A skinny boy with glasses and freckles—such a nerd stereotype to be honest—drops something from his clenched fist. The thin silver slice through the silent air is hardly visible from where I stand on the other side of the room, but once it clanks quietly to the table I realize exactly what it is.

A pin.

The ironic situation of changing an expression into a reality is quite infuriating, and I can't refrain from whipping my head to face the deer in the headlights as he blinks innocently at the silent room.

Such a weirdo.

"What kind of leg-pulling prank are you pulling, Justin?" I ask, turning back to the boy in question.

He looks down at his hand and purses his lips, murmuring, "It's not a prank."

As silence falls again upon the room, I notice the nerd digging in his pocket for something. As I see what he pulls out, I leap forward and snatch it away from him. "You completed your experiment, nerd. Let go."

Ｅｘｐｅｒｉｍｅｎｔ

𝐀 𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡, 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐡𝐲𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬, 𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐜𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝.

Ｅｘｐｅｒｉｍｅｎｔ

𝐀 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞

The boy's lips set in a straight line as he fights me for the pin. "No!" he exclaims. "I must gather more data for it to be compatible!"

"Just talk like a normal child!"

"I am!"

"No, you're not!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

Suddenly we both fall back as the pin slips from both of our fingers and flies into the air. He screams and leaps forward, just catching it before it falls to the ground.

"You could have continued your experiment if it fell to the ground," I say irritably. "It's not like it's made of glass or something."

"But it's my last one," the nerd replies, wrapping his fingers around the pin. I see a drop of red flow from his palm, but he doesn't appear to notice.

Deciding to let the situation go, I rise to my feet and walk over to Justin's desk. Suddenly I slam my hand down on the table. He screams and falls back, his chair following with him.

"Why are you so terrified, redhead?" I question, setting my hands on my hips as I loom above him. "You're acting like we just caught you robbing an old lady while she crosses the road."

"No, I swear! I—I—helped Mrs. Collins! That's it!"

"Who in the arctic plains of Antarctica is Mrs. Collins?"

"The old lady crossing the road," he murmurs bashfully.

"Stop trying to change the topic," I say. I grab the sides of his chair and pull it upright. Surprised at how terribly light he is, I use a bit too much force and he hits his nose on the table.

As he rubs his bruised nose, he replies, "You're the one who brought it up first."

"Let's cut the small talk," Lucas interrupts, slamming his hand next to mine and efficiently causing Justin to fall backward again with a scream.

"These dudes are hardcore. They're what we call 'demons' in the quietest parts of the library. They are book nerds' worst fear," a boy whispers to his friend towards the back of the room.

"How can I be afraid of myself!?" I exclaim, my ears nearly tooting steam as I whip to face the boy.

"You're not worthy to be called a book worm," he replies nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders.

"I don't care what I'm worthy of and what I'm not," I retort, crossing my arms.

Lucas grabs the top of my head and turns it to face him. "Can we focus?"

My face burns with anger and embarrassment as I nod.

———————

Turns out Justin had joined the writing club a few years back on the recommendation of his aunt, who is a therapist and part-time writer. At the time he was having weird dreams that left questions in his head that could only be solved by his own imagination. Each inspiring dream would flood thoughts into his mind that couldn't possibly fit in their small home inside Justin's brain but still had to go somewhere. Why he kept it all a secret is beyond me. It's honestly the coolest thing I know about him.

"I can't believe you kept this from me, Justin," Lucas sniffs as tears swarm in his brown eyes and allowed the light to reflect gold off them. "I thought we were friends!"

Yeah, Lucas didn't take this new revelation as well as I did.

To be fair, it's probably pretty weird to know that your best friend has been keeping something major like this from you for years. Not that I would know anything about bro relationships. I'm pretty sure they have a whole different bro language. It's called the bro code. Totally off-topic though—

"I tried telling you so many times but..." Justin's voice trailed off. "I..."

"Wow, yes, the feeling of betrayal," I interject. "We know, it's painful, I'm cruel, and I don't care. But life is still good, you guys are still friends, and the world is still in the right place in space. Can we focus on the real problem on hand?"

"What's that?" Lucas and Justin question together. They quickly turn to each other and exclaim, "Jinx! One million dollars!" They gasp together. "I don't have a million dollars!" They lean toward each other. "Take out a loan." They lean away again and hold their hands to their chests. "I'm not old enough!"

I grab both of their shirts and push them against opposite bookshelves. "Your synchronization is disturbing. Don't you want to know what the real problem is?"

When they just stare and don't reply, I continue, "Our meme battle. We never finished it."

"Meme battle?" they both ask blankly.

"Your forgetfulness is completely beyond me." I shake my head and release the two from the bookshelves. "We have an audience. Let's battle it off. Right here, right now."