Stars Collide

Chapter Two: Nade

Chapter two
Nade

I knew how to function in my little world. Everything had a schedule, an order, a list. All my t’s were crossed, all my i’s were dotted(and I double checked them). I may have been dealt a bit of a rough hand in life, but I made the most of it. Being honest, I was so unlike anyone in my family, that I had probably been traded at the nursery at some point...but the positive side was that I was born into a family with money and influence, which was sure to get me somewhere in life.
I awoke to the sound of my alarm clock. I stared at the blue numbers searing the darkness of my room: 4:30 AM. I stared for five minutes before mustering up the motivation to turn the alarm off. I pulled the cord on my bedside lamp and swung my feet over the edge of my bed. I picked up the pad of paper I had set on the bedside table the night before and scribbled a handful of numbers onto it, quite pleased with myself. I did my best solving in my sleep.
I stretched my arms over my head as I slipped off the edge of the bed and onto my feet. With the force of habit I neatly made my bed up with a few quick movements. I took a brief moment to determine if my work was satisfactory or not before continuing my morning. 
I pulled my black basketball shorts and matching top from their designated space in my bottom drawer and slipped into them. I found a hair tie in the tray on my dresser and threw my hair up. I went straight downstairs to the gym. I fiddled with Alexa for a minute before I finally got her to play my podcast. I hopped on the treadmill. 
“If one chooses two random permutations in the symmetric group S_n,” Timothy Gowers continued, from the speakers, “Uniformly and independently, the probability that the two permutations generate the whole group tends to ¾ as n to infinity.”
I ran until the podcast was over, which was about a half hour.
 I loved this time of day...the majority of humanity(Including my parents) was still asleep, so the world was quiet and still: exactly the way I liked it. Quiet stillness was ideal for pondering, problem solving and equational balancing. 
Mumbling about my latest equation, I threw my workout gear in the wash with yesterday’s clothes, ate my frozen waffles(that I was sure to eat while still frozen. Very crunchy.), and scrubbed my skin and scalp vigorously in the shower.
As I rubbed the water out of my hair, i pulled my closet door open and stared at my options: black T shirt, white T-shirt, black Jean's, Dark wash blue jeans. It was a white T shirt and Black jeans kind of day. I did one last quick iron before jumping into my clothes(not forgetting to tuck the shirt into my jeans). I made sure my blue converse were spotless and white before I pulled them on, and double knotted my laces. 
Throughout my morning routine, I muttered my equation under my breath. It calmed me.
 I had blocked another half hour of my morning for scheduling, which was incredibly invigorating for me. Blocking out times and color coding tasks made me feel at complete peace with life in general, and that was a nice feeling to start the day off with, especially a Monday. 
I was out of the house by 6:45, as scheduled: 15 minutes before my parents' alarm clock went off. As I hopped on my bike and turned onto the street, the sun peeked from behind the rows of houses and splashed its golden rays on my face. The warm, early summer wind tossed my slightly damp hair, and I had to fight with it a little to keep it out of my face.
I briefly made eye contact with an older man walking his French bulldog. He raised his hand to wave at me but I gave him the finger before he could crack a smile. The look on his face was priceless.
A silver car screeched to a halt as I tried to cross an intersection without looking. 
“Out of the way, asshole!” Britt, one of my most annoying classmates, shrieked like a banshee.
I sighed, and planted my kickstand in the middle of the road. I slipped the knife out of my pocket, bent over, and slashed her front tires. I smiled pleasantly and waved with the hand my knife was in. I proceeded to drag the knife across the hood for good measure. Her jaw dropped to the ground. I hopped back on my bike and peddled on my way.
“I’ll FUCKING RUN YOU OVER, PULLOX!!!” She screamed at my back. 
I didn’t bother to look behind me. I frankly didn’t care if she ran me over. She would be doing me a favor, actually.
“I should really start waking up earlier,” I muttered to myself. It seemed like the numbskulls were waking up earlier and earlier these days.
I arrived at my local library, which was conveniently a few blocks from my school. They opened at 7:00, and I always arrived precisely at 7:15(I had paced myself exactly). The school didn't open its doors til 8:15(classes started at 8:30), so I had about 50 minutes to work on my leftover homework. I was all caught up today, so I began some work on some of my final papers and projects. I had to find some way to make my health presentation line up with my strengths; inclusion of vast amounts of numerical data seemed to be the best route. 
At 8:45, I made my way to the library check out counter with a stack of books. I was the only patron present, so there shouldn't have been any significant wait time. However, the librarian had her feet propped on the counter, and her mouth flapping with the library phone pressed against her ear.
"Oh my God, can you believe it? She's 16! Not even done with school! She has a world of hurt coming for her."
Whoever she was talking to at 8:45 AM was completely beyond me, and I honestly didn't care; but the fact that she was not only doing it on shift, and on the company phone line, but also when there were patrons present, really boiled my blood. I stood there, my patience thin as ever, ringing the bell precisely every 60 seconds(I was counting the hands of the clock that hung above the desk).
I glanced around the desk and made a few observations. On one end of the semi-circle help desk, there was a computer. There was a small amount of space between the edge of the desk and the monitor and keyboard of that computer. In that space was a grande size Starbucks coffee and a muffin, partially eaten(only a few bites here taken) and placed in an open napkin. Another thing I noticed was the trash bin that sat just beneath the edge of the desk, placed askew just enough that--
"Hold on, I've got someone waiting." The librarian placed the phone down, rolling her eyes as she stood to meet me at the front of the desk.
"How are you today?" She asked blandly, reaching for my stack. She began to scan the barcodes.
Instead of answering(I didn't feel obliged), I continued my observations. From where I stood, I could just barely see the surface of the garbage that sat in the trash bin. It was a bit unusual for a library's trash bin, in that there was a browning banana peel and the remnants of a milk shake dumped on the surface of crumpled pages(papers that, in my opinion, should have been shredded). I could faintly smell the old banana and spoiling milk.
I threw her my card as she desensitized the stack of books.
"These are due back on the 20th," she informed me with a half hearted smile. "Enjoy your day!" She scanned my card and promptly handed it back to me.
I snatched it from her hands without comment or reply. I strolled past the desk on my way to the doors. Right as I brushed past the edge of the desk, I knocked the muffin in the trash and the coffee over and onto the keyboard. The librarian was none the wiser as she chatted away on the phone.
I biked down the street and parked and chained my bike outside one of the side doors of the school. I waved my card(one I had stolen from a janitor) over the sensor. I cracked the door, elusively peeked in to make sure the hall was empty, and slipped quietly through. I opened my locker with a few quick spins and exchanged the library books for my English books. I was moving as quickly as I could, but my hands were shaking. The other students were going to pour into the building in any second. I usually timed it so that I was 15 minutes early and I could get to my class ten minutes before anyone else did, but today was ruined by the chatty librarian.
I broke into a rapid stride down the hall, as fast as my short legs could help me, praying that I could make it in time.
Unfortunately, the moment I passed the main doors, the hoard came seething in. The crowd crashed into me, pushing on all sides. With every slight brush or bump, my skin burned. It was just something that happened: any physical contact made my skin bite and burn, like a bee sting. It was like my body had learned to expect the pain so it hurt whether the contact was harmful or not. It really pissed me off.
Some shouts down the hallway made me flinch. 
"Shut the fuck up," I growled to myself. Why the hell did teenagers have to be so damn loud? The jarble of the crowd was hard enough to deal with.
A black teen boy with a track jersey and bleached dreads exploded from the crowd and rammed passed me. My shoulder flared up with pain.
Shortly thereafter, someone crashed into me head on, knocking me to the floor. A surge of pain rushed through my whole body as I hit the tiles. When I opened my eyes I was staring into the face of none other than Neith Castor, who looked a little shocked himself. One of his hands was planted in the floor near my head, propping him up. His other hand was on my chest. His breath was in my face(smelled like artificial cherry). One knee was pressed up against...well. My junk. He looked a lot more shocked than I did, though.
“Uh, sorry,” He backed away, the color shooting to his face. Despite being embarrassed, he didn’t avoid eye contact with me, which is what the majority of the population did to me. 
Meanwhile, my muscles were on fire due to the contact. I scrambled to my knees and started grabbing all the pages that had fallen out of my folder. It was difficult because my hands were shaking so bad. 
He handed me a stack that he had gathered and I snatched it away. I couldn’t bring myself to maintain eye contact with him, despite the fact he was openly staring at my eyes. I couldn’t explain it. As soon as all my stuff was picked up, I turned and rushed to my class.
I had known(ish) Neith since 4th grade. He had a way with people. He kept the peace between all of the school social groups. He kept bullies and drugs at bay. He was in as many clubs he could, most of them humanitarian. When he smiled, whole rooms lit up. He was popular—but not because he was rich, good looking or had a big dick. He was popular because he loved all people(which made him an idiot), and he was just a damn good person.
Out of everyone on the entire planet, he was the only one I couldn’t bring myself to hate—even remotely. I respected and admired him(that was an impressive feat), and I hated that fact.
The first and last thing he had ever said to me was, “Your presentation was the best one.” That was in 4th grade, Nov 13th, and the presentation topic was “A historical figure.” My figure of choice was William James Sidis(child prodigy and mathematician), and I had been working on that project for months.
Maybe its kind of stupid, but...that was the first time I had ever been recognized or praised for anything I had spent a significant amount of time and energy on. It really stuck with me. Since then, I observed him from a safe distance. Despite doing this for 9 years, I still didn’t understand him, even in the slightest. He and I were worlds apart; but for a few seconds, he was so close I could feel his breath on my face. For some reason that scattered my whole brain.
You know what a good cure for that is?? QUANTUM MECHANICS.
Yep.
I whipped out my trusty notebook Vol. #354 and returned to my problem of the week.  I invented math problems—it was what I did to relieve stress. (It wasn’t just basic algebra, mind you; It was the kind of material someone would be learning while getting their Doctorate.) When I perfected a problem, I would add it to my secondary collection, which included problems to be further reviewed for the textbook I was planning to publish soon. When my world seemed to start going south I would pull out that notebook and everything would be okay. If my notebook wasn’t around, I would do the work in my head, muttering the language of math to myself until the chaos receded.
That was kind of difficult when he was IN EVERY SINGLE ONE OF MY PRECEDING CLASSES.
STARING AT ME.
JuSt fOcuS oN thE MatH, Nade!
MATH.