Not Your Normal Kid

I sat at my desk, trying to process what had just happened. My mind was a tangled mess of confusion, jealousy, and overthinking.

"What the heck just happened?" I whispered to myself.

Who was that kid? And more importantly, what was his relationship with her? Were they dating? Were they secretly engaged, like those overdramatic K-drama characters who have an arranged marriage and fall in love later? The possibilities made my brain hurt.

As I sat there spiraling into absurd scenarios, that same talkative kid waltzed back to his desk like nothing had happened. I wanted to ask him. Oh, I wanted to ask him so badly. But I couldn't. No, I had my limits. Asking would be like signing a document that screamed, "Hey, I'm way too interested in Eve!" And I wasn't about to let anyone think that.

So, I stayed quiet.

And then, as if the universe decided to spare me further awkwardness, the teacher walked in. Class started, and my thoughts reluctantly shifted back to the lessons.

But, as usual, time skipped. One moment I was in class, and the next—boom—I was lying in bed at home. Just like I told you before: I have superpowers. Time travel, mind reading—okay, fine, maybe not. But it sure felt like it.

Staring at the ceiling, I began to replay the day's events in my mind. It was like a detective sorting through clues at a crime scene. Piece by piece, I analyzed every bit of data I had collected. My focus shifted to him, the kid who couldn't stop talking. Who was he, really? Why was he sitting with her? What role did he play in her life?

That's when it hit me.

He was her male best friend.

It was something he had mentioned yesterday when I was completely ignoring him. At the time, I didn't think it mattered. But now? Now it felt like I had uncovered the Da Vinci Code.

"Male best friend," I muttered, sitting upright on my bed.

What does that even mean? Does it mean they have sleepovers? Do they gossip all night about...I don't know, makeup, boys, or...aliens? What do girls even talk about? I had no idea, and honestly, I didn't want to know.

But one thing became clear: I had to change my strategy.

If this guy was her best friend, then he was my key to learning more about her. It was simple. If I became friends with him, I'd have an indirect link to her. It was like a chain of information. I know him, he knows her, and eventually—if all goes well—she'll know me. Genius, right?

Of course, this wasn't going to be easy. I had no idea how to get close to a guy who talked more than a podcast host. But hey, desperate times call for desperate measures.

That night, I signed an invisible agreement with myself. My brain and heart came to a truce.

"We need to get close to that guy," I told myself. "Even if it means putting up with his endless chatter."

I didn't know what the plan was yet. I didn't know how I'd pull it off. But one thing was certain: I'd find out her secrets. And then—who knows—I might sell them to NASA, or a mob, or...okay, maybe not. But I was determined.

And somehow, in the middle of all this ridiculous plotting, I realized something. I was having fun.

For the first time in what felt like forever, life felt exciting. Chaotic, weird, and exhausting—but exciting.

With that thought, I finally fell asleep, dreaming of some ridiculous scenario where I was interrogating her best friend in a top-secret mission.

And maybe, just maybe, this wasn't going to be such a bad year after all.