The Nerd Girl

Chapter One

> for beautyatwork, bc she's the sweetest thing ever on ask.fm, and her short story backpedal is literally brilliant.

> "I want to know the first person who ever taught you your beauty could ever be reflected on a lousy piece of glass." - Andrea Gibson

O N E

- Amara -

I pound on the door mercilessly, disregarding his pleas for me to stop. And I can hear him from the hallway, the image of what he must be doing forming in my head; him shuffling around on the bed, huddling underneath the blanket, covering his face with his pillow so as to drown out my yelling. But, of course, to no avail.

"Danny, get out here!" I shout, about to kick down the barrier between us.

Finally, after another handful of seconds of banging, he throws the door open. I smirk, taking in the sight of his irritated, drowsy form. Danny narrows his eyes in a glare at me, folding his arms over his bare chest. I chuckle when I notice his wardrobe; a pair of loose gray sweats, and nothing above them.

"Jeez, Amara, why are you up so early?" He whines, his usually smooth voice now croaky with the sleep still laced through it.

"Early?" I scoff, raising a brow in amusement. "Danny, it's eight-fifteen."

He yawns tiredly, his expression one of sheer indifference. It's obvious that he's forgotten what today is. His next question confirms my suspicion, because Danny drawls, "So?"

I tap a foot on the floor impatiently. "So, school starts in about twenty minutes."

"What?" He snaps, his eyes widening in disbelief. "No... no, it doesn't. School starts on Monday."

"Today is Monday, stupid." I laugh, barging past him and into his bedroom without permission. Flopping down onto his big, waving waterbed, I look up at him as he continues to lounge in the doorway, staring at me expectantly, as though he thinks I'm about to jump up and announce to him that this was all a huge prank. But instead, I click my fingers at him menacingly. "Go on, then, get ready. Hurry!"

Danny shrugs nonchalantly and saunters into his closet. Biting back a smug grin, I hold my breath for a minute, waiting for the panic that I know is about to ensue. And sure enough, in just a moment, the familiar sounds of Danny bustling around in his closet, harping all over the place trying to figure out what to wear, filter through the closed door.

Nine years. Today, on the first day of twelfth grade, marks the nine year anniversary of when Danny and I first became friends. And I remember it like it was just yesterday; the two of us, mischievous little children in the third grade, always whispering secrets to each other and passing notes during class. Danny was my savior, even back then. I mean, come on, there weren't many people in my judgmental third grade class who wanted to associate themselves with the chubby girl who wore thick, nerd glasses. But there was never a moment when I had to face them alone, because whenever they would pick on me, Danny would come to the rescue. I can picture it now; a lanky, clumsy boy standing in front of me, warding the mean kids away.

Although, it didn't take much for them to stop. Especially when we reached the eighth grade, and Danny became one of the more attractive students at the school, and I was his dorky best friend, who no one understood his connection with. Even when I lost the baby weight and replaced the ugly glasses with contact lenses, I was a kind of crutch for Danny. He was on the brink of becoming extremely popular, and here I was, his geeky shadow, keeping him from doing so. But Danny never abandoned me. We're still the same inseparable third-graders, just as more mature, more dramatic seniors in high school.