A World of Our Own

"Come on, man," Kendall Watkins said, nudging me in the shoulder with his elbow.

We were sitting in the cafeteria of East Ridge High, sitting at the table with three other junior geeks like us who loved sci-fi and comic books and math. There wasn't much activity going around us except that the jocks three tables down were lifting weights to try to impress the senior girls with their overly large muscles.

What did girls see in guys like that anyway? Was it some kind of hormone thing, that girls couldn't help being attracted to muscle-bound, anvil-headed, sports junkies because it was nature? I didn't know, nor did I really care.

My best friend, Kendall or Ken, had been my best friend since middle school and we always stuck together. Even when one of us got picked on by a bully or some jerk, one of us would try to defend the other, knowing that we'd both get beat up. Needless to say, we had each other's back. Through thick and thin. No matter what.
This time was one of them, even though I wasn't totally welcome to it.

"'Come on', what?" I said, turning to Ken who sat on my right. I was trying to study for the latest chemistry test and I had a lot to study for.

Ken gave me an irritated look.

"Hello?" he said, knocking his knuckles on my head. "Anyone in there?"

"Cut it out!" I slapped his hands away, then fixed my hair the best I could. I narrowed my eyes at him, annoyed. "I'm trying to study, and I'd prefer not to fail the test because my best friend was messing with me. Now, if you excuse me." I looked back down at my textbook and the class notes I'd kept in my black, three-ringed binder.

Ken rolled his eyes.
"Chris, how could you think of studying at a time like this?"
I rolled my eyes back, huffing.

"At a time like what, Ken?" I asked.

He answered by gripping the sides of my head and turning me forward so I would see straight ahead. Across the cafeteria, sitting with the other popular girls of our junior class in the back, was Cynthia Anderson. I'd had a crush on her since sixth grade, the same year I met Ken. She was talking to another girl, Britteny Johan, a cheerleader, while folding a strand of pale blonde hair behind her ear.

I felt like I could smell the Strawberry Mist perfume she always wore just by looking at her.
I swallowed, hard, then jerked my head down--in case Cynthia looked up and saw me staring.

"You missed it!" Ken said. "She was totally looking right at you. I think she likes you."
I finally looked up, shaking my head. "No way, Ken." Cynthia Anderson was the most beautiful, most popular girl in the junior year class, quite possibly in all of East Ridge High. "She'd never want a nothing like me. Besides, I heard rumors she's going to ask Greg Barton to be her study partner for the test."
Greg Barton was the captain of the football team at our school, and he was a senior.

Ken waved his hand dismissively. "Pfft, please. That jerk? He can't even tie his shoes unless the coach helps him."

I couldn't help but snicker.

"Look, Chris, you're my bro. And bros help their bros out, right?"

It took me a minute to understand what Ken was saying before I finally nodded. "Yea."

"So, as your bro, I am advising you," he pointed to me, then pointed to Cynthia, "to ask her on a study date. Offer to help her out." He cupped his hand around his mouth and whispered into my ear. "I heard that she's really bad at chemistry."

I stopped smiling, and jerked away from him. "Ask her out? Are you crazy?"

"It's a study date, Chris. There's no harm in just studying. Heck, it's not even a date if you have books in front of you. It's basically like regular studying--only with a smoking hot girl sitting next to you."