Not Your Average Nerd

Chapter Four

Royce got in trouble that day but one trip to detention didn’t stop him. Jokes were made all throughout the year and even continued as we kept going up in grades. He gave me the name Coffin-dweller in seventh grade, spread the rumor that I drank animal blood in eight grade, and started calling me the infamous name “Dracula’s Bitch” in ninth grade. I hated him so much for being the creator of so many names and the starter of so much ridicule. It wasn’t fair that I had to put up with so much just because everyone always wanted to be his friend. He was rude, pushy, and demanding. How did everyone want to be his friend while no body wanted to be mine? I wasn’t rude or mean or nasty. In fact, I was as nice as possible whenever I had to speak to someone (or whenever someone had to speak to me, more like it). Why was I friendless? It was one of those things that even I couldn’t understand and I could understand a lot.

He was always that cute boy girls in the same class used to have secret crushes on. His floppy hair and dimples always seemed to melt the hearts of every eight year old and had them tossing their pencils and erasers at him. Once the puberty years rolled around and he was no longer “cute” but seen as hot, with his muscular athletic build, perfectly gelled and styled black hair, amazing hazel eyes, and a voice that could melt metal with. Royce didn’t seem to speak anymore; he purred his words. In high school, instead of throwing pencils and erasers, girls were practically handing him bras and panties. Even though he was the biggest ass to me in Astoria, I couldn’t deny that he was sexy. Did that mean my feelings for him changed in any way? No. Actually, they seemed to darken. How dare he be so attractive? I’m supposed to hate every inch of that boy, not watch his butt as he walked by.

There wasn’t much I could really say to my mother about the store. I mean, I felt bad for every person being forced to take orders by that demon of a man but other than that, I had nothing. What sucked the most was knowing that Royce was probably still attractive. Karma probably hadn’t hit him by having him wake up one morning as ugly as a rock. Hell, Royce probably found a way to bribe karma by shooting it somewhere else each time it was meant for him. He was persuasive and rich enough to do it. I sat with my elbows resting on the table as Anica continued to chip away her polish and as mamă finished her meat-filled meal. Once the plate was clean, both Anica and I stood up. Anica had people to text while I had a luggage case to unpack.

“It’s really cool you’re here.” Anica whispered, low enough for my ears only, as we walked up the steps. My luggage was already lugged up the stairs, thanks to my father. All I had to do was unpack.

I smiled. “I-I’m glad to be here.” I said between my teeth. It was actually half-true. I was glad to be home, but I would’ve been happier if home was somewhere out of Astoria.

“It’s so weird seeing you because, like, the last time I saw you I was seven and I can barely remember you. Wait, no I mean I can remember you, it’s just… it’s different. You know? I didn’t grow up with you or anything, really.” Her shoulders shrugged as she stopped in front of the guest room. “Your room is the room farthest down the hall.” She called, pointing her chipped-blue finger in the room’s direction.

“I know.” I laughed, playfully bumping into her with my shoulder as I passed. “It seems you forgot that I grew up in the house and that room you call ‘yours’ used to be mine.” I gave her a wink once I reached the outside of the room and a smile. She waved, also smile, and then went into her temporary-room for the night.

To my surprise, my mother was right. Some things were moved around, like the bed being pushed to the corner of the room farthest from the door and the drawer being pushed to the side of the widow instead of it being directly under, but other than that, the room was still the same. The walls were the same shade of lavender that I helped paint when I was twelve years old. Even the ceiling was still the same dark-sky-blue with sticky glow in the dark stars that I placed two days after the walls were painted. Adrian helped place the stars by the window and even painted a green leaf toward the bottom of the wall near the closet. It was still there. Nothing changed. I walked around the room a little, relieving some of the good memories I had that consisted of me singing old Britney Spears and Backstreet boys songs into my hairbrush or giving myself full make-overs using my mother’s make up.

I grabbed out a pair of black pants and a green shirt that I had gotten from school for helping out at an Earth Day booth two years ago. I was a devoted member of the ecology club before Law school began to consume a majority of my school time. Ecology club was where I met a friend of mine, Dottie. Dottie is a tall girl who reminds me of a modern-day hippy with her bohemian-styled dresses, her long dirty blond hair always tied back into a braid, and her feather jewelry that she never goes out without.

Not every single thing was put away from my bag, but a good chunk of it was. Things that I knew I would use and need were placed in the closet, on the drawer, or left on the vanity for me to find easily. It had been a long time since I slept in pants. Back home in Texas I would always sleep in a pair of running shorts and a T-shirt. Even during winter I would sport some shorts. I actually forgot how chilly nights in Oregon were. I snuggled up under the warm covers and closed my eyes. The day wasn’t nearly as bad as I braced myself for it to be, but the week was still young and I had five more days to go. What are the odds of bumping into someone from high school? Pretty damn high, actually.