Formerly Yours

Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

Incorrigible. I punched the letters into the keyboard of the undeserving, prehistoric Mayville Public High School computer before smacking the enter button, commanding Google Search to find its definition for me in 0.09 seconds.

“in·cor·ri·gi·ble- Adjective: (of a person or their tendencies) Not able to be corrected, improved, or reformed."

I begrudgingly copied the definition onto the SAT vocabulary chart Ms. Koister had assigned our AP English 4 Class. Quite frankly, I did not consider the word incorrigible to be considered a particularly advanced term, but if Ms. Koister was going to let me use it in a sentence as I wished, then I certainly would.

Although it had been rumored that Braiden had a heart, it did not take long for his fellow peers to discover that he was, in fact, an incorrigible, ignorant, heartless swine.

Ah, this was the best kind of revenge. You know, the kind of revenge for people like me, the ones who will gladly talk smack to an asshole…. so long as he remains unaware that they are even doing so. I moved on to the next word, Supercilious. Well, Ms. Koister was just providing me with ammunition in the form of the English language today, wasn’t she?

“su·per·cil·i·ous Adjective: Behaving or looking as though one thinks one is superior to others.”

I found it ironic that so many of my vocabulary words were parallel to my opinions of Braiden West. Maybe God was trying to tell me that I should get over my petty hatred for Braiden… or perhaps he was siding with me and wanted me to take me anger out on my vocabulary chart! Surely, the latter was the answer. 

I closed my eyes, temporarily giving up on my vocabulary assignment as I folded my arms on my desk and leaned forward to rest. I never sleep enough. I’m always tired—it’s probably because I stay up far too late at night reading or running, but those are things I love, why wouldn’t I spend all of my spare time doing those things? I was just exhausted, tired of being tired, tired of being stressed.

Have you ever seen a dead squirrel in the road? That limp, lifeless, bloodied carcass that mars the smooth pavement roads. When they’re alive, squirrels annoy the crap out of me. They are the bane of my dog’s existence, and (as she spends countless hours barking at them) are consequently mine as well. And yet I’ve always been the driver who steers around that body. I know running over it wouldn’t necessarily be considered “disrespectful.” I know it’s not alive. I know it will no longer feel the pain of being run over by my 2 tons of automobile, but I don’t have the heart to run over the pitiful, helplessly grotesque creature. Why? Because I know how it feels to be that squashed squirrel. 

Hell, figuratively speaking, I am that squashed squirrel. It’s been this way since I was 3 years old. And let me tell you- the last thing you need when you’re already knocked down is to take another blow to the gut. But does that mean people will take pity on you? No. So you have to change. You have to find a means of escape.

Some people select alcohol or drugs as their addiction, as their crutch in life; some grow dependent upon men, others on prostitutes, but they all have something they use to cope. I chose books.

But I’m a teenage girl. What problems could I possibly have in my life? Believe me when I say I have more issues than I care to have. I have more problems than I can deal with, and am too shy to stand up to them. So I run away—to foreign lands in other people’s imaginations with fake problems and fake solutions. Yep, that’s about as good as it gets.

I, Kasey Brenne, am a book nerd who is scared to stand up for her self.

Now, as a self-proclaimed book nerd the first thing I must clarify is my appearance.  I do not, as the cheerleaders during homecoming week on “Nerd Day” assume I appear, wear plaid micro-mini skirts, with knee-high socks, converse, a white button up shirt (only buttoned half way, of course) thick-framed glasses, and my brown hair in two French braids. No, my attire generally consists of me wearing a comfortable pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and flip-flops. Fashionable, I know. I cannot read while walking down the hallway (I’m far too klutzy for that), and I don’t wear glasses. I don’t have acne problems and I’m not short or fat. In fact, I’m average in appearance.