People like to say, "I had a normal childhood." Well, let me tell you, I can't relate. Normal wasn't a word that fit anywhere in my life. I mean, I was small. Like, really small. The kind of small that made me think if a strong gust of wind came my way, I'd probably be flying off like a plastic bag in a storm.
And then there was my brain. Oh boy. While other kids were probably thinking about toys or candy, I'd be sitting alone, staring into the void, wondering about the GDP of our country. Or how much money I'd need to buy a plane ticket to visit Goku. Yes, that Goku. The Saiyan warrior. My childhood idol. I don't know what was weirder—thinking I'd actually meet him or thinking I'd afford a plane ticket.
I guess part of my strangeness came from the fact that I was...well, a bit of a loner. Not because I hated people or anything, but because my dad's job had us moving around so much, I barely had time to unpack, let alone make friends. And to be honest, I liked it that way. Being alone meant I had space—so much space, I used to joke I could fit an ocean in my little world without disturbing a single drop.
By the time we moved to yet another new city, it was just another routine for me. New city, new house, same old awkward me. But this time, something was different. Not that I knew it yet. My dad enrolled me in a new school nearby, and just like every other time, I braced myself for the usual routine of being "the new kid."
The first day started as any first day should—with chaos. My mom barged into my room yelling, "You're going to be late!" My first thought? Oh no, is there an earthquake? But nope, it was just her usual way of waking me up. Still half-asleep, I dragged myself out of bed, got ready in record time, and headed to the bus stop.
The school bus arrived, and I got on, sitting quietly while trying not to look like the nervous wreck I was inside. When we reached the school, my stomach was doing backflips. I mean, walking into a new school as "the new kid" is basically like walking into a jungle wearing a sign that says, "Fresh Meat."
Once inside, I asked a random student about my class and made my way there, feeling like a lost sheep. As I entered, the kids stared at me like I was an alien from another planet. Had they never seen a kid my size before? Or maybe that was just my paranoia talking. I found a seat somewhere in the middle and sat down, trying to disappear into the background.
The teacher came in, introductions were made, and the day went by in a blur. Honestly, it felt like I had some superpower to skip time because, before I knew it, the bell rang, and it was time to go home. My mom asked me how my first day went, and I gave her the standard "It was fine." Truthfully, it was as uneventful as I'd expected.
The next day, though? That was when everything changed.
I was sitting at my desk, minding my own business, when a group of girls walked into the classroom. Normally, I wouldn't have given it a second thought—my mom always said, "Never trust a man with money and never trust a woman with beauty." Wise words, right? So, naturally, I looked away.
But then, out of nowhere, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Turning around, I saw one of the girls standing there. She looked at me with a curious expression and asked, "Can you show me your fingers?"
And just like that, my perfectly predictable life was thrown into chaos.