The Vogue Nerd

The Nerd

I'm sitting at the my favorite spot in the school library. A desk and chair in the corner. Just my perfect introverted spot. Apple laptop on desk. Skullcandy Headphones around my neck. Hair in a messy bun(I'd fix it in the bathroom later) and waterbottle of honeyed water on the corner of the table where it couldn't fall on my laptop or fall from the table. U.V protection glasses on my eyes. I have perfect eyesight but I use glasses anyway. Global warming dangers require them.

My hair's up in a quick, messy bun because I'm trying to break my record on the speed and accuracy math test. I had already checked and cross-checked all of last night's homework. I come to school extra early so I always have plenty of time to spare. I need my hair out of my eyes and out of my glasses to concentrate properly. I would have much preferred one of those soft beanbags but they weren't posture-smart and speed and accuracy games always required a proper and alert posture. I solved one last inequality and the game came to an end. I inwardly squealed when I saw I had broken my previous record. I always liked achieving something I set my mind to do.

I checked my watch and saw I had roughly twenty-five minutes to spare. I quickly estimated and focused in my head and decided, five minutes to pack up my stuff, five minutes to rush to a bathroom, ten minutes to fix my hair and pack up my hair stuff. Then five minutes to rush to class. I counted mississipis in my head and packed up my laptop, water bottle, and homework books into the appropriate compartments in my book bag. All in 5 minutes. I had unplugged my headphones from my laptop and plugged it into my phone which was in my pocket but I didn't play any music. Not yet anyway.

I grabbed my bag and ran up the stairs to the floor where my classroom was located. The fifth floor. The library was on the second floor. The fifth floor was the 12th grade floor. The senior floor. I was a year younger than the standard age for the 12th grade but I was in the 12th grade anyway. From whispers and small glimpses of pieces of documents in the office, I had gathered that I was actually supposed to be two years younger than the standardized age for the 12th grade but my parents didn't believe in overstepping the line of grade skipping. They believed in "taking your time because these are the best years of your life".
L.i.t.t.l.e do they know. I had also gathered that it was because of my "mind-blowing scores on every state test" that I was supposed to be skipped twice but who gives a Damn?

I made a sharp right turn and ran into the female bathroom still counting mississipis. I had made it into the door at exactly five minutes. I quickly took out my hair-fixing kit and pulled out the scrunchie holding up my dumb bun. I took off my glasses and placed them on the base of the sink. I felt the urge to calculate the area and perimeter of the sink but those mississpis were still counting. I ran a comb through my blackish-red hair and pulled my hair into a simple bra-length braid. I took an anti-bacterial wipe out of my wipe pack and ran it over my glasses then used the handkerchief to dry it. Then I put the glasses on. I stared at my reflection for approximately 22 seconds then took out another wipe, wiped the comb and put the comb back in the lot, then put the kit back in the bag. I slung my bag over my shoulder. Using observatory skills, I'd noticed that pulling my hair back had made my green eyes more....distinct. I almost smiled at the prospect of that.
According to my mississipis, I had two minutes left. I took the used wipes, tossed them in the disposal unit and slid out of the door just as the ten minutes ended.

I started counting mississpis again. I estimated that if I added an extra 3 seconds to my walking speed. I would arrive at my homeroom door exactly as the bell was ringing to signal the start of the day. So I multiplied my walking speed by a unit rate of three seconds and just as I stepped in front of the homeroom door, the bell rang all through the school. I slipped out Othello from my bookbag and started reading it for the sixth time that week. I leaned against the wall while maintaining posture and balancing out the weight of my bookbag. Soon I heard voices chattering around me. I blocked out everything and buried myself into the dramatic scenes only Shakespeare could create while waiting for the familiar hearty voice of our homeroom teacher, Mr. Henderson.

And so, my story begins......