Jack Watson was popular in ninth grade. Maybe people finally began noticing his good looks or maybe it was the fact that he was the most social creature, I have the misfortune of knowing

Poor me, in that aspect I was polar opposite of him. I dislike company of a bunch of people, I was more content  on either being alone or with Jack.

As the year progressed, I saw less of him, he was always surrounded by his "buddies" and barely managed to show up under the tree at lunch.

I was a bitter with it, so I started ignoring his calls and messages.

The day before our summer vacations, he found me in front of my locker.

"Hey Winter!" He said, approaching me.

I gave him a polite nod and a fleeting smile, "Sorry, need to run, I have a baby sister to pick."

He nodded, barely passing me a glance as his "so-called-buddies" yelled his name across the hall. He hurriedly left me alone, as if being seen with me would harm him physically.

Well, it's his loss.

Or that's what I tried to tell myself.

And just like that, we tore the last connection we had, passing each other in hallways or playground, without a second glance, like strangers. 

It was painful.