Smart Girl

02.07.17

or when, for once, no one needs to recognize your intelligence.

daniel gorman was standing tall across the room, talking loudly and proudly to the group of minuscule girls who craned their necks just to see him.

i, on the other hand, was standing about as minuscule as them, talking not at all to no one. head level, nose stuffed with allergy-induced snot, throat sore as ever from the pollen and four hours straight of singing.

however, i was done with standing alone, so—in an act of someone other than myself—i crossed to daniel.

"hey, ilios!" he called toward me, referring to something in a game he played. overwatch, if i remember correctly.

"hey." i swear, the other girls scurried off not long after i arrived by daniel. "i feel like death."

"why is that?" it would be a miracle if i ever get to hear him use a contraction.

"i didn't sleep well, my brain has been so damn sick, and my back and abs hurt from gym yesterday. nothing seems to be on my side today!" i exclaimed.

the conversation which ensued wasn't eventful. he bad-mouthed the tenor section, failing to roast them—while they were experts in bashing his own bass sect. i talked to him about our geography test today, which he claimed he had failed. i mentioned my birthday, and he kindly offered early birthday wishes.

it was nice, talking to someone who didn't have a standard and expectation set for me. it was like being gifted with a brand new slate.