The Nerd [BXB]

8 𖠇 Avoiding Bad Influences

   I remain on my seat patiently, a book resting on top of my desk as the class remains silent. As I look down at the words, invested on the storyline, something small hits the back of my neck. I rub my neck and see a little piece of crumpled paper on the floor beneath me.

   I turn around.

   There is a guy with extremely short, brown hair waving at me. He points at his calculus test and then raises two fingers twice. I nod when I comprehend that he needs the answer for question number twenty-two with his hand signals.

   I try to remember what the question was about.

   "Michael!" Mrs. Gilbert calls out. "Instead of asking for the answers, why don't you study next time before taking a test."

   The guy who is apparently named Michael growls and starts figuring out his test. Meanwhile, Mrs. Gilbert stands up from her desk and walks up to me. "You may leave the class early, Theo," she whispers. "Last period is about to be over in fifteen minutes and you're the only one done."

   I glance at the clock above the board, the ticking of it being the only sound during the test, besides a growl of someone's stomach. I could go help Mrs. Mills organize the books before school is over. "Alright," I say, shutting my book close. "That sounds good."

   I pack my things and rise from my chair. Mrs. Gilbert waves goodbye at me with a smile before I step out of her class.

   The hallways are empty as I walk over to the library. The only sound is the tapping of the soles of my Converse on the blue tiles. As I get near the library, I realize that the lights inside are off which means that she got to leave early. Makes sense since there is not much organizing to do. After all, no student ever steps in there unless the student is named Theodore Walker.

   Bummed out, I decide to head outside of the building to wait for my mother's arrival on a bench. The sun stings my eyes the second I open the door and let the light in.

   The bench rests near the school building, under an oak tree that casts a shadow over it. I take a seat and unzip my bag after placing it by my side. I have an assignment due tomorrow for my psychology class so might as well finish it now that I have the time. When I open my laptop, I realize that someone is standing in the parking lot, leaning against a huge truck.

   I instantly recognize the shaggy, dark hair.

   Oscar has something between his fingers, resting between his lips. A cigarette. He lowers the cigarette, leans his head back on the truck and puffs out a cloud of smoke. His eyes are closed for a while before slowly opening. He must have felt my eyes on him because he soon notices me on the bench.

   My stomach sinks into a never-ending hole.

   He drops the cigarette on the pavement and steps over it. He proceeds to stroll my way, shoving both hands inside his pockets.

   I lower my eyes to the laptop's screen, hoping that he would just walk right by me without paying much attention to me.

   "What's up?"

   He sees me.

   I give him a glance, pushing my glasses up my nose. "Hello."

   "What are you doing out here?" he asks, standing right in front of me. "Skipping?"

   "No, no," I assure him. "I finished a test early so my teacher allowed me to leave."

   He nods. "Sounds more probable considering it's you."

   I close my laptop slowly. "What is that supposed to mean?"

   "Sorry, dude" he apologizes, raising his hands in defense. "That sounded less rude in my head."

   "It's fine," I say.

   He points at my bag.

   "Oh, right." I take it down and lay it on the grass.

   He sits, stinking with the smell of tobacco. "When do we start the project?"

   I raise an eyebrow, trying not to quench my nose at the awful smell. "What do you mean?"

   "We are partners," he reminds me, looking at me. "English, remember?"

   "I was going to work alone," I admit. "I've always worked alone."

   "You didn't have a partner before I arrived?"

   I shake my head. "No."

   He stares at me.

   I look down at my lap, feeling a warmth on my cheeks, avoiding his attention. There is something strange about his eyes that makes them sinful to look at. As if they were not made to be seen, but to be praised by only those worthy of such delicacy.

I've never seen blue eyes as light as his, although I do avoid making eye contact with almost everyone at my school. Every girl and guy in Sunset High must be swooning over them

   "I want to help you," he says. "Besides, I need to improve my grades."

   I finally look at him when his eyes drift to the vehicles on the parking lot. "Your grades will not improve with you skipping classes."

   He grins. "Sometimes I need time away from the teachers."

   I remain silent, still looking at him. There is a mole on his long neck, next to his Adam's apple.

   "They talk and talk yet somehow teach nothing to their students," he rants. A curl falls on his forehead so he tucks it behind his ear. "The nonsense they speak makes me want to punch their fucking faces."

   My eyes widen, surprised by his cursing although I shouldn't be. He skips a period just to smoke a cigarette, what more should I expect from him? To take the Bible of out his bag on his free time and shower in holy water every night?

   "I am not using you to obtain a good grade," he says, turning to me.

   This time I don't look away, defying his stare.

   "I will help you with whatever I can," he says. "I am sure that you will be more helpful than the teachers at this school."

   I chew the inside of my cheek. "Alright. We'll work on it together."

   He smiles, eyes enlightening. "When do we start?"

   "I was planning on starting today—"

   "Great!" he snaps. "Want to work at my house or yours?"

   I shrug. "Does not matter."

   "I have to take care of my sister after work," he says. "So my place?"

   "Sure," I agree. "At what time do you get out of work?"

   His smile drifts away. "Late. Hope you don't mind."

   "How late?" I ask.

   He flinches as he says, "Eleven."

   Yeah. I shouldn't have agreed to do this. But I can help him improve his grades and it looks like he truly wants to learn something. Besides, how am I supposed to tell him to get off work just for the sake of my sleep when his priorities to provide money for the family are much more important?

   "Then you must be grateful that today is Friday," I say, "which means I can stay up late."

   He smiles once again. "Nice!"

   I smile back, appreciating his enthusiasm to get our work done. "Where do you live?"

   "Give me your phone number." He hands me his phone and I type my number in. "I will call you when I get off work," he says once I return it back to him.

   "Alright," I say. "I'll be waiting."

   The doors open and students begin to pour out like ants out of an ant's nest.

   Oscar stands up and starts to walk away. "Expect my call, Theo!"

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