Chapter Two;

Have you read a Kate Brian/Meg Cabot book where the ending involves a girl and a guy, and they're head over heels for each other? Almost all the guys in there are as sweet as honey, and it makes girls believe that if we, by chance, acted more like the girl in the books, we'd realize boys are creatures that can actually be nice.
But then you close the book and stuff it in a shelf, smiles to yourself, and opens the door for a jog. The sun rays are raining down on you, and it felt like a rainbow was going to appear anytime soon. An incredibly gorgeous self-imagined guy with a cute haircut, drool-worthy body, and a flashing smile, lingers in your thoughts, and you'll go, "Wow, I'm going to see boys like that from now on, because a revelation is coming around: Boys are nice beings!"
So you're jogging a little faster because you're fueled by that thought, and then you turned the corner, and Boom! The next thing you know, your butt is on the ground and you see stars above your head.
So you lift your head to see what the cause of your fall is, and you see a decent-looking guy, who'd pass as 'gorgeous' anytime, and you just instantly melt. That's when you start thinking all chic-lit books are good for the soul, and there's a cosmic force somewhere up there to arrange you and a beautiful guy to bump into each other and live happily after after you read books like that.
Pause.
You realize he's cooing, "Ohhhh, are you okay? Oh my gosh, I'm terribly sorry!" You offer your hand in case he's going to help you up, and gasp!, he's nearing you. You feel that body of yours pulsing, and beads of sweat are forming. Why isn't he helping me up yet?
Just then you see his eyes are over your shoulder and not looking at you, and you turn around to see what's catching his eyes, and there it is, laying lifeless on the cobalt road, a stupid toy -- a black GameBoy, its screen blank.
The guy walks past where you're still pathetically laying, and grabs his treasure gently, like a mother cradling her newborn, and you feel like gagging.
He touches it to check of any 'injuries', and when he's finished and his baby is considered okay, he realizes your existence.
You light up for a moment there, before he gives you a scowl, and with an unimaginable voice, booms out, "Watch where you're going." and continues playing with the GameBoy.
Sounds familiar? Well, of course, they're boys. Because if you're Gisele Bunchen or a drop-dead gorgeous actress like Denise Richards, the scene would be dramatically changed. The boy would look at his toy laying nearby the beautiful girl, and feel sympathetic for a moment before his eyes crawls over to the babe that's wiping herself, and his mind would click and shout at him, 'Babe Alert!', which is his cue to scurry to the girl, offer his hand, and bring her up. Then he'd probably think, I'll take you later, GameBoy, and bring her back to his house to check if she's suffered Alzheimer or something grave like that.
Well, I'll tell you what. I wasn't Gisele Bunchen or Denise Richards - not even close. The guy didn't even glance at me for one bit, except maybe for the stupid punch line Watch where you're going. Yeah, I had a zit.
So I guess that's when I thought, I'm doomed. Boys are boys, and whatever or whoever they like, it wasn't something I was, or am. That's when I started thinking too much when I meet a guy friend, like Was he looking at my zit? or Did he just say hi because my best friend is a clone of Megan Fox and is thinking how dumb she is to tag me along because clearly, she could outbeat me in anything, and I should be left alone, isolated, to ponder about why I'm not one of 'them'.

"Gwen!"
Immediately I was awoken from my daydreaming, and for a second, my brain adjusted to who was calling out my name. Carol, who was starting to stand up, looks intently at me.
"What?" I asked, standing up too when I saw everyone else in the bus was doing the same. I tightened the sweater around my waist as I wait for Carol, my best friend who looks like Megan Fox with a bod to die for and plump lips, to answer.
She shrugs, "Well, for starters, we're here."