My girlfriend Tasha walked over to me.
       "Hey, Tom!" she said.
       "Hey, Tasha.
       "Could you walk me to class?" She batted her eyes.
       "Sure." Something in the back of my mind wanted me to say no, because I'd miss some of the review for tomorrow's Science test, but I kept that something at the back of my mind. Screw the science test.

       Once I dropped her off, I started heading to class. I probably only had one minute to walk a five minute walk upstairs and across the building, but still I walked slow. Who cares?

       I got to class a few minutes late. Mrs. Maurer looked up at me, but didn't say anything; she only looked down, shaking her head, and marked something on her clipboard. I was late two or three times a week, and sometimes I skipped most of class, so telling me that I had to be on time was a strategy long forgotten.

        Mrs. Maurer was a young teacher, unlike some, which were old and fat. At least I didn't have to cringe every time I looked at her.

Science passed in a blur. I wasn't paying attention, only thinking about basketball strategies; I had PE next period.

The only time I wasn't zoning off was when I was staring at Caroline. And Jack. And a few other kids - but it was those two especially. But darn, they were involved. Caroline looked like she had a hand cramp, but she was still writing at the speed of light. Jack was staring intently at the teacher, but what amazed me was... he was writing at the same time. We was only writing just a bit slower than Caroline. He only looked down every two lines or so to make sure he wasn't writing way off the lines. The way he was intensely looking at the teacher, he looked like he wanted to absorb every piece of information she spoke. Which he probably did.

After a few minutes staring at them, I decided I didn't really care about them. Why should I? They lived their nerd life, I lived my popular life. Why should I contaminate myself by staring at them?

My second semester elective for PE was basketball. My first semester was football. Today was the eighth day of the semester. It was a Tuesday.

       I walked to the basketball and started dribbling. I was getting ready to rule the court. I needed to do this; the more girls trying to talk to me, the better it is.

        As people started coming out, I surveyed my surroundings. There were a few girls on the stands; they probably skipped their electives to watch their boyfriends.

       Among the people coming in, I saw Jack. Why was he skipping class? I thought he was a nerd? Why would a nerd want to skip class to watch basketball?

       When we were about to start, Jack was still standing on the court. Why wasn't he getting off? He was disgracing the court with his presence.

       Finally the whistle blew. Finally, I realized. Jack was playing with us.

       Our teammate caught the ball and started dribbling. I was open on the left. He passed to me. Now was the time to show my skills.

       I ran down the court and dodged a few people. This was easy!

        But then Jack was there. He blocked me, with the help of someone else. I was forced to pass. To my surprise, Jack caught the ball. Ugh! I should have thrown it higher!

       Before I knew it, jack was halfway across the court. There wan only one person to stop him. But with ease, Jack avoided him and scores a two pointer.

       I stared, dumbfounded. The nerd just beat me. The nerd just BEAT me. How?

       My team lost, 35 to 43. Mainly because of Jack.

       I walked over to Jack.

       "Hey Jack." I called.
       He stopped abruptly and stood there for a second, then turned around. "What do you want? I'm almost late."
        "Exactly. Did you see how you just dominated the court there? Why do you care about school?"
        "It's better to try to be the best in everything." He said simply. And with that he turned around and left.
        I stood there, absorbing his words. Then I decided, why do I care? If he wants to be a nerd, let him.