Prodigy

Chapter 2

"Blake Johnson," the teacher announced.

"Here."

"Congratulations, Blake. You have achieved the perfect attendance award. Keep this up until the year and you'll get the best student award!"

"Yay, that's great. What fun," Blake said sarcastically.

"Congrats, Blake."

"Dude, you got it all..."

"I love you, Blake. Please date me!"

Blake didn't want to say 'here' one more time. He hated going to school. What did he have to learn? He had the knowledge of all the renowned scientists combined, and he was in high school. In high school. He was wasting nine hours in school every day, when he could 1) read 5 books (mind you, the books are as thick as fuck) 2) play video games and beat his previous day's high score 3) learn one new language (it wasn't hard for him). He would be an even brainier genius if he hadn't spent all that time in school. But nooo, his parents thought it was best for him to continue school as a normal teenager. He was infuriated with the idea. He wasn't normal. He was America's smartest prodigy. He received numerous awards to prove it. As if his parents knew what was best for him; heck, his parents didn't know what would be best for the couch. Yes, the couch. His parents were that bad at parenting.

He also got way too much attention. Yeah, other people crave for this attention. Yeah, people liked attention. But he wasn't one of them. He wanted attention from someone else. He hated being surrounded by ten girls (or boys) in the morning when he came to school, asking whether he could go to their houses, or how to beat the grand master in a video game, or what colour his underwear was. It wasn't his fault that he was super hot, had cool, dark eyes, his hair looking cool even when he just woke up. It wasn't his fault that he had perfectly sculpted abs and eight, tight pectorals (technically, it was his fault, but it wasn't his fault that his parents passed down genes that made him want to workout). But still, the attention made him sick. He barfed at the sight of his 'admirers'.

He sighed while the teacher asked the students to open their maths textbook to page 93. Again, a note was placed on his table. It was from one of the girls who wanted to invite him to her house. He crumpled it and walked over to the trash can to dump it, looking at the girl who placed it on his table. How could people be so annoying? As the teacher explained to the class about analytic trigonometry, that was when he decided he needed to escape from all of this. He couldn't stand the attention, and also he was bored to death every day.

Tomorrow, he would start this plan.