What happens when someone finally sees Jemma Summers for what she truly is? And will that person know how to react? Or will he turn out to be just like the rest of them; insensitive and stupid? If ...
"No, I do not know the answer."
The jerkwads at school are always doing this, "testing" my knowledge. They would ask stupid questions that have no answer, and then keep repeating "Do yo know the answer? Well, do you?" seriously these people acted like fourth graders. I always thought that by at least sophmore year, things might be different, that maybe i wouldn't be set apart as a pestilential nerd. Just because I'm one of the few people at Bridgeview High who pay attention to whatever "thrilling" artifact Mrs.Pewter had to present to us in bio, or actually receive grades higher than a C+ consistently, people expect me to know everything.
This time I turned around. Usually even the morons who antagonize me have some idea when to stop, or that I'm actually serious that no, I actually don't know the answer, and that yes i find you to be a complete idiot and that i would love it if you left me alone. So when this guy (or girl, I thought) continued to bug me, I was, to say the least surprised.
It's not like I wasn't smart, or anything. Actually, quite the contrary. I get mostly A's on my report card, with only the occasional B. "It keeps you humble." My mom always says. Of course I knew she didn't really mean it. She wanted me to do the best that was possible. I didn't mind about getting Bs as long as there weren't any Cs or anything. I wouldn't be happy with that. It isn't like I'm perfect or like I know the answer to every question. The fact was I didn't know the answer to hardly any, and I' not perfect. I'm just 16 year-old Jemma Summers.
What surprises me the most, however, was that some people actually envied me. They were all like, oh, you're so lucky and gosh, it would be great not to worry about grades. They seemed to think that everything came easy for me, as if I could just while away my time at home without worrying about tests, or teachers, or homework.
This was extremely funny to me, because my life isn't something to be envied. When I went home I had to give my mother a complete review of everything I said and did that day, and this wasn't like happy suburban mother curiosity, "How was your math test honey?" those types of questions were sorta rhetorical, sorta not. You weren't expected to give an exact answer, just good, or bad. No regular moms expected their daughter to say "Well, actually, I had a little trouble with questions 28 and 34. 28 was too easy, 94a = 10/12 I think I remember having that question in like seventh grade. And 34 was just out there, I can't exactly remember what it was, but I don't remember studying it!" However, this was the response that my mom expected from me. After my interrogation, I would be confined to my room for an hour to an hour and a half depending on the amount of homework that had been given to me. Much of this time was spent brooding over the events before; the interrogation usually didn't go well. Not long after, I was called down to my room for dinner, usually something heart healthy and never, ever, take-out. The rest of the night I would spend in my room or working.
Thankfully, most nights (and weekends) I spent working. Yah, I know, who likes working that much? Well, I work the cafÃ© at Barnes&Noble, and if you were me, work would be your favorite too. It's not just about the fact that I wasn't under my mother's constant pressure. No one there could boss me around, except for my boss, and well, Liz wasn't the type of boss who would do that. Just being there, with all the books and warmth and quietness was proof enough that some things were right in the world.
The rest of my life though, was proof that stereotypes existed in a very big way where I lived. Many can't imagine anything I could possibly want after everything I have. It's not that I'm spoiled or ungrateful about being smart, it's just that most people don't know anything about me, and how hard it was to get where I am. The fact is I didn't choose to be smart. My mom did. If I had had a choice I would have chosen so much more. Friendship. Security. Heck, i'd even take band geek status. It seems as though people see me as being sort of stuck up and unapproachable. What I hate most about being smart is the fact that everyone judges. No one looks past their initial impression, past my brains. They look at me and said, no way, she's too smart for me. That's why I only have one real, true friend- or at least that's what i thought.
"Julia! You said that?"
"Calm down Jem, I was just playing!"
"Gosh I thought you were one of the many jerkwads who go here. Sorry,"
"Yah well sorry isn't good enough! You're pathetic!"
"SORRY! I thought you were my friend Julia Becker; I've mistaken her for a jerkwad! I'll just be on my way." We often pretended to be in big fights since we get along so well. I picked up my book bag and started to walk away in the opposite direction until Julia caught up with me, laughing.
"So what are you doing Friday? Let me guess, late shift at B&N?"
"You bet! My mom's watering all of the plants and planting experimental seeds. My mom and my house will be dripping with water." My mom was a florist during the day and a crazed gardener by night.
"Oh, well maybe I can drop by the B&N when your shift ends and we can catch a late movie. Pangaea Unites has a showing at 11:45."
"Sounds great! See ya then." And with that, Julia walked off to her next class, Bio, and I made my way to math where I could sit and listen to gorgeous Mr. Clarke ramble on about our next algebra test.
But as I walked to math, the one thing I thought about was how lucky I was to have a friend like Julia, who would keep me busy, because without her, I would very lonely and very, very, bored.
A/N Hope you liked it!! This is just a prologue, it get's much better, so keep reading. Please review!