From the desk of Charles M. Hanson

A second peek into the novel I'm currently struggling with (visit An Experiment from April to see the prologue) . Blog, meet Charlie. Charlie, meet Blog Followers. Hope everyone gets along. Oh, and for those with delicate sensitivities, let me just apologize in advance. Charlie likes certain unsavory words. What can I say? At least he's honest.

I am the ruler of the nerds. King of the geeks. God of dorks. Czar of the dweebs. Caesar Charles Mortimer Hanson. To normal teenagers, I’m sure all of this seems like a death sentence. But normal teenagers are few and far between at my high school. Here the geeks have inherited the earth. At the Brighton School of Mathematics and Science, where football is a study in statistics and cheerleading a practice of physics and geometric principals, the teenage norms are defined by different standards. Here, I am revered for my quick aptitude in quantum physics and discrete mathematics. Cool is all a matter of perspective.

Greta is always saying that. “It’s all about perspective, Chuck. You’re too quick to assume the world looks the same to everyone,” she says.

“For example,” Theo adds, “when most people look at you they just see a jackass, but to me you look more like an insufferable cheesedick.”

“NOT helpful,” mutters Greta.

And these are my friends.

I nod and roll my eyes and change the subject.

Greta’s right though. I usually forget to pull the old perspective tool out of the toolbox until it is way too late, like shit has hit the fan late. An entire wastewater plant full of shit spraying around in every direction, splattering everywhere and stinking up the joint kind of late. Then, only then, do I look around and think, Ohhhh, how did I miss that? It runs in my family, limited perspective.

I’d be destroyed at any other high school. Varsity letters would be handed out for the sport of KickCharliesAss. My underwear would fly daily from the flagpole and girls would laugh at me as they stuffed me into lockers. And that’s how I saw life. Everyone else: super cool. Charlie: super dork. I filtered my existence through that reality, even though there are no classic jocks at my high school. Mathletes don’t count. They think they do, but they don’t. So it was a surprise to me when I was given a kingdom and expected to know what to do with it.

I had no idea I was destined to become the King of Geeks. I always just figured no one noticed me, probably because I took very little notice of anyone but myself. I followed my narrow little path just knowing it would take me exactly where I wanted to go (MIT baby!). And I liked life that way. Actually, when I stop to consider it, it is absolutely surprising I even had two

friends. I didn’t really have much use for popularity and people.

So it took the new, young, I’m-only-vaguely-aware-that-every-boy-in-the-school-is-having-wet-dreams-about-me teacher to point out this role I was taking on. Even then I didn’t listen. I didn’t want to listen because who listens to the English teacher in a school full of math and science nerds? No one. That’s who. Because, for all her coolness, she wants us to read poetry and write essays about our feelings and crap like that. And we don’t do that sort of thing here. We don’t go in for that kind of junk. Math and science. It’s right there in the title of the school.

For me numbers are always around, hanging in midair, rising to the surface, counting quietly in the corner of my mind like a soothing stream of numbers. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wished all of the questions could be answered with numbers. Like my mom constantly asking if I’ve done my chores. Answer: 43. Or my sister wondering have I seen her favorite bookmark. Answer: 235.759. Greta wondering if we can get out of the comic store in less than two hours. Answer: - 678. But it doesn’t work that way. You need words to answer these questions, and words, I’ve learned, are tricky little bastards. They can mean more than you think.

Believe me, nothing good can come from studying words. This is why, as the newly instated Ruler of the Nerds, it is my duty to spearhead the attack against the new English teacher. I’ll be calling on the resources of my generals, Greta Goddess of Math and Theo Guru of Physics, but in the end, I want the victory to be mine. I’d like to leave my mark on my school. My legacy.

Seniors Rule.