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I used to sit behind a boy in 8th grade Algebra I. I'll just call him Evan. One might say he was quite the nerd; top in the class (though not in grades). He was in MathCounts as well; ranked #2. Well, #1 if you base all ranking on the Countdown round.

Poor Yingying (who, in my opinion, is #1) was such a nervous girl; I remember her giving presentations when there were just six people (including her, myself, and the teacher). She was always so nervous her hands shook, as well as whatever she was holding. Didn't have a chance against Evan, except with Geometry questions--his Kryptonite.

He used to stare at me a lot. It was a little disconcerting; he'd bend backwards over the cracked, raggedly yellow plastic chair and just stare with these gingery-warm hazel eyes.

"What?" I'd ask. No response. Just a straightening up to look at the front. Before long, though, he'd be staring again, irritatingly.

I guess he wasn't too bad-looking, though he had an oddly-inflected, slightly nasally voice, as well as a terrible fashion sense. Creamy skin, dappled with cinnamon freckles. Those eyes. A slightly childish, femininely delicate face. Long, thick brown lashes, soft mouth, and one of the best noses I've ever seen: just straight enough, not too big.

All in all, not too bad. I used to joke that he was the nerd playboy, as he asked out most of the girls in our grade.

Funny guy, that Evan.

A sheet of paper was thrown in disgust into the air. It flipped several times, floating in flat zigzags down to the street, where a car promptly slammed into it, taking it on a long, long trip...