Short Story of a Nerd, Wang Jing

         Burping, I raised my upper body from the hard, wooden bed. Or more precisely, I awoke from by burp. I slowly opened my eyelids. A huge, self-made poster of Shakespeare on the ceiling came into view. I payed my tribute by reciting my favorite line, “We know what we are, but know not what we may be.”

         I got out of bed, looked at the clock to check whether it was 6am(it was), and started packing. Mom had already gone to work, so I made myself- or flung into the oven - some jiaozi(ground meat or vegetable filling wrapped into a thinly rolled piece of dough), devoured them quickly, and set out to school.

        I live in a Chinese town. My house is built on a precipice that faces the ocean;the other 3 sides fall on a straggle of  small, rather filthy houses, set apart by criss-cross of walls. Mom and dad had originally planned to send me to a local Chinese school, but I had strongly insisted to attend an American school that was an hour walk away from my home. Part of it, of course, was because I desperately wanted to learn English from a more natural environment. Part of it, although I had never disclosed this secret to anyone, was because of the girls. Oddly, I am extremely enamored by brown hair of girls in my age. The most intricate jewels pale in comparison to the myriad hues of brown hair, ranging from chocolate, dark brown to light, radiant brown as that of a wild horse’s man. I’m afraid to admit that my hobby is to collect hair that fall out from girls of brown hair. I won’t go far as to elaborate on how I collect them.

         Flipping over cards of SAT words, I followed a series of narrow paths for a while to enter an American town, glad to extricate myself from the Chinese smell. When I got to school and entered the classroom, I was utterly shocked. Amber was already there, before me. She raised her head when I entered the classroom. With a casual look that seemed to be a part of her, following her everywhere in every situation, she curtly said, “Hi”. Then she dropped her head again, and vigorously went on to what she was doing, which I never got to find out for my shock. A mix of emotions swirled inside my head; so strong and tangled the emotions were, that I stood there for a few seconds to overcome them. First, I took great umbrage at myself for not being the first to arrive at class. That I probably had left home earlier than her, considering the hour-long walk, failed to act as solace. Second, I was impressed by her eagerness to study, which I had never regarded as particular. Third, I was overwhelmed by joy that at least from that moment, I wasn’t the only nerd in class - I instantly created an empathy for her. Lastly, and most importantly, I was entranced by her amazingly beautiful, brown hair. The velvety threads of silk shone in the bright morning light the windows let in.

         Gggghfffff!

         Oh, I cursed my habit of burping. Every un-nerdy and unscholarly instinct left inside me desperately told me that this might be the first and last chance to befriend a girl. What’s more, she wasn’t any girl; I had always dreamt of her and had spent time with her(it was either her or Shakespeare) in my fantasies. 

         Gggghfffff!

         This time, she let out a small giggle. Was she laughing at me, or was she genuinely amused? It was no time to entrap myself in pessimistic thoughts. Casually, I walked to my desk, flung down my bag on the desk, deliberately making a loud noise, and glanced to see whether Amber was looking. To my surprise, she was.

         Gggghfffff!

         She giggled again. Activating every cell of confidence inside me, I asked, “Why did you come so early?”

         “My mom got really frustrated with my mid-term score, so she forced me,” she said, with a grimace.

         Without allowing any time to respond, she added, “By the way, isn’t it the first time I’m talking to you?”

         “Yeah, I’m the problem. I’m afraid of talking to girls. Actually, this is the first time I’m talking to any girl in this class.”

         Then, for some reason, I blurted out, “So think of it as an honor.” Immediately, I felt hot blood rushing to my face. Why in the world did I say that? Out of embarrassment, I let out a burp.

         Gggghfffff!         

         This time, she chuckled, making an effort to be polite.

         “I certainly will. Um, is that a habit?” 
     “Yeah, it gets worse when I get nervous.”

         “Oh, so you are nervous. I was quite surprised when you talked to me first,” she said, with a tone of mild amusement.

         “Awfully, to be honest,” I admitted.

         But at the same time, I was quickly gaining composure by the fact that, astonishingly, I was having a normal conversation with a girl, especially a brunette. The conversation went on for a while, until Amber’s friend came in and interrupted. The conversation was nothing of particularly enthralling, but it was probably the most magical moment in my life. After school, I quietly sneaked up on her and asked, “Coming early again tomorrow?”

         She nodded, with a faint smile. I awkwardly waved my right hand, and too embarrassed to converse with her publicly, turned my back before she even waved her hand back.

            On my way back home,  I savored every minute of the walk; the world suddenly seemed so beautiful. When I finally got home, I jumped on my bed. Looking at Shakespeare, I said, “Oh, Amber, my Juliet”