• He was a prince, of sorts. Everyone admired him, boys wanted to be like him, girls wanted to be with him. He didn’t live in a castle though, and he certainly didn’t act like a prince all the time. Most of the time, especially when he was around other nobility, he was royal, a royal jerk. His kingdom was one of giants. But some giants were smaller than others, and none of them were truly giants the way you and I usually think of them. The larger giants were athletic, so of course, they played sports. They sat on top of their piles of bones, gossiping and pretending to hate each other. Occasionally one would fall, but they would always claw their way back up, no matter whom they pulled down in the process.
    I’m not a giant. Actually I am, technically, but I will drop the metaphors and make this less confusing. Yes, I am a giant. A Giant City Giant. That is the “kingdom.” I will not, however, give out names. I don’t want the wrong, or right, person reading it. Although if you go to my school you can most likely figure out who is who and what is where. But like I said, I’ll drop the allegory writing and just write about humans now, okay? But no promises, I do like allegories. Also be warned that most of this is true, but the end will be hopeful thinking.
    Like I said, I am not what you would call “popular.” I understand popularity. I understand you have to fight to get there sometimes, and once you reach the peak, you have to fight to stay there. In these years of my life, I’m not willing to risk my sanity for a little popularity. I have my friends.
    A word about my friends. I may not be popular, but I do fit in to many groups. The dancers, because of theater. One of my best friends is one of the most popular girls in school. But the thing about her is she doesn’t realize that she is popular. She just stays herself and people love her for it. Girls and boys.
    Three of them are cheerleaders. They are not typical cheerleaders though. None of Giant City’s cheerleaders are, with only a couple exceptions. Most of them are just people that anyone can relate to, which means their personality pushes them up the ladder. The ones that act like cheerleaders are the ones with their heads shoved in the clouds, so far up the sun burns their eyes out of their sockets, but they are so set on their goal, they don’t notice. Not my cheerleaders though. They get along with everyone, but they aren’t ‘in’ people. They are where they are and are fine with it. They are simply people like me that love to cheer, so they are a bit higher social standing than me.
    Then there are my friends that are the same level or lower than me. One has ADHD, and no one really gets her. And she doesn’t really get people either. But no matter, I am pretty much happily stuck with her for all eternity.
    And me? I am hard to explain. I usually get along with people. But I never use it to my advantage. I never try to “climb the social ladder.” I do try to get along, but nobody is perfect, therefore no one gets along perfectly.
    As far as boys, besides my dancing friend, no one in our group really tried for boys. We didn’t really flirt at all, and besides the occasional, brief, infatuation with someone, none of us had never really been in love. We had all thought we had been, but it always turned out to be nothing. At this point I really had given up on a crush actually being true. They had all felt the same, beginning, middle, and end. Until the “Prince” came along. He hadn’t been here since kindergarten, but he wasn’t new either. We did have a new boy, and a lot of girls liked him. A lot still do. But he just wasn’t for me.
    In any case, my prince wasn’t my type either. Like I said, he was a jerk. He would simply bounce of other people’s social blunders to launch him even higher up the pecking order, even when he was at the top. The school made a mistake by putting him and his wingman in the same class. It was amusing to all of us common folk, and even some of the other nobility too. But he was never for me. At least, that’s what I thought.
    Now let me explain this strange quirk I have. You’ve heard of Heracles, yes? If not, you have probably heard of Hercules. Same person, different eras. Now, he was a hero. He had to help people, and when Hera’s action caused a chain reaction and he was stuck with a crazy king with one wish to kill him, he had to do what the king said. My quick is not Ella of Frell’s. I do not have to do what people tell me, but I am compassionate. If I see someone in pain, I am almost forced to help them. Whether it is emotional pain and me talking them through it, or physical pain that I wished I could heal with an herbal first aid kit that materialized next to me as soon as I needed it. The point is that no matter what my former feelings about that person, if their pain wasn’t my doing, I am forced to fix it. Just keep that in mind.