I think in high school, girls fall into two categories: the "winners" and the "losers." I'm a loser, by the way. But we'll get to that in a minute.
Winners? They don't really care about their grades—80 is good enough, maybe even barely passing. But their social life? That's everything. They know everyone, meet up constantly, send reels in group chats, and live out every teenage dream. Sleepovers, Netflix marathons, maybe a call from their boyfriend—it's all just part of the package. In their world, grades matter at the last.
For losers, it's the opposite. No sleepovers, no group chats—no one even knows who you are unless you're quietly sitting in the back of class. The only thing that keeps me going is my grades.
They're the only thing I can control.
Anyway, let's begin.Â
I'm Teresa. Almost 17. And while everyone else is out living their best lives, I'm alone, cramming for my psychology exam. I can't even tell you how many hours I've spent staring at these notes, hoping my brain will just click. And don't even get me started on how unfair it is when people who cheat get better grades than me. I've got ADHD, so it takes me three times as long to grasp anything.
But no one cares about that. Not my parents, not my teachers, not the world. My parents? They still say I'm not doing enough. Honestly, though, I couldn't care less about their opinion. Unless I don't get any scholarships and end up stuck here with them, that would be my worst nightmare.
I only talk to one person. I'm not sure she'd even look at me the same way if she had other girls around. Or I wasn't walking genious.
Oh, and there's Leonardo.Â