Undercover As Geek

The Initiation

The day passes too fast. I try to drag it out as long as I possibly can, but despite my efforts, the last bell of the day is blaring in my ear, reminding me that my time is up. 

I am especially meticulous putting up the microscope we were using in Chemistry, wrapping and unwrapping its cord until perfection. Then I notice a speck of dust on the table and I scrub at it with a Kleenex until the blemish is gone. The students have all left now, and the room is barren. I gasp when I see a gum wrapper on the floor and stoop to pick it up, tusking.

As I throw away the litter, I hear a deep grunt behind me. I turn. It is Mr. Filmore, and he is scowling, like always. 

"Miss Bradshaw," he says. "Do you need something?"

"No," I reply, innocence radiating from my face. 

Mr. Filmore heaves a sigh and looks at his watch. "If that is the case, it is 3:04, and I would like to go home."

"Oh," I say. Gee, I think. School ended four minutes ago. What's the rush?

The teacher lets out a breath again and taps his foot. "Oh, um," I say, and pick up my backpack. "I guess I'll be leaving now." I gather my things and reluctantly exit the room, Mr. Filmore at my heels. 

Before I know it, I am alone in the hallway. I feel the seconds tick away in my brain and Asher's voice begins to echo in my head, pleading me. I sigh. No point in delaying it further, I think, and begin to drag myself to room 147. 

 Mr. Molten is West Collier's Physics teacher. He is tall and lanky, and I see him occasionally going to the office in a tie graffitied with math equations or sketches. Whether they were print on them or drawn, I never knew. I always heard he was a good teacher, if a little bit obsessed at times. Marlene, a senior, said that he once baked an amazing layered gourmet cake, decorated it, and then dropped it in front of the class to demonstrate a theory of something. 

Judging by his acclaimed reputation, I figure he is a perfect host for the UFOrdinance. 

I have arrived at his room and my hand is limp on the metal handle. I hesitate, still unsure about submerging myself into this club. It's not that big of a deal. I'm just joining a club, out of interest. Asher's story just happens to be strung into all of this. They won't really make fun of the club, they'll just explain the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth...

"Are you going in?"

I jump. The boy behind me scratches his chin, waiting. He is six inches or so taller than me with curly brown hair and a pair of cinnamon eyes peering over a long nose. I don't think I have ever seen him before, and I guess that he's a junior, one year above me. 

"I... Uh..." My hand falls off the door handle, but I make up my mind. "Yes, I am."

The boy shrugs. "Okay," he says. "Come on, then." He opens the door, and I have no choice but to walk inside. 

In the large classroom, a few desks are clumped together, and occupying them are several students, all with wide eyes, many freckles, and huge backpacks. When I walk in, they stare at me menacingly. I freeze a few steps in, held in place by their suspicious glares. There are about twenty of them, and they are all perfect examples of what most people picture when they imagine the word "geek". My eyes search for any product of clothing from this last decade and find none. I swallow.

Slowly, a red-haired boy with wire glasses stands. "Noah," he says, and I know by the high pitch that he hasn't fully achieved puberty. "Who's she?"

The boy who followed me in-- Noah-- steps farther into the room. I notice that besides me, he is the only other person without freckles. And that with his deep voice, he has definitely reached puberty. Passed it, probably. He shrugs. "I dunno," he says. "Maybe ask her why she's here."