The Science Of Keeping Secrets (Old Title: Project Nerd Conversion)

ONE ⭐ Put on a Poker Face

THE THING ABOUT me is, I'm extremely persistent. Once I set my mind on something, it would be pretty impossible to get rid of me.

Dad once said that this trait would be the key to my success, but when I used it for him to sign my Europe school trip form, he didn't appreciate it. In fact, he sat me down and warned me that my inability to take no for an answer might someday land me in prison.

Funny he should say that. Really.

Come to think of it, my stubbornness did give me some good moments. Like when I pestered Belle nonstop to help me take revenge on Claire's ex. It was not something a lone soldier could do, and they both were very reluctant. Still, through my plain hard-headedness, we managed to stuff the bastard naked in one of the gym lockers. It was a smashing success, and it proved my all-time mantra to be true. There's always a way to get everything and anything you want.

And what I want right now is for Irvin to look at me.

I poke his elbow with the tip of my pencil, batting my eyelashes in case he turns to me. And for the first time this morning, he does. Except that I wasn't expecting him to give me a look that clearly says: leave me alone.

Okay, I suppose it's not right to talk during a calculus discussion, but he ignored all the notes I slid to his side of the table. What other choice do I have? I mean, I arranged for us to have a proper conversation before first period, but he showed up exactly one minute before the bell rang.

Irvin's perfect punctuality is the reason I waited for three hours at the movies last Saturday, only to have him arrive after another hour and get furious about the popcorn. We had a shouting match over how the butter was layered. Honestly, he's a bigger drama queen than I am, and that's saying a lot.

It's really stupid, but the frustration I'm feeling for him now is still mixed with affection. I guess this is only natural. We've been together for nearly a year now, and I've liked him since we were sophomores. Belle and Claire think that he looks like an Asian Quasimodo, but to me he's a. . . .

Okay, so he's not the best looking guy out there, but who cares?

He has his highlights in the other departments, namely: a) He's sweet and caring and thoughtful, or at least sometimes he is; b) He has a rocking body, since he's the basketball captain, and; c) He finally learned to shut his mouth once in a while, which helped him boast less about the chain of restaurants in China that his father owns as well as refrain from making weird commentaries during sex.

In other words, nothing's going to stop me from trying to undo our fifth breakup of September.

I continue assaulting Irvin's elbow, and this time it's a full tantrum. I have no plans of stopping until he acknowledges my presence. All the while I chant in a whisper, "You promised, Irvin. You promised."

Instead of relenting like I want him to, Irvin snatched my pencil, snaps it in half, and shoves the pieces in his backpack.

Great. Now how am I supposed to write my notes on. . . general differential equations?

Hold on. How are we on differential equations already? I swear to God the white board was empty the last time I looked.

"This is just an overview, but listen closely because we'll continue this tomorrow and I might give a seatwork," Faust says to the class. "General differential equations involve an unknown function and one or more derivatives. . . ."

She starts to add more strips of her cramped handwriting to the already laden board, which means I should start copying before she prematurely erases everything.