All The Wrong Places

Chapter 3

They say intelligence is sexy. Yeah well, that sure didn't apply to me, because i sure as hell don't think anyone has thought i was sexy for being smart. The old stereotype still holds true, guys like dumb girls. That's just how it is, because their pride won't allow girls to be smarter than them.

I found it honestly very odd, guys weren't even that smart anyway, to find a girl dumber than them simply narrowed down their options by quite a fair bit.

I'm speaking as if i hate the male species, that's not true. Maybe i just sound a little salty, which i am, that no one has ever liked me. I'm not that protagonist who had a really rough high school, who hated everything about it, who was bullied. No, high school was okay. In fact, it was a bit too okay.

It was boring. Because all i ever did was score good marks whilst everyone had their relationship problems.

It sounds stupid when i say it like that. "You know what i'd give to have your brains?" or "you don't know how hard a relationship is" and the answer is no, i don't know what you'd give and i don't know how hard it is because i've always had this brain and i've never had a relationship.

Damn. I sound full of teenage angst.

What i'm trying to say is, there's more to life than just grades. And of course grades are important, i think so too, but good grades and only good grades for your entire life sure signifies boring. You must agree. No person writes a biography about a person who simply just scored good grades their entire life.

"You should at least do something during the holiday."

It wasn't Tori this time, it was my mother. She looked weary after working all those hospital shifts.

"Sweetie, honestly. Maybe tutor some people, earn some money."

"We have enough money," i quipped.

"This is why you have no friends," my mother replied wearily, shaking her head.

"I have friends... Like, two."

"Okay, then, Ms Popular."

I lay on the couch waiting for her to say something else. This was my mother we were talking about, if she started a conversation, there had to be a reason. She wasn't the type for small talk, she always had a motive.

I waited.

"I'm going to bed," she finally said. It was 10 in the morning.

Just as she reached the top of the stairs she said, "By the way i've already found you a student, you'll be going over to his house in the afternoon at 5. He lives on 25th avenue."

I knew it. I just glared at her as a little smile creeped across her face and she disappeared into her bedroom with a slam.