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I could never understand why Clark found me extremely weird for giving my diary a name.

"It's not weird, OK?" I told him for the umpteenth time while sighing. "I just think that something that holds most of my life's secrets should be given a special kind of acknowledgment, because, let's face it. I'm complicated."

I saw Clark stop munching his sandwich. He threw me an incredulous look. "It's just a book, Red."

A sigh escaped my mouth yet again as I knew where this conversation was headed. With my blatant stubbornness, I was prepared to argue with him, like I had done so countless times before when it came to this sensitive topic.

"It is not just a book. It's my—"

"Diary. Yes, I'm aware," he interrupted. "But seriously, Red? Couldn't you have given it a badass name. I don't know . . . maybe something akin to Sci-Fi. The name 'Purp Lee' is totally ridiculous." Clark made air quotes as he said my diary's name.

I felt my cheeks heat up but I wasn't going to let his comment falter me. "Well, I like the name. And it suits the diary. It's purple but I didn't want to subject my journal to the horror of a color name only, without some flair to it. Purp Lee has a nice ring to it, don't you think?" I looked towards Clark seated across from me.

He merely rolled his eyes and let out a small chuckle. "No it doesn't, weirdo."

I stuck out my tongue at him. "I don't care what you think, freak."

This began an onslaught of calling each other names, and it went on for the next few moments.

"Loser."

"Dweeb."

"Misfit."

I paused. "What's wrong with being a misfit?"

Clark shrugged as he reached for his apple and started tossing it around. "Don't know. I'm assuming its directed to those considered odd, I guess."

"Well," I pointed my fork at him. "We are odd." I attempted a chuckle but it came out all nervous as my eyes strayed to the A-List table. Then my thoughts went astray as I spotted him.

His chocolate dark skin, gleaming white teeth, and his hair. Oh, his hair was his most formidable feature. Curly and kinky. I've always dreamed of how it would feel like to run my hands through his exotic Afro.

And those lips. Pink and plump. My pillow had been subjected to practice smothers, imagining that those lips were in a long and deep French kiss with mine.

"Hey! Stop ogling like a retard."

"Huh?" My gaze traveled back to Clark. "Oh, sorry." I took the napkin and wiped the traces of food that had dribbled off my chin, mentally scolding myself for staring for so long that I almost lost all sense of reality.

Clark smiled at me before throwing his gaze over his shoulder towards the table I'd just been ogling at. "You should go ask him out."

I almost choked on my saliva. "Pfft-what? No way!" I hastily gulped my strawberry yoghurt, in the hopes that it would calm my racing heart.

I saw Clark arch his brow at me. "You scared he's going to reject you?"

I kept silent.

"Suit yourself. He's not taken so you might as well go in for the kill, tigress."

"Clark, look at me." I gestured to my whole body.

"What about you?" Clark arched his bushy eyebrows in a mocking manner.

"I'm so plain and he's so not. You think an unnoticeable freshman like me would get laid by Jac?" I pointed towards the table where my crush sat with his friends. I found myself ogling at his afro hairstyle once again. That hair. My fingers itched to at least touch it. I was so curious about how it felt.

"Yeah, well, you'll never know if you aren't brave enough to ask him," said Clark as he shot me his pathetic attempt of a teasing smirk.

"Oh, shut up!" I stabbed my fork into the rice till it hit the melamine plate, way harder than I intended. "He's probably eyeing Valerie's boobs and butt and blond hair and bullshit." I strayed my eyes towards the said culprit, and my attention on her made me vaguely aware of her tinkling laugh and sparkling advert teeth as she stroked her hand on Jac's muscled arm. For a moment, I imagined myself in Valerie's position. How she always seemed to be so glamorous, even when soaked in rain. How she always had the right comebacks. Her walk. Her posture. I envied her confidence, but I secretly admired her social status.

"D'you reckon I should change my body and hair so that he'll notice me?" I asked Clark jokingly and as I waited for his mocking reply, I realized he remained silent for too long.

He definitely did not reply with the same humor tone I was using, and my heart sank. Why was he looking at me as though he was pissed. I gazed at him and saw him wearing the most serious facial expression.

"What's wrong?"

Clark set aside his tray. "Seriously, Red? Why would you want to change your whole look for a mere guy? Aren't you the  one who said a guy should like you just the way you are?"

Clark's tone caught me off guard. It was only a joke. Like the usual jokes we always had.

"Yeah, I know, but—"

"No buts. This notion of having a particular body type so as to interest people, it sucks."

I stared at him for a long time. He started biting his lower lip and swiping the bridge  of his nose unknowingly, and from knowing my best friend's mannerisms, I knew that he was worked up after what he just said. He always got worked up when it came to things he deeply cared about or talking about serious and controversial issues.

But . . . me making a joke out of my body was just what it was. A joke. And he did not join me in making it, unlike usual, and that was peculiar.

I was about to ask if anything was bothering him when he spoke.

"It's either someone likes you for who you are and for what you have to offer or they don't. All or nothing." He said.

Clark gazed back at me and casually dug into his apple. "No more body shaming, hello?"

Ah, that explains it. He might have found a new tumblr page. He's always hoping from one fanatic domain to another.

My shoulders sagged with relief once I saw Clark's serious expression turn into a neutral one. Sometimes, he made me feel tense when he'd get so serious.

"And besides," he continued. "We're still freshmen. I bet that by sophomore year we'll have glowed up and the students in this hellhole will be lining up to have sex with us."

I couldn't help but laugh a bit. Clark had this theory about why the both of us had still not caught the eye of some wandering losers to date us. He called it "that stage which mother nature hides us from preying eyes in order to give us time to glow and mature properly." Clark even had a name for his theory—"the cocoon stage". I called it a shitty attempt to console himself but I didn't tell him that. He was too much optimistic.

"Yeah, well, this stage of being unnoticed better come to an end soon because I don't want to end up sleeping with you." I told him.

He feigned being hurt and put a mocking hand on his chest. "Ouch!"

"Not that I meant for it to come out that way," I added hastily. "I just don't want to seem as though no one in this school didn't get turned on by me by the end of four years that I have to end up sleeping with my best friend. I don't want to seem desperate or to see you like a last resort, Clark."

"But we made a pact," he said, digging into his apple and staring at it keenly.

"I know." My mood soured immediately thinking of the pact I made with Clark, which I was really starting to regret. We had promised each other that we would not graduate from high school as virgins. And if by senior year, it so happened that we still had not gotten laid, we would sleep with each other.

Pathetic pinky promises made under the influence of sugar rush. See my life.

As I strayed my eyes towards Jac and his clique of A-list mates, I began feeling more under confident in the hopes of getting banged by him. Not with Valerie Hawthorne buzzing around him.

"Hey," Clark pulled off his signature move of snapping his fingers in front of my face. "Even if you ask him out, which you probably won't by the way, and if he says no, I'm always here to lick chocolate icecream with you while you bawl out your eyes, am I right?"

I stare at my tray, turning my food and purposely avoiding Clark's gaze, because his words just warmed me up in the fuzziest way, and if I looked up, he would surely make fun of my reddening cheeks.

"Red, look at me."

His coaxing voice was irresistible, I have to admit. So I met his mocha eyes.

His eyes did not have a hint of mock in them, and I was glad for that. In fact, the golden ring that was in his pupils seemed to light up in an emotion I couldn't quite decipher.

"You know that, right?" He asked again, and it was the unspoken vow of the promise held in his eyes that made me trust him fully.

"I know."

Clark leaned back after my reply, and it seemed as though the moment was lost as he tossed the remaining apple chunk into the trash, but I was still in that precious moment that made me realise why I value my best friend.

"You know what I always say when it comes to tough decisions?" he suddenly stood up, taking his tray with him and tilting his head, urging me to follow as he gave me an encouraging smile.

I sighed, finally relenting and uttering his favorite motto. "The best friend option is always the better option."

"Atta girl," he smiled, dimples denting his cheeks and all. "Take it as a promise, ayyt?"

I chuckled a bit as I followed him closely behind. "OK. Promise it is."

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I'm soo egg-soy-tea-d for this story. Gaaaah!!!

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