Hey… First off, thanks for the nice reviews and such, and second, I don't know much about how dyslexics read or process words, so don't be offended/take much of this too seriously- Thanks : )

Study Hall, Monday

Georgiana Finkle

I guess if I survived the first week of school under the radar, I can get through the rest of the year unscathed. I'm actually surprised no one noticed me, since I've changed a whole lot since the end of last year. I cut off all of my honey-colored hair, which was down to my butt, stopped wearing the old-granny glasses I'd had for the last 15 years and traded them for more fashionable ones (as contacts just wouldn't do), and stopped dressing like a pre-pubescent boy, for those were the very attributes that gained me all the negative attention I never wanted.

I also changed my name… kinda. I go by George now, not that anyone besides teachers has asked.

The last thing that's saved me from the misery of sophomore year is the fact that I'm not actually ever really going to be a sophomore. I just… skipped, I guess you could say. Technically, I'm listed in the sophomore class roster, but most of my classes are junior, or eleventh grade material. As a result, my study hall is during a regularly scheduled junior slot, which doesn't bother me, since I don't need to worry about the people "my age" recognizing me.

I slipped into Goode's vast library, books of every type lining the walls and the scattered shelves and stacks around the large space. I found a table in a secluded corner, where there was already a tall boy with dark hair who had a book in his lap and papers messily spread all over the table. I didn't think someone could be so disorganized so early in the school year. He seemed to not be reading, and instead was fixated on a stained-glass window just to the right of the L-N section.

"Can I sit here?" I asked, and he snapped out of his trance, nodded, and picked up the book, obviously making an effort. I nodded, relieved that my new "table buddy" wasn't about to distract me. I got enough of that at home; there are just too many people there in order for ANYONE to focus. (My parents decided, about 8 years ago, to rekindle their romance. They've had a lot of fun since then…)

I took out my books, binders, and pencils from my bag and began to read the directions for my AP World History assignment when the chair of the boy in front of me screeched. Startled, I looked up, where he looked about as equally as surprised by the noise as I.

"Sorry," he mouthed, and with a crooked grin, went back to studying. I looked up for a moment, then tried to go back to studying.

Tap tap tap tap tap

I looked up, and he was tapping a pencil on the table as he read. That wasn't what distracted me in the long run, though.

He bit his lip, very Bella Swan style, and his brow was furrowed in concentration. His right hand moved, very slowly, I might add, while his eyes followed his pointer finger as it traced the words (presumably) along the page.

I pitied him. I did. Not reading seemed, to me, like one of the worst things ion the world. I loved reading. Ever since I was a baby, I've been reading, and I've loved it. For a week in third grade, I refused to go to school so I could read the entire Harry Potter series, which wasn't even complete at the time. I finished it in three days, but didn't go back Thursday or Friday so that I could re-read them.

The sight of this, to be honest, very attractive and probably not too smart kid struggling, made me sad. I wanted to help.

"Excuse me," I said, rapping on the table to gain his attention, "I notice that you seem to be having a bit of trouble." He gave me a sheepish smile.

"Yeah, I guess I am," he replied.

"Do you need help?" I tried to offer him assistance, and for a second, I thought he took it.

"Probably," he responded, and I began to shift my things, preparing to help him in whatever it is he was doing. Before I knew it, though, he was up and out of his seat, and as I watched, he wandered (seemingly) aimlessly around the library, and then he suddenly had a focus. He went up to a blonde girl seated across the room from my table and began talking to her while she tried to ignore him. He continued to pester the poor girl until she seemed to give in to his pleas, and she got up, following him as he carried her books (how chivalrous) to where I was.

I was a bit disappointed. It wasn't because I wouldn't get to tutor this good looking (albeit dumb) boy, although I wish I could've, but it was more that I liked being in control of my study-place atmosphere. There's a reason I skipped a grade. I'm good at being in control (as someone living with six younger siblings and deranged elderly people would be), and being in control of myself and my habits is my specialty.

Every morning I get up at 6:30 and take a fifteen minute shower. I eat oatmeal for breakfast then make five sandwiches; one for myself and four for the little ones in school. Then I go to the library, pick up a book for the day, and walk to the local coffee shop, Rhonda's Café, for a quick coffee before school. After school, I go home, do homework or study for precisely two hours before the kids come home. When they do get home, I give them snack and help them with their homework until dinner (which I make…). My parents then come home from their jobs as Yoga Therapists (its therapy while teaching yoga- a smash with the billionaires around here.) I then read for a while longer, and I'll be asleep by 10:30. Always.

Anyways, the blonde girl came over to my table, and pulled a chair up to sit next to the boy. To my surprise, she didn't ignore me, but introduced herself.

"Hi, I'm Annabeth. Sorry if we disturb you," she said, and I shrugged.

"Its fine," I replied, "I'm George."

"Right, you're in AP Stat with me, right?" she asked and I nodded. "You're good."

I blushed unused to the compliments, and with that, we were off to work. They didn't talk to me, and I didn't talk to them.

The thing I noticed is that they both seemed to be moving through their work at a slower pace, although the girl, Annabeth, seemed to be a little bit faster than her companion. It was a shame that she seemed to be taking such advanced classes but struggled with the on-level English text. She shut the book with a snap, and I looked down as she looked up, embarrassed at the prospect of her catching me staring.

She whispered something to the boy, along the lines of "screw this," and as I peered over the top of my textbook to see her pulling out another book, this one looked kinda fuzzy to me, and as I focused a little more, I saw that it seemed to be written in another language.

"Percy," she hissed, and he seemed to be zoned out, pensive look on his face. "Percy," she tried again, and when he didn't answer, "Seaweed Brain." Finally, she gave up, not wanting to bother the entire library, and slapped his arm hard. He didn't seem to feel that either. Annabeth seemed to, though, and winced, shaking her hand. She then resorted to rubbing a hand on his back, and it seemed to jerk Percy, I guess his name is, out of his trance with a yelp.

"Sorry…" he laughed, noticing the people staring.

I looked back down at my own papers, noticing that I hadn't gotten nearly as much done as usual. I could always do it at home…

Annabeth pulled a second book out of her backpack and handed it to Percy, and he breathed a rather loud sigh of relief.

"Thank gods… I thought I was gonna fail this semester," he whispered, (apparently not quietly enough).

Thank gods… I must have misheard that. Definitely.

The three of us carried on with our own separate work until I heard tapping again.

Tap tap tap tap tap

I looked up. Percy again. Not wanting to be rude, I didn't say anything, but the tapping continued.

Tap tap tap tap tap

I'm just glad I didn't have to say anything.

"Percy, shut up," Annabeth scolded, "You're such a seaweed brain. Can't you see you're bothering George with the stupid tapping?"

He rolled his eyes. "Obviously not… I can't control it, ADHD. Wise Girl." He tacked that last bit onto the end sarcastically, though the two of them shared a little look after words. He looked across the table at me. "Sorry George," he apologized.

I shrugged and got back to work. I enjoyed a few more minutes of nice, silent study until another yelp broke the moderate silence of the library.

"Ouch, Perce, you kicked me! " Annabeth glared at him.

"Sorry…" He sounded glum. So would I if she glared at me.

Once again, after a few precious minutes of silence, I resigned to the fact that I probably wouldn't be getting much done in the end.

"I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves, everybody's nerves, everybody's nerves, I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves and this is how it goes… I know a son- Oh!" I look up upon hearing an awfully loud thump on the ground, thankful that he finally stopped singing the awful song.

My siblings sing it (and many other annoying tidbits) ALL THE TIME at home and if I had to deal with it at school I think I'd die.

Percy was on the ground, I think more surprised than hurt, (though if it were me my butt bones would be killing me) and a rather triumphant Annabeth smugly returning to the foreign book.

"I will get you…" he mumbled, climbing back into the hard school-issued chair.

"You try," she replied, and he rolled his eyes, twitching his nose and muttering to himself.


'Ten more minutes, ten more minutes.' I think to myself, glad that this disastrous study hall is almost over. There have been more squabbles between the two upperclassmen sitting in front of me than the most unhappily married couple ever experience.

Why didn't I move? Because that would show defeat, and failure, and I, George Finkle, do NOT show defeat. I just brush the hair off my face, push my glasses up my nose, and keep trucking it out.

How could they stand to even sit next to each other, let alone, one be tutored by the other. It just seemed impossible.

"Hey, hey Annabeth?" I internally groaned, bracing myself for another little fight.

"What?" There was a pause.

"Can you help me with this one? I can't understand it."

"Oh, sure," she replied, and I was shocked. I snuck a glance and saw their heads together over a worksheet covered in chicken scratch handwriting and yellow highlighter.

"In… the… first… ch-chap-pter, how…does… Huck… de-desc-cri-be… the… ra-il?" He ended, and Annabeth shook her head.

"Nah, the last word is raid. Nice, though. You've almost got all of them this time."

"Yes!" Percy cheered, gaining him many nasty looks from our fellow library patrons. He blushed, as did Annabeth, and he sat back down, embarrassment all over his face.

I spent the rest of the time proofing the work I'd already done, and was mentally preparing myself to finish the rest of it when I got home. I'd rather do it all here. My house is too crazy, and with all the kids and the pets and my senile grandmother running around, I'm surprised I got passed the third grade.

The bell rang and I gathered up my things, putting them carefully into my backpack. I followed the rest of the students trailing out of the library when I saw the two people from the library- Percy and Annabeth. They were holding hands and… did they just kiss?

But… They can't stand each other. Can they? There were the looks, the accidental kicks under the table and shoves off of the hard library chairs and elbows banged into tables. Those annoying questions and frightening glares were all… in love? Romantic pain and suffering, physically and emotionally?

I'm glad I don't have to deal with any of that. I'll happily stay in my asexual box. Forever.