I think I’m the first student to vomit in the teacher’s bathroom. I think I’m the first student to brag about being so hungover he vomits between sections of the SAT. I think I’m the first nerd to get hammered beyond belief at a friend’s party. I think I’m the first idiot to decide taking the SATs the morning after his first big party was not a shitty idea. I think I’m the first college applicant to worry so much about his SAT scores that he considered taking the test three times. I think I’m the first pathetic loser to lock in his decision to take the SATs a third time because the straight boy he has a crush on is taking it then, too. I think I’m the first petty bitch to bring rum to the party and drink it all just because he bought it for that straight boy’s older brother. I think I’m the first future scientist to mix rum and weed and vodka and Mike’s Hard Lemonade and hope it turns his body golden. I think I’m the first soft boy to think if he keeps going to the gym every other day he can train himself to be a gymrat. I think I’m the first sucker to believe the boy he has a crush on when he calls him his friend. I think I’m the first fat guy to think that the only reason he’s single is because he’s fat. I think I’m the first overachiever to secretly gloat over scoring higher on the SATs than his crush. I think I’m the first Guitar Hero, specifically “No One Knows.” I think I’m the first boy to convince himself that his yearning was more unique than just desire loitering in the gut. I think I’m the first closeted homosexual to wonder why his texts mean so much to me. I think I’m the first depressed teen to have the cops called on him for a goodbye note confused for the other kind of goodbye note. I think I’m the first patient to ever ride in an ambulance with his chemistry teacher’s daughter as the EMT the night before her senior prom. I think I’m the first NHS vice-president to be accused of planning violence. I think I’m the first high school senior to know that everything will be different once he leaves his small town. I think I’m the first ouroboros of desire to chew his own tail and convince himself he’s hungry. I think I’m the first protagonist of a young-adult romance to not end up with the boy at graduation. I think I’m the hero of that one Edith Wharton novel, deciding to keep looking up at the window, knowing that the only life possible is the one he’s already lived.