Chemistry

Sweats beaded across his forehead, his wire-rimmed glasses sliding down his thick beak-like nose. With a shaky hand he wiped at his brow and nervously slid his glasses back in place. With the other hand he tugged at the collar of his shirt, the thin material clung to his thin frame. It was his favorite shirt, one of Spock in his most memorable expression. The real Spock, not the one Zachary Quinto tried to be though he couldn’t deny he played a good role.

But no one could replace the real Spock.

But that didn’t matter now, he almost didn’t care if his favorite shirt was ruined in the process of whatever it was he was doing. In fact as Leslie Morter watched him with a sort of wired interest, she could not decipher what he was doing at all. The rest of the chemistry class was pouring a blue neon liquid into a beaker, watching intently so as not to pass the meniscus. But he was doing nothing of the sort.

Where had he even gotten all of that material? Where had he gotten that bubbling liquid? She almost wanted to ditch her partner and wander over to him and ask, but that wouldn’t be right. That would get her in a lot of trouble, especially since the boy sitting beside her was supposed to be her boyfriend. Or rather that was what everyone was expecting, soon enough.

But truth be told, Leslie had always been sickeningly interested in the boy in the back of the room, staring intently at now thick silver molten like liquid. Tracy Horner had always been made fun of. Maybe it was the fact that he had a girl’s name, or his last name was almost reminiscent of a very awesome sexual pun. Or maybe it was because he always was so damn skinny and while seemingly never paying attention always had the right answer.

Leslie was pretty positive everyone was jealous. She sure was. The way she struggled for those A’s, and the way she cried whenever she had a B and her parents banished her to her room with no dinner. She would give anything to find out his secret. Was there a secret microchip in his brain that delivered all of the answers? Was he telepathic?

It wouldn’t be hard to believe, not with Tracy Horner.

She sometimes thought that maybe they could be friends. If not out in the open maybe secretly. But she couldn’t bring herself to do that. Not because she was afraid anyone would find out but because she couldn’t do that to him. She wouldn’t subject anyone to a ‘secret friendship’. He didn’t deserve to feel ashamed of. Though she had an inkling that he might not care so much.

It might even be the case where he didn’t care about girls at all. She just hoped that if she ever dared to talk to him or maybe even flirt she wouldn’t be rejected for a boy. That would be a devastating blow and she didn’t know if she could handle that. Her chin was rested in her right palm as she listened to liquids sloshing together and the tinkering of glass against metal, but the voices were drowned out as she focused on Tracy.

He had the potential to be cute, really he did. He had thick dark hair, and it was very obvious he only washed it and let it alone. With close examination Leslie could see the natural waves in it and the almost sheen of highlights it gave off in the light. She pictured herself running her fingers through it. It was strange, having these thoughts about a boy who wasn’t even that attractive.

He had the potential, yes. But that was with a lot of fixing up. A wardrobe change, contacts, and some hair gel. But his facial features weren’t perfect. His cheeks were hollowed in from either malnutrition, or just awesome bone structure. His nose was curved too low over his upper lip giving him a sort of beak-like nose. He didn’t have acne though, in fact he had perfectly unblemished skin which was strange. You’d expect that to be one of the main imperfections of a geek.

Stereotypically, he was nearsighted. Or farsighted. Leslie didn’t know, but she knew that his vision was bad otherwise he wouldn’t be wearing those awful wire-rimmed glasses. She imagined him with a different pair. Thick black frames, ones that shadowed the thick glasses cramped beneath those awful, ugly ones. She thought that his lips were the best things about him. They were massive. Thick and lustrous, like Jonathan Rhys Meyers.

Just a few changes, or a lot. It might take a lot to make him her dream man, but in ways he already was. She didn’t know why but she just…wanted Tracy Horner.

Reviews

[gaurav roy]

I liked it, the beginning description is so detailed that I can almost see Horner, in the middle the story loses the flow, you could work in there but the story again catches the tempo in the end.

[smalltownsympathies]

very adolescent view, connection between males and females
well written, great descriptions and voice