He pushed me from my chest and I apologized for accidentally closing his locker, staring at the ground. A circle formed around us, the dreaded circle. My mind became hazy and I couldn't think clearly anymore. He pushed me again, obviously this kid was having a bad day and didn't give much thought to the fact that we were friends. But then... something within me began to boil, throwing away my years of being overly shy and fear of talking to strangers. Flashbacks from my tae kwon do lessons rushed through my head and before I knew it, I threw a hard fist to his head, disregarding any of the repercussions that would soon follow. He fell back, ironically into his own locker and again, in my frenzied state, I threw a few more punches and the fight was over. The crowd stood there in silence, in awe, which at that moment seemed like a good five minutes, trying to grasp onto what they had just seen. They were standing there staring at me, the skinny "brown" kid that had just beaten up the semi-popular "black" kid. It was my first step towards popularity and it began at that very moment in sixth grade.

After sitting through all of the principals' offices and forcing my nervous little hands to write down what transpired onto a small, grainy sheet of yellow paper, I had finally gone home... suspended for the very first time. It was my very first fight and I didn't exactly expect a pat on the back from my father. As I entered the passcode for our garage doors and slowly opened the laundry room door, my mother was there waiting in desperation to see if her only son was alright. I told her I was okay, and then slowly proceeded to my father's office. I walked to the double-door entry of his office in the foyer, which at that point seemed as tall as Mount Everest, and opened them slowly staring down at the ground. My father was sitting in his seat smoking his pipe, staring out through the window on his cushioned seat, slightly reclined. I sat down quietly and waited for him to say something. A good three minutes had gone by and I was ready to combust from the heat under the skin of my face. He finally turned around slowly and asked... "So did you win?". I stared at him in utter disbelief and shock, and I wanted to smile and tell him all about how popular I became but I didn't want to push my luck, so I replied with a monotoned "Yeah dad...". He then proceeded to ask me if I was okay and why it happened, but then... he gave me a short speech that I'd never forget: "Beta, I want you to understand something. If someone ever hits you, I want you to beat the hell out of them, but only if they hit you first. If you lose, or if you hit them first then I'll beat the hell out of you." I walked out of his office room shortly after with a big grin on my face, giving what he said a lot of thought. I realized that my next two days of suspension were going to be a short vacation.

Upon my arrival back to school, as shallow as kids were, I had not cared. I had finally been noticed by at least half of the "Science & Tech" wing in Sampson G. Smith intermediate school, an incredibly large accomplishment for someone of my small stature in school. I was overly enthralled. People began to test my courage I showed over the locker incident. I got into more and more fights, soon developing a taste for them and not realizing it was actually the attention and praise of everyone in school that I was truly yearning for. But why did I feel like that? My family had given me all the attention I needed, and more. Maybe in doing so, I relied too much on them rather than on friends and thus, fell behind in my social skills.

Seventh grade had swept in soon. Half of the school at this point knew of me, the little Indian-boy-with-guts. However, I still lacked the ability to face... a girl, even if it meant having to choose that or skinning myself alive. Yet again, I encountered even more fights and grinned childishly and victoriously after each one, even through all the suspensions that came along with them. I assumed that people had finished testing me and let me be. Come eighth grade, I had stopped getting picked on. I had finally established some sort of an image, in which I was not sure what it was exactly but I was happy to know that people had learned to leave me alone because I had finally learned to stand up for myself. I lost my fear of everyone... minus the girls of course...

For the first time ever, I chose my own haircut. To my, and my sisters', utter disbelief, the Casear-style actually suit me well; I just needed to learn that purple turtlenecks didn't fare very well with maroon cordurois. Upon my excited return to school to show off my new hair-due, the hottest girl in school didn't simply notice me, she complimented me with "Hey cutie" and a sweet smile to follow up with in the hallway between classes. My mind became fuzzy and confused, my face turned red and heated up, I was excited... but I still lacked the ability to take my eyes off the ground to look at her. I could not react. I kept on walking, staring at the ground, acting as if I never heard her. I hated myself dearly.

Eighth grade had come to an end, and so did my intermediate school experience. Over the following Summer, I had finally gone through what every boy was afraid to admit they yearned for: the "voice change", the most un-awkward phase of puberty for a guy. It was what would make or break him in the future in a woman's eyes... at least I thought so. I felt as if I had finally entered the stage of adulthood and left my years of shyness, geekiness, negativity and low self-esteem behind. I soon realized that I enjoyed talking to people more and more, after all the "oh my you're voice is so deep" compliments.

Fortunately, I never got picked on as a freshman in highschool. My sister was a junior and she also happened to be one of the most popular people in school. Since we were always close, unlike the average brother and sister, she let everyone know who I was and made sure that the freshman beatdowns never made their way towards me. Randomly, the hottest girls in school would walk up to me, pinching my cheeks and patting my head with the dreaded "Aww you're so cute! I can't believe you're Ayesha's baby brother!" remarks. I wasn't a damn baby and I wished that everyone would stop referring to me as one. Oddly, I hadn't minded being under the shadow of my sister's popularity too much since it only brought me more opportunities to show off my deep voice. It was in a dark room that I was asked to help one of my senior classmates in my photography class... which just so happened to be a girl. I walked in through the sliding tube door. I started showing her the proper procedure of how to properly develop a photo, in which I only accomplished because it was completely dark. She only heard my voice and assumed that I was some hot Caucasion guy, I'm sure of it. She got a little cozy with me and stepped closer to the point where our arms were touching, but I backed off a step and she took the wrong hint... if only she knew that I was just shy. After we both stepped out, she looked at me awkwardly as if she had made the biggest mistake of her life. I couldn't face her, so I asked to go to the bathroom immediately and stayed there for the remainder of the period. Random guys, the big tough guys, would come talk to me and pretend we were bestfriends. Each and every time, I knew that all they wanted was to get closer to my sister, to make the move on my sister easier. Little did they know that I was not clueless or that I had no say in what she did.

Tenth grade came as quickly as eighth grade ended. I was not the same kid that I was back in junior high school. I became much more talkative, more confident, gained a higher self-esteem, and most importantly, a level of respect. I was still quite reserved but it was still nonetheless a drastic improvement over my previous years. I was barely under the shadow of my sister's popularity as I had begun to establish my own image throughout the school, separate from her's. I grew a mustache, an awkward one, and my hair was long, which I decided to part from the middle. I wore big eye glasses dropping halfway down my cheeks, I had no sense of fashion or style... that of which that everyone else had already had. I was too absorbed into my computer games and LAN parties, where I'd have my friends bring over their entire PCs to my basement and we'd network them to play video games for an entire weekend. Clearly, I was more immature than most guys my age at the time but in ways, how I viewed society far surpassed even a female's mentality, I was blessed with an open mind and a clean heart.

Tenth grade ended and 11th grade had begun. I was all on my own. No more big, popular sister to look after me. At that point, I had already known almost half of the school's population as either acquaintances or friends. Half way through the year I had finally bloomed, in a more masculine way at least. I shaved off my mustache and my sideburns and finally decided to try out that old Caesar cut I got back in seventh grade. I ended up doing the oh-so common flip from the front. I thought I was never going to get a girl to notice me, it was simply a dream. Any girl, just any, to simply tell me she thought I was cute seemed like an eternity away for as long as I could remember. But my time seemed like it had come to an end. I soon found myself going to school with a large Desi (south Asian) community although I thought they were weird. I stayed away from them because they smelled like curry. They were all... well, Indian, all of them, even the ones from Pakistan. Several attempts by members of "their" community attempted to make small talk with me but I had pity for them and paid no heed. I thought they were disgusting, smelly, and I hated the fact that they all tried so hard to fit into society, my society. I felt different from them, probably since I had encountered a more American childhood than them and so I felt as if I was better, just because I didn't have to try to fit in. I had grown up in a vastly dominantly Caucasian society and so my views of Desis were very similar as their's.

Finally... senior year had come. The single most oustanding year in my life and easily the most drastic changes in my personality and social life were established here. I began talking to a freshly shipped Desi named Manoj. I had learned to accept people for what they were individually, not from where they came from or how they smelled, a major factor leading to my success in my social life. He was a completely down-to-earth guy, he was honest, we had alot of similiarities (except our accents and smell) and we lived nearby. I found talking to him incredibly easy and exciting. We became closer and closer and respected each other plenty. During the second marking period of the year, I was assigned a Health class. I had chosen a seat on the side of the room. Two girls had entered the room and chose to sit directly behind me, I paid no attention to them. I realized they were Desi before I even turned around to hand them the course syllabii, but not because they had an accent (they didn't), but it was simply something in the way all Desis speak that seemed familiar... I still can't point it out to this very day. As I turned around to hand a syllabus to one of the two girls behind me, I realized it was Binita, whom surprisingly I knew by name. I had seen her on rare occasions throughout school but had never make talk with her. I said "Hi" and she smiled back and replied, "Hey". They giggled alot together that class, but I never paid them any attention.

A month and a half or two later, one of my Philipino friends, Eddy, dragged me along with him to an after-school event called "Asian Awareness". I was going to hang out with him after school so I followed him to the classroom and I chose to stay outside until he finished. His five minutes he promised me turned into ten, and so I dared to open the door and stepped in. I had never seen so many Desis together (excluding family get-togethers and melas, or Desi festivals) in my life. They all stood there for a few seconds staring at me... the brown guy that never hung out with the other brown people. A few people walked up to me and introduced themselves. Eddy introduced me to a few more people. I began small talk with some of them and received alot of smiles from the girls sitting on the side of the room, giggling within their own cliques, pointing at me in their heads. I returned to Health class later that week and Binita introduced me to her friend sitting next to her, Nira. They mentioned they saw me after school in that Asian Awareness meeting the previous week and we began to chit-chat. Small talk began turning into serious conversations. The marking period had finished and I finally had another marking period of gym, I was excited. "Coincidentally", Nira and Binita ended up in the same class as me. We spoke more and more and eventually became good friends. I had mixed some rave and trance music of my own at home and burned it onto a CD, and when I showed it to Nira and a few other classmates, they liked it. But most surprisingly, I was shocked that Nira, an Indian, a Desi, didn't just like rave but she actually knew how to rave. I stood there in awe, watching her showoff her "invisible dragonball hold technique"... whatever it was called. Not long after, she invited me to hang out with her and some of her friends. I agreed, it was a big step for me but I had agreed and I wasn't regretting it, however I was nervous. I wasn't sure of the reactions I'd get from everyone since I already knew they would all be Desi as well. But it just so happened that Manoj was there too, and Binita obviously, and alot of other Desis that I had some classes with. It was a vast group but everyone made it feel small. I had a warm welcome and I finally felt like I perfectly fit into a crowd for the first time in my life. At that point, I was officially sucked in. The rate at which I knew people drastically increased and in no time, I knew almost every single Desi in all of Franklin Park. Soon, I cut class for the first time. These Desis were incredibly fun people to hang around and they sure knew how to have fun and live life to the fullest, I always felt like I was the center of attention... even if I wasn't. Then one night, over a movie with my new friends, I sat next to Nira. I began to pay less and less attention to the movie and remembered a few nights ago where Manoj made me swear that I would never tell anyone that Nira poured her heart out to him, and admitted that she liked me. He was my friend and so he told me. I slowly threw my arm around Nira, my first attempt to ever ask a girl out, and politely whispered into her ear, "Do you wanna' go out?" She seemed confused, or maybe shocked, and asked "... Where to?" I wondered why she asked that, and I just looked at her confused, thinking how to reply to an answer like that. I guess she got the point, and followed up with, "I'm not sure... I really have to think about it. I'm sorry...". A few days later, myself having no concept of mindgames and the psychology of relationships, she told me she thought about it and it was a "Yes". My heart raced with joy, adrenaline rushed through my body, it felt ethereal. I was 17-year's old and I had finally had a girlfriend, the biggest learning experience of my life.

Only a few weeks later, Senior Cut Day arrived. A few friends and I made plans to head down to the beach for the day and it was a complete success. We had about four to five cars, all fat-packed with my friends. It was a beautiful day: clear sky, sunny, hot, and little wind with very minimal humidity. We all met up near Nira's house at around seven in the morning. Since another guy and I had the deepest voices, we called up the school in hard Indian accents pretending to be parents, claiming that our children were going to be out of school from being sick. Surprisingly, the clever high school staff bought it. There were about 30 of us, and we made several stops on our way to the beach, goofing off and joking around at every single one. It took us roughly two hours to get there. I savored every moment I spent with Nira and my friends, and with her by my side everything in life seemed entirely differently. I began to care less and less about alot of things I shouldn't have cared about from the beginning, and I was never happier. I cut school alot and made the best of life and savored every second while staying within academic boundaries. I was living a dream and I had never expected to enjoy myself to that extent, an experience I truly wish that words could describe.

Senior year neared its end and it followed up with alot of tears from everyone. From incredibly sensational and touching graduation songs to emotional speeches from the student body to our last few senior trips and events, it was a big pounding on all of us, remembering our fashion shows, our cut days, our trips to Six Flags Great Adventure, the beaches, the movies, the parks, the beautiful Summer days, all the parties... but it hit us all very late. We all realized that soon, we'd be leading our own lives finally. But the hardest part to accept was... the people we grew up with and spent five days a week with for countless years would finally be leaving. This is what it meant to graduate, to grow up, to move on, but mostly, to gain independence. They were truly memories that cannot be hindered in words, for no language can contain the passion that my heart had felt.

And soon, it had finally ended... I had achieved a success far beyond what I had ever imagined I would be capable of. I knew practically everyone in central Jersey and I was well respected. However college was near... and it was incredibly intimidating, laying just two and a half months away, an entirely new and painful experience which would eventually lead me into my true adulthood...