Chapter 1
“Mike, PAY ATTENTION!” The science teacher yelled. I jumped out of my seat, almost falling off my chair. My book fell on the floor with an audible thump. Some of my classmates snickered.
One must think that I am Mike. But, in fact, I am not.
Mr. Hall looked at me apologetically. “Sorry, Ace,” he said. He turned to Mike two columns to the left. “As for you,” he said sternly. “The Dean’s office, now.”
Mike, who was throwing rubber bands at random students a few seconds before, rose without a word and headed out the door. This is a routine procedure for him.
I forced myself not to scream. Mike Collen is one of the worst kids in school. If he ever gets in trouble, he takes several others with him. I picked the book up from the floor, slammed it on my desk, and started reading, pointedly ignoring the teacher.
With a resigned look, he went back to teaching. “As I was saying, only the help of synthetic leaves keep the Ozone layer from dissolving until we can replenish the oxygen in our atmosphere…”
What a complete bore. As if we don’t already know what a synthetic leaf is. They might as well try to teach us the function of a solar panel.
I must come as something of a puzzlement to the teachers. I mean in school you have those really smart kids that follows all the rules, the not-so-smart kids that follows all the rules, and the kids that just don’t care about neither school nor education. Me, I’m known as “the smart kid” but it seems to annoy my teachers more than it impressed them. I barely pay attention in class, but if any of my teachers have complaints they can take the issue to my perfect score averages. And so the teachers can’t say anything, and I spend most of my time ignoring them completely. I’m as good as the smart kids, as rebellious as the bad kids, and the teachers don’t know what to do about it. Well, that’s their problem, I thought savagely, still furious from being laughed at.
I didn’t think my life could get any more sucky. But apparently fate was out to get me. I remember fifth grade, watching girls gossiping and boys fighting, thinking I wasn’t cut out for this. I was right.
Fifth grade passed. So did sixth. The world of preteens and teenagers are a truly horrifying place. No matter how crazy they are, I was determined to be their complete opposite. I never got a boyfriend, never wore makeup or short shorts. Not that it was hard, but the constant nagging from my friends to go out there and live life never stopped. Go to the movies. Fine. Get social media. Fine. Get a boyfriend. Absolutely not. Even if I would consider the notion, there is no one in or outside my school who slightly understands me.
“All you do is read,” My friend Cleo complained.
“Yes,” I said. “Because I like it.”
And that, apparently, is something no one in Franklin Junior High understood. None of my friends understood why I spend every single weekend and lunch period hanging out in the library reading books. Sometimes I feel bad for leaving them, but I can’t help it. It’s an addiction, and I don’t mean that in a good way at all. When I see the latest book of my favorite series, I get ridiculously excited: my cheeks get warm, my heart starts to race, and I get a serious case of the giggles. In their terminology, my friends call this a “problem.”
“She’s crazy,” my friend Kiara said.
“Yep.” Cleo agreed.
And that was that.
After a while, they simply gave up. By the end of sixth grade, 5 things were known about a certain Jocelyn Everly. 1) She’s the smartest student in 7th grade. 2) She has a very short temper. 3) Do not call her short. 4) Never call her Jocelyn. 5) Woe betide those who messes with her books.
I was more than okay with this. That way no one bothered me about my favorite celebrities (I don’t have any). No one asked me out (Cleo believes they’re too scared). Finally I had peace. And of course it didn’t last. Not for long anyway.
It was the second week of 7th grade. I was yelling at a super annoying kid named Jonathan for hiding my book when Mr. Collins the homeroom teacher announced, “Hey guys. This is Luke our new student. He’s a transfer student so be nice and show him around ok.”
Whatever, I thought with barely a glance. The new kid wore glasses and was wearing a yellow T-shirt and jeans with black Nike sneakers. Long black hair that almost reaches his brown eyes. Nothing unusual. A perfectly ordinary middle school kid. I went back to threatening to behead Jonathan.
