Chapter 1: Nerds are hot.
Before anything more is said, one thing needs to be made abundantly clear: nerds turn me on. The thick wire rimmed glasses usually kept together by tape, the knee high socks, the toothy grin, usually encased in braces. Hubba-hubba. And please, don't talk to me about argyle vests, or I might actually swoon. Any way I can have them, I'll take them. I like nerds immensely, and they like me too. The whole birds of a feather flock together sort of thing. It's also caused several problems involving me and well, let's call it nerd hunting, at such events like Comic Book International, Chess players Unite, Science Will Save Us, and other various conventions known to carry this distinguished breed. Subjects that, surprisingly, considering what a devoted nerd lover I am, hold very little interest for me. And there is my dilemma. Four hours, sometimes more, when one considers the effort and time required to educate an already supreme being, are the usual lengths of such conventions. And while nerd scoping occupies most of the time, the rest of the time is very well wasted in pretending to be avidly taking notes and being interested, when really, I'd much prefer an in depth book on the gory details of some very obscure hard to pronounce battle that took place centuries ago. But, a very sad truth has made itself known to me after visiting these countless conventions, that being, history is not a passion enjoyed overly much by nerds, but now I digress.
I was thinking all this while chewing on my pen and staring at Wally. His real name was Tristan or something like that, but with bitter disappointment I realized how very un-nerdy that was, and refused to use it. With a sigh I watched as he quickly and efficiently solved the word problem I had been working on for 20 minutes, then moved on to the other ten in rapid-fire sequence. Wow, it suddenly felt much warmer in the room. His glasses slipped from the bridge of his nose and he pushed them back up, on instinct, so absorbed in the equations. That was hot. My gaze was so avidly glued to his, I failed to notice the strange look Wally's best friend was giving me.
"Tristan, don't look now," he whispered. "but there's a girl staring at you." I suppose his idea of a whisper equated to the same voice used when one was yelling across a crowded room…or country.
Wally finished scribbling something down then looked at me with wide, terrified eyes. His friend jabbed him in the shoulder and pointed at me as if Wally hadn't already been looking my way.
I waved weakly and watched as Wally blushed crimson. I've found that's the usual reaction to my blatant sexuality. Or something like that. Wendy, my best friend tells me it's because nerds are so wrapped up in worms and junk that they are surprised when girls like me, who are not wrapped up in worms and junk, show any sort of interest, her words, not mine. Wally turned back to his paper with embarrassing speed, which was unusual. Generally, after a few timid smiles on my part, I'd have the nerd in question stammering and turned to mush. Hmm, would have to work on that.
The bell rang and I jumped up from my seat, a trifle too eager if the expression on Kim's face was any indication. "Hungry?" she asked bending down and picking up her pencil from the ground.
"For a nerd sandwich? Yes," I answered, looking longingly at the back of Wally's head. He seemed in rather a rush to leave, and I suppose my crazed smile might have had something to do with it.
"Ew." Kim tossed me a disgusted look and grabbed my arm. "I am going to pretend you did not say that. Let's go, or we won't get a seat in the cafeteria."
Kim pulled me along through the hallways, pushing past people and using her veritable Amazonian strength to barricade through the crowds. I meekly followed, apologizing profusely in her wake.
"There's Wendy. Let's go." Kim never asked, she commanded and any who knew what was good for them, listened.
We sat down and I pulled out the deli type sandwich my mother had made me for lunch, the fruit smoothie she had blended this morning and an apple, and no, I'm sorry to say, she did not go out and physically pick the apple herself, although I'm sure she considered it. I laid them on the table and sighed heavily, looking covertly at Kim and Wendy who were engrossed in their own non homemade lunches full of trans fat and cholesterol. I sighed again a little louder, waiting for a show of concern. None came. I tried once more.
Wendy looked at me amused, and with her mouth full of chips, asked me what was wrong.
"Wally rejected me."
"Who's Wally?" Wendy asked me.
"Tristan, the super genius from our calculus class," said Kim gulping down her Pepsi at a rate that
had me feeling a little indigestion.
"Wally is Tristan?" asked Wendy, taking another handful of chips.
"No," I said annoyed. "Tristan is Wally."
"Oh… I see." She didn't, but she also did not feel like prolonging the conversation, which was
understandable. My intellect has been compared to that of Einstein and Galileo and other such scientifical people, so it made sense that she had a hard time keeping up.
None of them seemed particularly sympathetic to my plight so I obviously had to be more aggressive. "You know, I'm so depressed I don't think I can even eat."
Kim suddenly brightened. "Then hand me your deli sandwich."
"Ughhh." I shot her a betrayed look and moved my sandwich closer to my body. "I said 'I thought I couldn't eat.' I wasn't really, very certain."
"If you say so." She took some of Wendy's chips and with oil-stained fingers, turned the pages of her fashion magazine.
"What are we doing today? The mall?" Wendy asked, giving Kim a dirty look and imitated my move by bringing her chips a little closer.
"Sounds good," said Kim, not glancing up.
"Sorry I can't," I said, trying not to sound guilty.
Wendy caught it and gave me a suspicious look. "Why?"
"I'm going to the science club meeting." I felt myself blush and took a monstrous sized bite of the sandwich.
"There are several things really wrong with that. One being that you hate science."
"What makes you say that?" I demanded, outraged, chunks of sandwich, lettuce, tomato and turkey spraying the table.
"You told me. You said 'Wendy, I hate science with the burning passion of a thousand suns.' Then you ate my lollipop. Which I'm still upset about, by the way."
"I was young and stupid and had not fully appreciated the value of the sciences," I answered hoping to sound smart and full of science lovin'.
"It was two days ago." Wendy rolled her eyes and took a glance at Kim's magazine. "OMG, I love that dress! Who's wearing it?" She grinned excitedly and pointed at the page to stress her point.
Kim shot her an amused look. "Mischa Barton. That no talent actress from the O.C."
"What?" cried Wendy, getting hysterical. "I LOVE Mischa Barton! You just don't recognize talent."
Kim snorted and flipped the page. "If you say so."
Wendy glared for a second before returning back to me. "Two, there is something more than a little desperate about you when you use your Friday night to go hunting for nerds."'
"I'm wounded. I am NOT using my Friday night to hunt for nerds, I'm using my Friday afternoon. The meeting ends at 4:00p.m."
"It's pathetic any way you slice it," said Kim in her no nonsense way. She turned another page.