Chapter 2:
Adolescence
NEVER IN MY LIFE had I studied for a test before. Not to blow my own horn, but it quickly became apparent that I was smarter—much smarter—than my peers at school. I never needed to go over my textbooks to keep up with my classes, and in elementary school, I got perfect scores on all my tests. Of course, in junior and high school, those same perfect scores were a little harder to come by, but I still never scored lower than a 90. As a result, in junior high, I developed a superiority complex and decided everyone else at my school was an idiot.
Naturally, I paid a steep price for my childish ignorance. Although I intended to conceal my condescension, it seeped from my every pore, and to be quite frank, it cost me every friendship I could’ve otherwise had. But I was fine with that—or at least, I tried to pretend I was—so I started choosing solitude of my own volition.
Unfortunately, I craved social interaction by nature, and as my time at junior high came to an end, I strongly regretted the way I’d spent it. While pretending to read a book between classes, I would eavesdrop on my classmates and hear them excitedly talking about throwing a graduation party and going to karaoke afterwards. Obviously, I wasn’t invited. Through my body language exuded an aura of “spare me your stupidity,” on the inside, I was painfully jealous.
Then graduation day rolled around. While everyone else was signing each other’s yearbooks, I just went home. And when I got there, I frowned down at my blank yearbook and made a promise to myself. I’ll make friends in high school!
The high school I enrolled at was the most competitive one in our entire prefecture. Suffice it to say, no one from my junior high class made it in with me. I was therefore starting over with a clean slate. On top of that, since everyone in my class would likely be just as smart as me, I could build genuine connections without looking down on them…right?
The entrance exam was held four days after I graduated from junior high. While I knew it would be a challenging test, I was sure I could get perfect marks in every subject as long as I studied hard beforehand. But…if I did get a perfect score, the other students would find me intimidating, and then I’d be ostracized again… Therefore, I decided not to study for the test whatsoever. I was confident I’d still pass. And sure enough, I did.
Then one day, a week before the entrance ceremony, the school called and asked me if I would speak at the ceremony as the class valedictorian. When I asked why, the answer was simple: despite not having studied, I had still scored the highest of all the applicants. They said I was free to decline, so…I said no. By announcing myself as the valedictorian, everyone would know I got the highest score on the test. I thought it might damage my chances of making friends. (At the time, I was still seriously convinced that it was my intelligence that drove people away from me.)
Having successfully declined the title, I walked into the entrance ceremony like any other student. The valedictorian speech was instead given by some girl with glasses, and later I would learn that the task had fallen to the second-highest scorer.
Little did I know, however, that declining the title of valedictorian would have a massive effect on my life. Sure, there were probably parallel worlds where I agreed to it, but every now and then, I still wondered… Were those versions of me any happier for it?