When it happened, he was really kind. I didn't know why, I'd never spoken to him or smiled at him. It wasn't that I was higher than him, in fact he was higher than me, but he still tried to be nice. For some strange reason, he was speaking to me, not some other pretty, tall, sporty popular girl. Me. The geeky, bookworm, un-fit, still tall, gangling, and un-popular girl. He spoke to me! But then there was always the chance he had liked her. Not me, he was feeling sorry for me because he 'knew how I felt', she'd have a fit if she were here, if she was able to realise that he liked her. But she's not here, she's dead, and so are her mum and dad.