I'm on TV. I get fan mail. You might say I'm famous. At least for my age.
But it's not like I talk about that. I try to be normal, like any other high school kid. I try to be nice to people. And not just the popular ones. Everybody. I treat everybody the same.
So why do people hate me? Kids, I mean. The kids at school. Why do they think I'm stuck up, that I think I'm better than them? I know they think that. I know because I hear it in the hallway; I read it on-line.
Even when I smile at people and try to be friendly, I read later on what a phony I am, how nobody's fooled. That I'm just doing it for my image. But I'm not. I want to make friends.
I don't want to be lonely, every single day at school.
Today thi reporter came and she set up in a classroom with her crew so they could do an interview. You know, the star at her high school, just plain folks. The kids were all excited, trying to get a look at her Because she's pretty well-known. I'd forgotten to bring a magazine, one with my picture on it, so before I went to make-up, I went to get it from my car.
Only when I got to the parking lot, I smelled something, something bad. Then I saw it was on my car: dog... poop, all over the windshield. And on the handles, and the wheels. With a big note stuck to it: “Because you think you're such hot....”
I went back inside and right to the make-up lady and didn't say a word. I just wanted to forget it. To keep my head in the game. Only once I sat down and the lights were on me and that reporter was sitting across from me with a big smile, aiming her microphone right at me, the first thing she said was, “So, here we are in your high school, where, a year ago, you were just one more student. They must be really proud of you, no? You must be really popular.” And all of sudden I broke down, just lost it completely. And then I ran off. Because I couldn't say, “No. No, the fact is they hate me here. Hate me for doing well. And it's great to be on the cover of a magazine. And it's great to be on TV. But I'm still just a kid, you know? And I just want what every other kid wants: to be liked, to have friends.”
“What does the rest of it matter if you can't have that?”

Copyright 2012 James B. Chevallier