The Jock, The Nerd and The Geek

3

Paris Holmes woke up with his leg burning like someone had just set it on fire.

Cursing, he sat up on his bed, clutching the stupid thing before crawling off it and waking to his wardrobe, opening the drawers.

He was quite sure that he hadn't broken his bone and that this was a sprain, but the way it was currently hurting made him want to reconsider his diagnosis.

Finding a compression bandage in the third drawer, he took it out and sat on his chair, raising his now bruising leg.

Paris winced at the way it was beginning to have a purple tint to it and it definitely was looking worse than yesterday but he knew him going to a hospital would risk his Father finding out and the man would do anything to make sure he never held a basketball in his hand again.

Now biting hard on the handle of his hair brush, he began to wrap the bandage around his calf tight, but not too much, grunting as the pain made sweat form over his forehead before he finished and used a clip fastener to keep it in place.

Flexing his leg now, Paris let out a sigh of relief. He could walk without a limp now, thank God. Perhaps, he'd even be lucky and the pain would be gone by the end of table.

Thirty minutes after he was done with cleaning up, he walked out of his room wearing his Wystwood sports jacket with black pants then walked into the dining hall finding a maid who was serving food on the table.

Paris sat, his eyes scanning it and realizing that it was only set for two. "Where is Mom's?"

The girl kept her face to the floor. "Your Father requested that I take her food to her room as she's sick."

Sick - Drugged so she couldn't leave the rooms during his meetings.

Anger flowed through his body at the thought but before he could stand to go check on her, his Father appeared. "There would be no need to do so, Son. You're already late for school and I wouldn't want you getting sick as well."

In other words, Paris would be grounded for the day.

He felt his hand clench into a fist as he watched Sebastian Holmes sit on the far end of the table, opening the button of his suit and settling his newspaper on the table and delving into his food.

Father and Son entered their usual bout of silence as they both ate before Paris stood and his Father spoke without looking up. "Be back in time for dinner."

He didn't answer, because he knew Sebastian wasn't asking. Instead he walked out of the hall to the garage and took out the key to his purple lamborghini, opening the doors and sliding in.

As Paris closed the doors, he let out another sigh put his head on the car rest as he tried to mentally prepare himself for what was coming next, which literally was picking up the people he called friends from their houses.

Why did he have to prepare? It was easy. They were all morons. Stupid to a fault. Having conversations with them, hurt. Talking to them, seeing them even, hurt, and what hurt most, was the fact he had to pretend he was stupid as well.

And Paris Holmes was definitely not stupid.

Once upon a time, he had been bullied in middle school and his first year of highschool for how smart he was. It wasn't exactly a story he told anyone considering he made his Family move entirely for his sophomore year, but he had figured out how school worked.

If you wanted to be put in the highest hierarchy, be stupid, act the way they expect. And most especially, never let out the fact you're smart.

Around them, he had to dumb down constantly which was just annoying as hell because they always liked to flock around him like flies, and his grades —