“There she comes,” students whisper. As I enter people gasp, a couple of students faint, but I’m not surprised. I’m used to these sort of reactions to my appearance. Time slows down as I walk to my seat with all eyes on me. Girls admire my grace, boys marvel at my beauty. Sigh. It could have been so beautiful.

“We had a conversation about carpets last week. I’m Oliver, by the way,” Oliver says. As if I don’t know who he is ánd need to be reminded of the extreme stupidity I had displayed. “Hi. I’m Chloe. You remember?” “Well, it’s not everyday a girl tells me she thinks she might be a carpet. I think you should be the flying variant,” he grins. “Why? Because it’s much funnier if I bump into things in the air?”

“I like you, Oliver. I really like you. Not only do I think you’re nice and funny, but when I’m near you I wonder what it would be like to kiss you. I’m in love with you. You’re Chloe’s crush,” I stammered.

What freaked me out right then was that I had been talking about myself in the third person. Apart from confessing I was in love with him and wanted to kiss him, of course. But Oliver was…blank.

“Hi Oliver. So, how are things going with Sweety, Candy, Mindy, Dusty, Wendy?”

“Mandy,” Oliver says and he looks at me sideways.

“Oh,” I say, as insincere as I’ve ever been. I know the damn name of the damn girl.

“Don’t pretend you’ve forgotten her name. That’s so passive-aggressive,” he protests, sounding tired.