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

Tip 13: Don't Lie to the Dork

Tip 13: Don't Lie to the Dork

"You punched him?"

I nodded, for what seemed like the millionth time. The principal, Mrs Johnson, refused to understand that I—Kayla Adams—had committed such an atrocious act of violence. Not just that, but I had landed the poor boy in the nurse's office with a broken nose. Apparently, I didn't know my own strength.

"I would like to fully understand the story. You assumed that Mr Hollister wanted to kiss you and in an act that you perceived to be self-defence, you punched him."

"That's the long and short of it, yes," I replied.

"Well...I really don't know what to make of this Kay—Miss Adams," she said. "You are a stellar student, with no past record of violence, at least, not as far as I can tell."

She sighed. "I'll let this one slide; call it erroneous judgement."

I let out a breath I didn't even know I had been holding.

"But, for goodness' sake, Kayla, you cannot go around punching people as and when you feel like it!" she exclaimed, removing her pince-nez glasses, and rubbing the bridge of her nose wearily.

"Sorry Mrs Johnson, it won't happen again," I said meekly.

"I should hope not," she replied, looking back at her laptop screen. "According to what I have here, in the running for valedictorian, if you keep up this level of work. I would hate it if such progress were marred by a suspension because of unnecessary violence."

The warning was clear, but all I could focus on was the fact that she had said 'in the running for valedictorian'.

"In the running?" I asked, stunned. To the best of my knowledge, I was the only student in our year who had a 4.0 GPA. I didn't mean to be conceited, but who else in the school could possibly be in any kind of position to compete with me? "Who is in the position to be valedictorian?"

Before she could tell me, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," she said, and a head appeared through the crack in the door.

"Mrs Johnson, we have an issue in room 202," said the frantic secretary. "We need you there immediately."

The principal looked at her secretary, Miss Pierce, with her glasses lying askew on her nose, and her hair in a mess.

"Miss Adams, you are excused. I do hope the next time I see you in my office, it will be to celebrate your achievements, not to berate you over your misdemeanours. I advise you go and see Mr Hollister and apologise as soon as possible. " Before I could even reply, she had risen from her seat and was quickly following her secretary to room 202.

I got up and made to leave—then froze. Mrs Johnson had mentioned something about me being in the running for valedictorian—but I had a 4.0, and I didn't know of anyone else in the school who did. I would have thought it was a given. She was in such a hurry that she hadn't shut down her computer. Even though it wasn't explicitly stated in the rule book, I knew it was illegal to go through your principal's computer, but the urge to snoop was overwhelming—and eventually won out.

I opened the junior's list of grades—and my eyes could not have opened any wider when I saw whose name was at the top of the list.

~|~|~

"Good afternoon, Flora," I said, greeting the nurse on duty. She smiled back at me, and tucked a lock of red hair behind her ear.

"Nice to see you, Kayla...but don't you have a class right now?" she asked.

"I'm here to see Brett."

"Ah," she nodded, understanding. "He's in there—" she pointed to a small room behind her "—getting some ice for his eye."

"Thanks, Flora. Don't worry, I'll be out of your hair soon," I smiled, as I opened the door.

"Nonsense!" she exclaimed. "I miss having you work here."

In my sophomore year, I had worked in the nurse's office during my free period on Mondays and Wednesday. Since not many people passed by, Flora and I would sometimes just sit and chat or do the craziest things together—sing-offs, dance-offs or crazy costume parties. In my opinion, we had the coolest nurse in the world.

"I miss being here too. But I will try my best to pass by as often as possible." I smiled and slipped behind the door into the room where Brett had his head in the deep freezer. I gasped as he turned around. It hadn't even been an hour, but the skin around his left eye had stretched, and was quickly changing colour.

"Oh my gosh," I whispered. "Brett, I am so sorry!"

"It's no big deal," he laughed, pressing the icepack to his eye. "I've had worse."

"Still...this was my fault. I jumped to conclusions too quickly. Let me help." Walking up to him before he could answer, I took the ice pack and gently pressed it to his eye. He winced, and guilt coursed through my veins.

We walked out, and sat on one of the beds in the sick bay. Flora tried her best to pretend that she was reading a magazine, but I couldn't miss the way her eyes followed our every move.

"Well, when I thought of getting you onto my bed, I certainly didn't think of it this way," Brett murmured. I choked on air, and Flora spluttered, quickly covering her face with the magazine in an attempt to remain inconspicuous.

"W-what?" I gasped.

"I'm kidding," Brett laughed, then grew sombre. "All my life I've been surrounded by amazing women—Aunt Liza, my aunts, my mom...I've learnt to respect them too much to view them as merely sexual objects. The women I know are all so amazing; I feel that I have to respect all girls—even if sometimes they don't respect themselves."

"Oh. Wow. That's...different. That's amazing."

"Yeah." He shrugs. "I'm sorry that you thought I was going to kiss you. I would never do that without your consent. I know you don't think much of me, and that does hurt a little, but if there's one thing I do want to make very clear, it's that I know that everyone has boundaries. And that I do try my best to respect them.

"Brett I—"

"You don't have to say anything. Don't you have a class to get to?"

"Mr Smart. He'll understand."

"I don't think I've ever seen you skip a class before. And you're doing it because of little ole me....I'm touched."

I roll my eyes and jokingly punch his arm—then remember the real reason why I'm here.

"Brett...what's your grade point average?" I ask casually.

He frowns, and his eyebrows furrow. "Why do you want to know?"

"Just asking." I shrug.

"I'd rather not say."

"Why is that?" I ask, looking at him.

"How is that any of your business?"

"It's my business because, Brett Evans Hollister, as it stands right now, you are a stellar student. You have a perfect GPA, and you could very well be the class valedictorian. So my question to you is this—why on earth would you lie about this?"

"I...I can explain."

Where have I been? In the deep dark jungle of University, swamped with assignments, essays and extracurricular activities. I am so so sorry I didn't update earlier, I really haven't had time to breathe. The next part will be up as soon as possible, though, I can't promise when because end of semester papers are looming over me.

See you all soon (I hope!),

Crazyforchrist.

BTW, If any of you is looking for Christian music to listen to, you could check out Riley Clemmons (esp. Broken Prayers and You First) and Tauren Wells. I love their music.