How To Date A Christian Dork: A Helpful Handbook For The Datingly Impaired.

Tip 4: Don't Blackmail The Dork

Tip 4: Don't Blackmail The Dork

The hallway was filled with murmurs as Brett walked down it three days after the 'incident.' His cuts had started to heal. Surprisingly enough, his face had gotten away with minimal damage, and his arms and legs he cover with long-sleeved shirts and jeans.

Two sophomores were chatting next to their lockers. I caught a snippet of their conversation as I passed by.

"I heard he was in a fight with a gang. They tried to beat him up, but he knocked them out!"

"I heard he saved a lady from being mugged, and got hurt himself. He's such a hero!" The two girls swooned, and I rolled my eyes.

Getting to my locker at last, I pulled out my Maths textbook. When I closed it, Val stood there, staring—make that glaring—at me.

"What did you do?" she asked menacingly.

"Me?" I opened my eyes wide, and threw in a few innocent blinks for good measure. "What are you accusing me of?"

"Quit the act, Kay, we both know you're the reason why Brett looks like he just came out of a boxing ring."

I squinted behind my black glasses. "That's actually one of the rumors floating around. Maybe you've got something solid here?"

"And maybe the whole world will hold hands and sing Kumbaya," she drawled. "It's not funny, Kay."

"Hey, no one's laughing here." Then I got defensive. "Why are you even accusing me of doing anything?"

"Because, my dear friend, as I was coming to see you, I heard Brett tell Tyler and Steven about a cat named Dusty. And you just happen to have a cat named Dusty."

"So the two felines have the same name. Big whoop."

"Kayla..."

"Why would you pin this on me, anyway?"

"Kayla..."

"I'm just saying, you have absolutely no proof. Zero. Zilch. None."

"Kayla Anne Marie Adams I--"

I never found out exactly what she was going to say, because the bell rang just then. "Well, what d'ya know? Gotta get to class!" I chirped nervously. "Don't want to be late!" I scurried down the hallway.

"This isn't over Kayla!" she yelled, earning a few stares from people still in the hallway. "You can't run away from me forever!"

"I sure can try," I muttered as I moved to class. And try I would. Val was not winning this match.

~|~|~

I love Maths. There is something about the way the pieces of the numeric puzzles just fit together smoothly and click into place so easily. Something about how straightforward the formulas are; no 'ifs', 'buts' or 'maybes' about it. It is so easy to determine what is right and what is wrong, unlike life.

It seemed like I was the only one who felt that way. Half of the class dozed off as the sun beat down mercilessly through the windows.

"And thus x is equal to three," concluded Mr Smart, who still faced the board. "Do you understand?" He turned round and let out a puff of air in frustration.

"Please get your heads off your desks. Maths time is not nap time, as much as you wish it to be."

More than half of the class stretched exaggeratedly, and I shook my head at their immaturity. Mr Smart looked up, as if petitioning to the Heavens for assistance.