I always had this strange feeling, like I was the guy everyone wanted to be around. Why? I had no clue. But I went along with it, basking in a kind of popularity that didn't seem to have a reason.

"Good morning!" I called out, my voice bouncing off every building on the street.

"Good morning, Sam!" came back a chorus of voices. They knew me, noticed me. But why? It wasn't because of my family; my parents hadn't set foot in this country since I was three. And it wasn't because I was the best-looking guy around. I mean, I got eliminated in the first round of every "Mr. Handsome" contest held on the block. Still, the attention I got felt like some kind of cosmic compensation.

"Who does this guy think he is, entering *Mr. Handsome* with a bowleg?" I'd overhear whispers from those who weren't exactly my fans. But no, I didn't have a bowleg. Okay, maybe my walk was...unique, enough for my "friends who are girls" to tease me about it. Julie, for instance, once told me, "You walk like my grandma's cute, skinny goat." I never knew if that was a compliment or a mild roast, but hey, as long as
"cute" was in there, I figured I was safe.

That is until Julie started dating Charles. Not a "best-friend-who's-a-girl" kind of dating-no, *dating dating.* For the first time, it hit me. Her "cute skinny goat" comment was probably more an insult than a compliment. How did I miss it?

I realized then that maybe I'd felt a little too attached to my so-called "friends." But Charles swooping in and taking her felt like a punch to the gut. I didn't understand why; all I knew was that I was betrayed, with no one else to blame but my oblivious self.

Was it jealousy? Probably. Or maybe I just had to face it: some things and some people are never truly yours to keep.