I know the teachers better than I do the students.
For instance. The economics teacher, Mister Cabel, is banging the cafeteria lady in the math department every night before he goes home to his wife.
If I had my brother’s cunning way for blackmail, I could have made big bucks with that, but it’s not in me, because I don’t care.
Apathetic. A therapist once diagnosed me as being.
I’m not quite at genius level—that sucks. Instead, I work at it; I hone my skills and I don’t give up. I see a problem and I figure a way to make it work.
If that means I become indifferent to the world around me. Meh, who cares?
There isn’t time to invest in other people and their shower of neediness.
Would it be nice to be popular like Lachlan is? Perhaps. He controls the school, but not in a jerk way. Everyone either loves Lachlan or is afraid of him.
Theo is the sports junkie. Lachlan the majestic hacker, Raene is our drama queen and I’m the forgotten Fierro. Thank god.
“Sage, glad to see you’re not late.” I swerve my head around to the male voice and meet the eyes of a teacher. “Am I good to head into the lab now?”
“You know you don’t have to ask.”
I know that, but I always ask anyway. Mom instilled manners in me before I could hold my first screwdriver. It’s why I don’t put my fist in a certain smug face every day.
Oh, it’s difficult to hold off.
I’m not a fighter. I’d lose, but I want to do it more than ever.
Being in the advanced classes secures me free time to work on my engineering projects. If I’m king of anything, it’s the science department. The teachers there love me because I earn grants for the school by winning competitions.
I don’t ask to be singled out.
All I want is to be left alone so I can pass my tests and kick around with my inventions.
I want to build and invent something so fucking magnificent that my name will be here long after I am.
Some might say it’s ambitious for a kid my age.
I’d say I’m empty noise without my ambition.
Being the way I am has put a halo of indifference around me. It isolates me as someone unlike everyone else. I’m not a cookie cutter teen and that bothers other people.
I don’t fit in.
What’s the point?
I don’t like most people.
They’re pedestrian with neediness.
Maybe I am apathetic.
For someone like me, I stand out like an outbreak of herpes.
This place doesn’t encourage anyone to be their authentic selves. Everyone is faking their personality.
Moving along the hallway, I unlock the lab and toss my messenger bag onto the nearest table.
I have a tech class at 12 with the new teacher, Miss Sloan, but until then I’m free to work out the kinks on my test subject. If I can figure it out. My solar microchip has given me some hard days where I want to toss it into the trash and start something new. But I can’t quit. My diagnostic brain won’t let me quit. I’ve been working on it for months with good results so far, if I can fix the glitches. A chip that needs no outsourcing electricity or battery power will revolutionize smart devices in the near future.
As hard as I work, going over mathematic variables and coding, my mind continues drifting to one person.
The one that’s been a thorn in my side for months now because he’s seen it as his mission to make my life miserable. For whatever reason,—only the rich prick knows why.
Finn Maverick is not my type.
At all.
He’s loud. Cocky. The massive chip on his shoulder means he thinks the world should bow down and simper for his presence.
It doesn’t matter if he has model quality features with piercing gray eyes. Strong cheekbones and a mouth people look at and think about sex. Or that his body is rock hard with lean muscles from all the football he plays. His frame is long and appealing, if you like that kind of thing.
I definitely don’t.
I go for guys like me. The smart geeks and out of the closet queers.
He stinks of the closet, and that’s what brings out the asshole in him.
He’s made me his aim for ridicule.
Every bully has a hobby, and I’m Finn’s.
He’s not in Lachlan’s league, but there’s no denying he has a gravitational pull for all the degenerates in the school. I wonder if that’s the reason my eyes always seem to stray toward him? Am I attracted to assholes too?
He hated my other brother, Theo, for no other reason than Theo was a better quarterback. Petty little fucker. Envy is never a good look.
Guess I’m a stereotypical queer because I don’t play sports. I can, I’ve tossed more balls around with Theo than I can count, but it’s not enjoyable. I do it because he’s my brother and one of the best guys I know. I can mentally pick apart a football game like I approach any mathematical equation. But I don’t get the enjoyment out of it like he does.
Finn is a skilled jock. Now that Theo is in college, Finn is the quarterback, and he uses his elevated status as top dog to prowl around the school like he owns it.
I can trace this total mess to the day we collided outside of a classroom. I wasn’t watching where I was going. When his eyes met mine, I was sure he felt the static energy through his fingertips too. I was sure of it until his lip curled in a scowl and he shoved me away.
I’m aware he experienced it too. That sudden heat bouncing between us. A hit of attraction before he turned ugly and hate filled.
His one man hate campaign started after that.
Whether he sensed I could see his dirty secret or not, he made me a focal point and he tries to goad me at every opportunity.
The guy is a grade A jerk.
So knowing that, there’s no logical reason why I pay attention to him.
I hate that most of all.
What kind of moron does that make me if I find the guy—who bothers me—attractive?
Fuck me. I need a lobotomy.
Maybe this new desire has burned out some of my smarts.
I probably need a boyfriend.
Every time I see his smug face, I want to taste his fuller lip and tug on his stupid hair. I want to feel how hard his solid belly is and know the scent of arrogance from the dip of his neck.
I’m crazy to give him any thought when he does nothing but annoy the shit out of me. The guy is a pussy magnet, surrounded in girls trying to latch their stars to his confidence.
I’ll give him that. His confidence is off the charts.
I still hate him. Pushing the good-looking Neanderthal from my brain, I compartmentalize the trivial bullshit to put my time to my project.
For the next hour, I work on figuring out the ratio of electrical pulses.
My fingers are numb from random scribbles in my notebooks. Notes to myself to work on later at home when I don’t have the added noise of kids and bells ringing.
It’s when I feel heat along my arm that I finally look up from my work to see Chelsea smiling. Like I’ve invented the second moon.
I sigh because I know what’s coming.
It’s her one-woman crusade.
She’s a friendly girl who wears tight jeans and big boots. She makes me laugh with her anecdotes, she’s into comics and eats liquorice by the bucket load.
I wait for it and she doesn’t disappoint when she tousles my hair from its already unruly state.
Why are girls so tactile?