A mousey, but mouthy nerd girl.

You are almost disappointed. You never thought you'd see the day, but you make your way to the bus stop, wait impatiently for a bully to step up to you, or even give you an excuse to step up to them, but everyone is apparently too eager for Spring Break to even notice you. You are so dejected that you don't notice that the bus has come and gone until it's just a yellow dot in the distance. You didn't even rate anyone hooting and hollering as it pulled away.

"Fucking perfect. If I'm not a walking target, I'm fucking invisible." You mutter to yourself kicking a rock that's heavier than it looks, sending it hurtling inches away and sending shooting pain up your leg. You hop up and down, filling in for your bully as you curse yourself out, "You stupid fucking nerd!" The pain finally recedes enough for you to stop jumping around and yelling like a jackass and you calm down a little, relieved that at least no one saw it.

"Who are you calling a stupid effing nerd, you stupid effing nerd?!" You turn to see a mousey looking brown haired girl in thick black rimmed coke bottle glasses and clothes that look like they were purchased at a costume shop in the 50's stupid fucking nerd section. Her button up shirt is too big for her and she is wearing the first pocket protector you've seen in real life. She is wearing a denim skirt that goes all the way down to her ankles and plain white sneakers. She makes you look like a fashion plate and she is almost half a head smaller than you, but even with her mane of frizzy hair covering her face, you can tell she is seething.

"I...I didn't...I was talking to uhm...myself." you aren't exactly doing a bang up job of standing up for yourself, especially considering you have to tilt your head down to look her in the...glasses. There is something about her intensity and the oddly conspicuous inconspicuous nature of her outfit. Why haven't you noticed her before? Or have you seen her a dozen times and looked right past her...the way people look right past you. You feel a pang of guilt and say, "I'm sorry. This is embarrassing. My name is..."

The nerdette laughs and you can see a sliver of a what might be a fetching smile behind her forest of hair. "I'm just joshing you, Elliot. But why are you telling me your name. We've known each other since kindergarten. Heck, I'm in your history class." Your mind races to place the bland blur of a girl. You think you'd remember someone corny enough to use the word 'joshing', but she has that air of anonymity that would make for a great bureaucrat...or axe murderer. "Come on, quit funnin' me. I waited behind to walk you to school since you seemed to be having a bad day and this is the thanks I get?"

She clenches her fists into tiny little balls of rage. You don't know whether to be more amused or alarmed, but she doesn't seem to know she's a 98 pound weakling soaking wet. You stammer, "Sorry, I'm bad with names. I'm better with..." you are about to say faces but know you would be making a lucky guess if she asked you what color eyes where hiding behind her opaque eyewear.

"Hmmm...I tell you what. I'll make it easy on you. I'll give you the first letter. If you get it right, I'll make you the happiest boy in school. If you get it wrong..." she trails off and a storm cloud appears above you, and though you tell yourself it's just a coincidence, you aren't entirely convinced. "It starts with an 'M'. Come on...you know it...right?"