled, a simple "Thank you" that somehow felt like a victory lap.

And that was it. The most awkward, nerve-wracking, and utterly ridiculous conversation of my life.

As I walked back to my seat, I realized something. Eve wasn't just smart. She wasn't just pretty.

She was... different.

And I? I was still the "new kid."