The Nerd Has A Boner: Chapter Five

"One can choose love or jealousy. When you find something that can give you both, it is more dangerous than a thorn." - Anonymous

Juliet Anne

The money is mine. Sarah is not winning. You may think this friendship we have is special but it isn't. People will know who won that newspaper. It'll be me. This bitch for the last four years has flaunted her money and her pretty little rich house she lived in.

Every day I came over, there were decorations for every holiday and the fridge had every option for food. It wasn't fair they were given all of this like a silver platter. I, on the other hand, had no celebration of any holiday including helping my Mother eat. She's been bedridden for quite some time. My father came home with pantry food because there wasn't enough money to go for groceries. I am jealous of her. She has the better side of the mirror.

A better life.

All that ever went down with my family is pain. My sick pathetic Mother. They supposedly said she is having lung problems. Which is causing her failure to breathe. The complication probably is smoking. I was sad but I hardened myself because she never listened when we told her to stop smoking.

She used to be able to walk but now she's a bird with no wings. Since then I've hidden her from the outside world and my friends. I don't need pity for my family. My father worked very hard to make me happy but I never liked anything he did for me. It wasn't as good to be Sarah's family.

Nobody understood me.

It wasn't enough that she didn't care about me and made fun of my family.

One night, my father said he was heading out. When I heard that my father was heading out somewhere, I just had to know where it was and why it could be so important at such a late time in the night.

The sun wasn't up. It was pitch black outside. I was having Fredrick drive me there. He told me to get up after he straightened things with the police. I dribbled and smelled disgusting. The alcohol gave me the smell.

We drove there as I gave directions. Fredrick looked around for any lights. He couldn't see anything. "Don't you think this is a bit creepy?" He scrunched up his face while glaring at me.

"No, just wait here. I'll be out in a minute," I whispered.

My Mother is asleep with the pills I gave her. She should be knocked out for a while. I opened the car to slowly close it for any noise. Their house has a gate to the front. My hands unlatched it. I went to the smaller windows to peer in. Nobody is home. Fredrick kept watch of anyone.

I question why Father would go out this late. I know Sarah's house. My mind wanted to confirm what I knew. A middle-aged woman had her arms around a man. I pushed my face closer to get a better look. The man is my father in nothing but draws. That lady is Sarah's Mother. It's over for Sarah.

Sarah Hill

After exiting Principal Stewart's office, I looked down the hallway. My next class before lunch is Gym. I'm lucky that I don't need any books today. Half of my body is dry. The rest is wet with sadness and partial water from outside. I walked towards the multi-purpose space with my clogged shoes leaving wet prints.

My ears could pick up on the janitor that is yelling for my footprints after he mopped this floor. I have bigger worries than him. I have a late pass from the ladies in the main office. Every time I visit there, they whisper about me.

Am I scary?

The other students turned to me when the gym doors opened loudly. The floors in the gym were cleaned this summer. It won't stay like that when the freshmen get here. Sometimes, they sneak food in and throw up during their laps. That janitor is breaking his back for them.

It's cold inside the gym with the air conditioning probably high. The coach is rambling about a running test being taken today. Everyone in the Gym snapped their heads to look at me.

Their eyes looked me up and down intensely. I scratched my arm at just the thought of their eyes boring into me. I kept a distance from everyone in the class. Their eyes told me they knew about me. So much for a new start.

"Nice of you to join us erm..other kid. Please, get in line with everyone else," he said with a fake smile.

I'm guessing since it's the first day, we don't have to change into anything. I took the gym coach's instructions and stood with everyone else. My eyes avoided contact with anyone that watched me. I hate to be the center of attention. It feels like I'm ready to implode. Oliver is one of many brain weirdos in this class.

How could I have been so unlucky?

I wanted to have a fair grade score this year without any competition. Oliver is my competition. I would be second if he were in first.

My grades would have to be up for Mother to give me a small amount of allowance on weekends. It was just enough to buy small trinkets at stores.

My head bends for me to see Oliver without him noticing. He picked at the threads of his jeans. His eyes were looking down the whole time. Now there is no way for me to escape him. I'm stuck with him in this class for the rest of the school year.

Did his eye heal? I bet it's still sore.

If he comes up to talk about last weekend, I'll make a run for it.

How come a monster couldn't swallow me right now??

This is something that I wonder about a lot. The Gym coaches whistle us to a circle, "Split up on each wall. We're doing the fitness pacer test. Chop chop," He clapped. The worst lesson of the gym. An animal could die if given the same test.

I hate to run because my chest would hurt after a while. Students formed two divided groups on the wall to start. My legs are in no shape to exercise. The recording said, Go.

My sprinting began. My feet squeak to reach the other side. This gym makes running to the other side like running cross country. I'm out of shape.

It doesn't help that my shoes have water in them from earlier. Fast food is getting to me. My attention is sidetracked by the sweat I can feel forming on my armpits and legs. The air conditioning cooled me down when I do break a sweat.

This boy would not leave my mind. I'm worried about him. I have a heart after all. It was partially my fault he got a boner. I don't want it to be my fault for him crying or being forced to act that way.

Who even taught him to move that way?

Oliver ran with a strut to his steps making the hair on his forehead move from side to side. He didn't break a sweat at all. His arms aren't built or muscled but they look smooth.

Oliver's shoes effortlessly moved. The sweat then started beading at his temples. Oliver's stature can put me in a trance.

When I looked back to continue running, I thought I was going to fall from the wetness beneath my shoes again. A hard body hit me with a sharp force doing just that. I moved back. The wall supported me.

"Ow, watch it. You could've hit this priceless face, you know," the person said.

Says the one that bumped into me.

My eyes couldn't open. I placed my hands to my head. The small bump formed. The gym looks blurry for a minute. I scowled up at the stupid kid that made me fall. My body slowly stood to see Brandon who bumped me. His lean body reminded me of a donkey. Only strained breaths were released.

Brandon Wills.

Brandon Wills goes crazy for the girls. The girls go crazy for Brandon Wills. I'm not sure how Brandon would take cheerleaders bending over with his name on their cheeks. Most of his family and backstory are unknown. Nobody knows his background story. It's a difference to everyone knowing everything. Another one of Fredrick's friends.

The dumbest of the group.

You would believe it's the remix of 'The Mean girls.' It is disgusting what students in this school have done before just for a reputation. My pondering is interrupted when the loud whistle reaches my ears. I turned my head away to cover my ringing ear.

"I did not take this job to have you people slacking. You better Hurry up and hit the other side, Hills." The Gym coach picks up the megaphone to yell from his place at the stands.

His lazy self won't get up to tell me it to my face

Brandon brushed himself off and continued running. I pushed myself off the wall and rubbed my shoes on the ground. My coach has to find something better to do with his life than punish us with laps.

Lunch is crammed in. The lunch ladies have gotten older and older with grouchier faces than last year. I barely spend time in the cafeteria. Too many people watching me while I eat. The awkwardness of being there is too much. A piece of nugget won't swallow down my throat if there are millions of people watching me.

My appetite is gone after finding that newspaper. The yogurt was good enough. I left the cafe with chocolate milk in my hand. I pushed the carton to my lips. The chocolatey goodness passed down my throat. I check my locker to make sure there is nothing new posted there. The thought of feeling protected feels good at the moment.

Everything was fine at the beginning of last week. Even though I am mad at Juliet, I wonder what she is doing right now. I know she'll come to me about this. We don't let small arguments bother our friendship. We sort it out like our art show fiasco in ninth grade. The abandoned art room is the best spot.

This art class used to be for art but there was a time where someone decided to bring their pet to school. A small puppy can run fast. It went through all of the art supplies. The puppy peed on every surface. The substitute teacher was allergic to the breed of the puppy. They didn't take their puppy out of the classroom. So, the art teacher took herself out of the classroom. The substitute couldn't carry on the class with her face swelling and continuous sneezing.

Who knew that's all it took for her to leave.

She jumped from her desk during the lesson of Frida Khalo. The bag she forgot and her heels when she ran from the classroom sat lopsided on the ground. She ran out of the school building. I heard someone took her heels that day before Principal Stewart came. They pawned it on craigslist.

Now the room is used as a teenage hangout. People hooked up and did whatever they want. On my way there, I caught a glimpse of Juliet talking to Fredrick in a hushed tone by the office. I'm too far to read their lips.

That is peculiar.

Juliet never talks to Fredrick. But, I can't control who she talks to. It's nothing. I walk into the art room. There's spare paper behind two desks here. I slip a bunch of computer paper out of a desk. A pencil is in one of my pockets. The point is sharpened. I write the rest of the headline I was working on.

The door suddenly opens. The closed space brought me to another world. A world where I'm not stared at or judged. The rectangular window shined sunlight into the classroom.

A set of trees had apples hanging from them. We planted that last year for community service. The janitor takes care of the garden. Being so wrapped up, I didn't hear the door close. Neither did I hear the footsteps.

The shadow in front of me blocks the light for me to see my writing. My head rises to see his face. Oliver's heavenly face in front of me.

His face is fuckable. What am I thinking?!

What is my luck today?

It's not on my side. The roll of my eye is clear. I wanted my eyes to keep rolling until they drop out. Maybe, Oliver would leave then.

The confrontation I was curving is here. "I saw you while I was passing by this classroom," Oliver darted his eyes to look at the wall behind me.

At the end of the pencil, I chewed until the eraser came off. I spit it at my side. I scratched my arm.

The anxiety is eating me alive.

"We need to stop beating around the bush," we both stuttered out the same sentence. I look away with a red face.

Oliver rubbed the behind of his neck. He dropped his duffel bag to the floor. The weight of the bag looked heavy for him. It hit the ground with a thud. Other noises are heard from the stuff inside being shifted. That looks a lot like sports gear.

Is he trying out for football this year? The logo on the duffel bag had a football print.

He never looked me in the eye. Oliver's feet tapping the ground starts to sound loud in my ear. The watch on his hand ticked before I speak, "Well, you're a jerkface to assume I would humiliate you. It was just bad timing at that party." I swallowed the butterflies in my stomach.

This never happened on Friday. Why am I flustered?!

I watched his timorous expression."I think I'll call you butterscotch. You have the aspects of it. You can be argumentative and pretty to look at. Then you're sugary, but rough on the edges," Oliver described me from my appearance and verbal language.

That's all it took for him to make a basic analysis of me. Exactly what I hate the most.

This dude is beyond a dork. He's a robot!

In my opinion, I am not any of those adjectives he used.

What the fuck do I look like to him?! A joke?

"Cut the bullshit, Oliver. We aren't friends for you to have a nickname for me. It was one night and it was a mistake. Don't make this weird." My sitting position gave him the advantage of towering over me. He didn't answer or look at me.

"You are not taking me seriously, you're not looking me in the eye. Speak! If you want an apology then here it is, I'm sorry," I retorted.

My shoes hit the ground harshly. I stand to meet him eye to eye. Oliver watched behind me at the bland wall. Never once did he make eye contact. This is making me mad. My hands slowly approached his face for him to snap his eyes at me.

Like a cat's eye, he looked wild with soft thorns. He was waiting for me to do this. Oliver caught my hand. I couldn't seem to pull away. His face broke into a grin. My hand lifted to the air for me to step back. Oliver took that action to trap me against the wall. A redness flushing to his cheeks.

"Chill out. I was thinking and you disrupted it. You wouldn't close your mouth. Now, look at us," He signaled the proximity of our bodies.

My heart wasn't beating. My legs are ready to buckle. He loosens his hold to my hand. Oliver's face is as red as a cherry pie. The small dimples he has stuck out. The light shining on both of us.

"I was drunk. We both hated it. People will talk about it, who cares. Things happen, accept it," He said. My hand dropped when he let go. I watched him in bewilderment. It's not that easy. Oliver grabs his hair to run through it a couple of times. The shyness peaked from him.

Aw, that wasn't cute at all.

"Whatever you say mister big shot," I mutter. He still heard me. I can't accept my Mother's cheating. Juliet can't accept what I said. It doesn't work. My body buzzed from earlier. I can't focus on finishing this headline. I look down to see his shoe print in the middle. He's going to pay for this!

"You asshat! My paper has your nasty footprint on it. There is a deadline tonight!" I picked up the paper that was written from top to bottom. I fling the paper to his face. He didn't see it coming. The paper lightly brushed his face before he grabbed it.

"How about we forget it never happened? In return, I'll rewrite the paper for you," He proposed, staring down with guilt. Oliver's pockets had pens and erasers sticking out. His jeans are ironed and new.

"Bold of you to assume I haven't already." I folded my arms. My hair fell in front to cover my face.

I'm willing to give this asshole one chance. Oliver brings his face to a sad smile. The paper that was in his hands is tucked neatly into his jeans pocket. This is the Oliver everyone knows that I haven't seen but heard of. Not the forced drunk Oliver that I saw on Friday. I attempt to sway the mood from being sappy,

"Friends?" I say mockingly. A wholehearted laugh erupts from his chest beneath his Cuban collar shirt. My heart thumped.

‟Yeah, I would like that butterscotch."

The bell rings...