Like everyone else needing their daily fix, I was an addict. The human brain was wired to work that way. It remembered anything essential and pleasurable, increasing the desire to do it again. Take another hit.

Eating sugar. Scrolling. Counting likes. Making out.

And mine?

Sniffing.

I inhaled, pressing my nose to the fore-edge of the book in my hands.

I was addicted to the smell—sweet vanilla, cotton, and glue. I couldn't completely describe it, but it was so familiar I could tell it was printed ink on paper with only one whiff. Like a drug causing chemical reactions in my brain and producing dopamine, it encouraged me to close my eyes, tune out the world, and escape into a short moment of paradise.

"Elsy, have you relapsed?" the girl beside me said, jolting me from a subconscious trip down euphoria lane.

"What?" I turned from my locker and observed Charlotte King. Her brunette hair framed her round face and cascaded over her slender shoulders—one of the prettiest girls in our year.

"You're sniffing books in the hallway again. I thought summer had already rehabbed that out of you." Charlotte placed her hands on her hips and squinted her hazel eyes at me.

She was wrong. If anything, summer had rekindled my passion for reading books. It made me even more addicted to their scent. I spent most of my break reading novels, taking advantage of the time before school started again.

"Haha, very funny, Lotty." I tucked the book into my bag.

Looking at her, my mind snapped to a certain thought as it always had, wondering why we were still besties. We had been inseparable since the middle grade. But at some point, I thought Lotty would find a new clique because that was how it happened in the movies. A friend growing prettier and more popular than the other would destroy the relationship.

But not for Lotty and me. We survived the first two years and were now starting as juniors.

A month had passed since classes began. Everything settled into the recognizable High School of Littleton, New Hampshire. Cell phone junky teens—screen lights glaring on their cheeks—walked through the locker-lined halls in their baggy pants or loose-fitting jeans, the stay-at-home comfy medium that emerged from the lockdowns of the pandemic.

"Hey, Lotty!" Someone called from the hallway.

Lotty and I turned our heads at the same time, where two boys, Finn Johnson and David Martin, walked toward us.

"You're coming to my party on Saturday, right?" Finn, wearing a brown Harrington jacket, stopped in front of us and stared at Lotty.

"Yep," she answered. "I just need to buy you a gift."

I caught her tucking her hair behind her ear. It was an unmistakable expression of flirting, one I learned from romantic novels and not in real life. I averted my gaze as if I witnessed something private—a scene I should not have seen.

"Make sure it's a good one," Finn said. A smile reached his dark green eyes.

"Bruh, do I have to buy you a gift?" Dave asked, raking his fingers through his shaggy blond hair.

"Of course you do. It's a worldwide tradition to give presents to the birthday boy." Finn gestured at himself and grinned, revealing a deep dimple on his right cheek.

I pressed my lips together, annoyed at how entitled he sounded, though they were close enough to kid around like that. And it was true. Giving gifts to someone on their birthday was a universal rule, especially if you were invited to their party. For that, I was glad he hadn't invited me.

"Uhm, I'm going to go, Lotty," I said, jerking my thumb over my shoulder. Feeling uneasy, I was a third wheel in this conversation.

"You can come too, Watson," Finn said to me.

He always called me by my last name, making me even more alien in the group. It was a last name that didn't fit my physical attributes—skin between white and brown, five flat, jet-black hair, wing-tipped almond eyes, and a not-so-sharp nose—the predominant genes my pure Filipina mother gave me.

"I mean, if you're not busy or anything," he added.

I thought about refusing. Parties made me feel suffocated and alone—too many people but no one to talk to.

"Great. Elsy doesn't have anything to do this weekend. My mom can drive us," Lotty said, turning to me, her eyes expecting me to say yes.

"Okay, I guess," I said, shrugging.

Finn nodded. "Alright. It'll be at my uncle's house in Pine Hill Park." He gazed at me for a moment. "And you don't have to bring a gift. Just be there, Watson."

Finn and Dave turned back to the hallway, merging with other students.

I watched the two well-known boys in our year as they went. Since their win in last year's championship game, everyone couldn't stop talking about them.

I couldn't believe I got invited to a party. I wasn't sure how to react about it—not so excited, eager maybe, or a little wishing I had said no.

"What am I going to give him?" I realized the situation turned into a problem. When Finn said I didn't have to bring a gift, he meant to get him a gift, right?

"Don't worry about that. He said not to." Lotty fixed her bag over her shoulder.

"I don't think that's what he meant." I closed my locker.

She chuckled as we walked down the hall to our first class. "You're reading too much into it. Finn's not like that. He doesn't care if you don't bring anything as long as you keep your word. If you say you're going to be there, just be there. That's all he's asking."

"You seem to really know him." I observed Finn as we passed him laughing with a group of friends. That dimple flashed at me. Something about it seemed genuine and made me want to smile too.

But I didn't.

He was that kind of guy, charismatic and infecting everyone he talked to.

I had known him since the middle grade and had gotten used to his charms. I was immune.

"He's a friend, Elsy," Lotty answered.

"I don't get why you're still not dating him. You talk to him a lot, especially after summer." I walked beside her.

"I talk to a lot of boys," she said.

"That's another thing I'm wondering about. There are so many boys hanging around you. How come you don't have a boyfriend yet? You can pick one out, like a shirt from your closet."

Lotty didn't answer and was quiet for a moment. The silence made me note the cold weather seeping into my thin purple sweater. September 30th marked the peak the of autumn season in New Hampshire. Everything around our town turned chilly.

"I don't need a boyfriend. I'm trying to get through high school without having one," she answered when we reached our class.

"Is that why you're keeping me around? To act as your boy repellant?" I asked, kidding. But something in that made sense. Lotty stayed friends with me after all this time. Sometimes I wondered why.

"You got me figured out, huh?" She laughed.

We both sat down in chairs set in the middle of the classroom. The bell rang, and Mrs. Moore, the social studies teacher, came in. She asked us to open up our textbooks on page fifty as she settled on her desk.

I pulled out my book, and as I flipped through the pages, the scent of paper came. I breathed in the joy, shoulders rising then relaxing.

"You are so weird," Lotty whispered, ducking her head behind the student in front of her as she gawked at me.

"Mind your own business." I smiled, whispering back.

Mrs. Moore started the class, and we quieted. No one else was allowed to talk except her.

I tried to focus on the lecture but couldn't stop thinking about Finn's party and what gift I needed to buy for him. Something sporty would be appropriate, but sports gear was expensive. And I wouldn't even know which one to pick for a soccer player.

I ripped out a clean page from my notebook and scribbled a message. I handed it to Lotty, reaching out and dropping it on her table.

We were passing notes instead of sending DMs because the last time a student got caught texting in class, they didn't get their phone back until the next day. I could only imagine how painful it would be to go through a night without having my phone in hand.

Lotty stopped writing in her notebook. She looked at the paper, glanced at me, and looked at it again before taking it and reading the message. Her eyebrow rose as if to say, what the heck?

I had written: How about a sweater with an 'I ♡ Sports' print on the front for Finn?

She turned to me, shaking her head and giving me an are-you-crazy look.

I passed another note to her. This time, I asked if high-knee socks would do. She giggled, getting herself a warning from Mrs. Moore.

"No snickering in my class," the teacher said.

The lecture continued without any more note-passing and giggling. But I still had no answer to my question. What was I going to get Finn for his birthday?

That was how teenagers' brains worked. We tended to be obsessive. And obsessing I did through the whole hour, writing down a dump of gift ideas in my notebook. I didn't pick up much of the lecture, but this type of distraction was effective in letting time fly by fast.

Five minutes before the bell rang, Mrs. Moore gave us our homework. "Write a paper about the history of Littleton. You will all read your work to the class by the last week of October. This will make twenty percent of your first quarter grades, so make it good."

When the bell rang and the teacher was out the door, the students in our class started whispering about ChatGPT. There was no longer any need to pay or bully any other student to do their homework for them. All everyone needed was the internet and artificial intelligence.

The school admin thought they could catch AI work with some free online tools. What they didn't know was the students were smart. Lazy but smart. A couple of tweaks here and there and bam! they had a seemingly human-made work overnight.

I was disappointed with what our generation had become.

I was traditional and believed physical books were still the best way to go for research. I got that attitude from my father, a fifty-nine-year-old American from the customary patriotic, cultured east coast.

Social studies wasn't my strong suit, so I needed to make extra effort. I planned to go to the public library after school to start working on my paper. ChatGPT or any other artificial intelligence app could be a great help, but I was not going that route. Not now. Not ever.

I texted my mother to expect me to be home late.

I always tried to practice my Filipino, even if it was only in text messages or a few words. Now and then, my mother would tell me never to forget my roots, so I tried not to.

I made sure the grammar was correct. Malate wasn't exactly Filipino. It was Taglish—Tagalog English. The combination of the words ma and late, which meant going to be late. And the whole thing, Malate ako ng uwi meant I will be home late. Then I hit send.

"Hey, I'll go ahead. See you in third period." Lotty tapped me on the shoulder.

"Okay." I glimpsed her as she walked out the door. I packed my things, closed the thick textbook, and got another whiff of ink on paper.

It was a habit I couldn't resist—breathing in the addictive scent.

Something about the smell of books made me smile. Or maybe it wasn't the aroma at all. It could be the history, the nostalgia linking to my best memories. After all, books had only ever given me positive recollections—how they comforted me during times of distress, how they provided knowledge in times of need, and how they simply entertained me, giving laughs and cries and emotional rollercoasters that made me want to read more.

I stood from my desk to leave the room when I bumped my shoulder into someone. "Sorry," I said, turning.

Finn gazed down at me and gave me a warm, dimpled smile. "Sorry," he said in return and walked ahead.

I took a deep breath. The lingering aroma of paper couldn't shove away the overwhelming sense he'd given me—a feeling that made my heart hammer against its cage. I wanted to tell myself to stop it because I was being ridiculous, but I wasn't immune to his charms like I thought I was.

As my eyes followed him walk out the door, the problem of the day arose in my mind.

What was I going to gift Finn?

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AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Awesome to have you here! Thanks so much for reading the first chapter of BNGFL. I hope you enjoyed it. I'm so excited for you to follow this new story.

Happy Reading!

Hi_D

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