Unorthodox (BOOK 1)

Chapter 22

~Vesper~

"I'm so BOORRED!!"

"Then do your homework."

"But I don't wanna!"

"Do you have any other choice? We're locked in."

Silence. Circe dramatically flops backward from her books. Maybe she forgot, or just underestimated the distance from her head to the pallets of the bed. Either way, a loud whack follows and frowning, she rubs the back of her head vigorously and repeats her position to a different side of the bed. Her head hangs off the side of the it and Latte mimicks her, lying on her stomach. Circe talks again.

"Can't we just put all the answers as 42?"

"Some of the questions are Algebra, Circe."

"Then let's just put 'x' next to them!" Talon sighs when he hears that. "Algebra was made by the devil."

"And his spawns teach it to us at school."

"Can you two please be quiet?" We look at MB. "I am close to figuring out the answer to number twelve!"

I lean forward, peeping into MB's textbook, even though it is upside down. "Oh that?!" I sit back, "The answer is 42."

"Sure it is."

"I'm serious!"

Picking up his calculator (and somehow his eyes on me), he types in to it to check. I smirk to myself when I see his shocked face. "She's right," he whispers unbelievingly.

"Seriously?" Talon takes the calculator from him and look back and forth at it wide- eyed. "How did you do that."

"I didn't want to tell you... but I'm a genius."

If their mouths hung any lower, kissing the floor could be done easily. I go on. "My IQ score is a remarkable 195, just surpassing Newton's by approximately 5. My mom discovered it when she caught me in the study reading the encyclopedia for 'Z'. I was just two years old."

"I suddenly feel scared," MB says looking even paler than possible.

"Well, I don't," Circe says indignantly. She  lies on her stomach and stares at me. "How come you don't say all those big words and stuff?"

"I should think geniuses know that if they speak with all the complicated words they know, they wouldn't be understood," I answer thoughtfully, "They know that they are a rarity in the majority of the population and they must speak in a way that everyone can understand. For example, if I say : 'Circe is a nefelibata plagued with sehnsucht, who waits for trouvaille', would you understand me?

"Nefewhat?" MB says puzzled.

"What did she call me?", Circe asks turning to Talon.

"I think she insulted you," Talon responds.

"WHAT!, " Circe gives me a a glare, "HOW COULD YOU! I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS! WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT? I FEEL VERY-"

MB looks to Talon. "What is trouvaille?"

"I don't have a clue. Let's Google it."

"And that is why I don't say big words," I mutter sorrowfully to myself. Circe is still sputtering when I hear the attic stairs open. Up comes Darci with a plate of cookies and a warm smile. "How are thin-"

"GO BACK DEMON FROM THE UNDERWORLD!" cries Circe, pointing a shaking finger at her," LEAVE US! YOU ARE NEVER WELCOME AT THE SURFACE! TORMENT US NO LONGER!... oh, and leave the cookies behind."

Darci rolls her eyes as if used to being called a demon and sets down the platter of cookies on Circe's dresser. "You know I had to! Your teacher called today saying she is missing assignments from you. Locking you up here was the only way I could do it!"