The next morning, I went through the same routine until I found myself sitting in English class again. When Mrs. Kirk began her rant about things I couldn't have cared less about, I was going to put my earbuds in and tune her out, but I was distracted by a certain boy sitting a few desks down from me. It wasn't the first time I had noticed him, but it was the first time I noticed him staring at me. He was a scrawny kid with skin almost as pale as mine. I realized that he had been staring at me for a decent amount of time. When he saw me match his gaze with a perplexed expression, his face immediately turned towards his book. I rolled my eyes, thinking he was such a weirdo, then went back to my music.

I continued listening to music at throughout my two other morning classes until lunch rolled around. Towards the end of the break, I felt someone's eyes staring at me. I turned around and saw the boy from English class looking at me a few tables down where he was sitting alone. Again, when his eyes met mine, he looked down towards his sandwich, pretending it had never happened.

After lunch, I made my way through the rest of the day before I went to work for two hours, then drove home and immediately retreated to my room. After finishing my homework, I started working on a mash-up until it was time for dinner. Dad must have talked to Sheila, because when I got to the kitchen, I saw five plates on the table. Either completely uninterested or not wanting to deal with my snark, no one, even Dad, said a single word to me at dinner. I pushed food around on my plate throughout the meal, wishing he would take some interest in my passion instead of just taking interest in forcing me to do things I didn't want to do.

The rest of my evening was spent as usual: working on mash-ups and listening to music. For a split second while I was working, I wondered what it would be like to spend my free time somewhere other than my dark bedroom in front of a computer screen. I wondered what it would be like to actually have friends. I thought about how my stereotypical, child-of-a-nasty-divorce trust issues ruined my chances of making friends in elementary and middle school, and once you get past those years, the ship has sailed.

I shook my head, getting the thoughts out of my mind. I didn't need people. People were messy and high maintenance. I just needed my computer to have all the fun I wanted.

Most of the time, I had convinced myself of that.

But not at that moment.