“Brian Knobbs, how many times am I going to have to tell you to stop reading in class?” I flinched at my teacher’s words, being taken by surprise despite this being the fifth time this week. I couldn’t help it. My father had finally caved and bought me the cryptozoology book I had been begging weeks for. Currently reading on the Jersey Devil, I ignored my teacher’s words and continued with my own personal studies. I’ve never met a single person that needed calculus in any way other than schoolwork. What good would paying attention in class do me? “That’s it, Brian. Detention.” More time to read, I guess. Okay, maybe I didn’t say that. In full honesty, I didn’t actually say anything. I have a system. The less I talk, the less fuel these pricks can use to make my life worse. Home sucks. School sucks. Torment I can avoid. You know those seminars they give endlessly in high school about ignoring the bullies? They do go away eventually. Take it from someone with expert experience in the field. Then again, listening to a kid who ate lunch in the bathroom was never a good idea.
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Aside from myself there was one other student: Cynthia Furr. Cynthia was everything I wasn’t and could never be. The only similarity we had was our ability to stand out in a crowd, but for different reasons. Cynthia’s beauty mirroring my awkwardness was almost a joke. She was your stereotypical, beautiful cheerleader and I, like everyone else, was in love with her. Or, well, her body really. I didn’t know much about her personality. It took all of three minutes for our teacher to fall asleep and I occupied myself with my book. Glancing over, I noticed Cynthia looking at me. I darted my eyes away as quickly as possible, my eyes lingering for just a second on Cynthia’s anatomy. The book shook in my hands when I realized she was probably judging me based on my choice in
Aside from myself there was one other student: Cynthia Furr. Cynthia was everything I wasn’t and could never be. The only similarity we had was our ability to stand out in a crowd, but for different reasons. Cynthia’s beauty mirroring my awkwardness was almost a joke. She was your stereotypical, beautiful cheerleader and I, like everyone else, was in love with her. Or, well, her body really. I didn’t know much about her personality. It took all of three minutes for our teacher to fall asleep and I occupied myself with my book. Glancing over, I noticed Cynthia looking at me. I darted my eyes away as quickly as possible, my eyes lingering for just a second on Cynthia’s anatomy. The book shook in my hands when I realized she was probably judging me based on my choice in