The Prettiest Girl in Our Class

Chapter 1: Prank Or What?

Everyone thought she was the prettiest girl in our class.

No one ever said it in quite those words, but I could tell. The boys became louder whenever she entered the room. The girls noticed what she wore and asked where she had bought it. Even teachers seemed more patient when she forgot an assignment or arrived a few minutes late.

I never joined in.

Around her, I acted as though she were no different from anyone else. I never complimented her hair when she changed it. I never offered to carry her books. When she answered a question in class, I kept my eyes fixed on my notebook as if her voice meant nothing to me.

It was safer that way.

The truth was that I noticed everything.

I noticed how she tapped the end of her pen against her lower lip when she was thinking. I knew she always chose a seat beside the window on the train. I knew she disliked standing too close to the doors and that she checked her reflection in the dark glass whenever she thought no one was looking.

And I was always looking.

During class, I watched her instead of taking notes. When the teacher turned toward the board, my eyes drifted across the room and settled on her face. After school, I sat several rows away from her on the train, close enough to see her but far enough that she would not think I had chosen the seat because of her.

Sometimes, our eyes met.