THE CLUCK-IT LIST
I found her where we always sat, at the corner bench in the courtyard. Half the table always in shadow, the other half bathed in sunlight-just like us, hidden in plain sight.
We were the forgotten nerds of RHS. Cliché, right? At times, it was down right embarrassing, like when kids from grade school forgot our names, nevertheless, most of the time, it was worth it. We lived efficiently: working hard while deftly avoiding drama (and we're talking high school here).
"We're not special anymore," I announced, slapping a fire truck font emblazoned sheet on top of Emily's Anatomy and Physiology text.
"And this? This list is going to make us special? If anything it'll get us in trouble..." She murmured warily, her eyes absorbing our step-by-step instructions to the good life.
THE CLUCK-IT LIST
The nonsensical name aptly described the list: irrational-senseless at best. From visiting a cemetery at midnight with an Ouija Board to wearing embarrassing clothes in the Big Apple, the list compiled thirty of the most impractical tasks. And we only had three months.
"No. It'll make us clucking sensational."
Thirty Xs and ninety months later, Emily and I weren't exactly "clucking sensational". We still spent more time on homework than with friends and cracked chemistry puns whenever the opportunity arose.
I still found her where we always sat, at the shadiest and sunniest bench in the courtyard. But with us sat several new faces. 'The Cluck-It List' caught Taylor, Katie, Mia and David's interest. We met Alena as we let loose at Homecoming, and Sarah and Shannen at our weekly yoga classes. Karis lent us her old theater clothes, while Paul taught us how to sneak out of a strict Asian household and Dan gave us directions to the nearest cemetery.
Half of us in the sun, the rest in the shadow, we sat close enough to interact with other friends, but far enough away to peacefully cram for our last exams. We were still the nerds of RHS.
But we were no longer forgotten. Cluck-It had, subconsciously, stripped us of our shells and taught us how to live lightheartedly.
I found her where we always sat, at the corner bench in the courtyard. Half the table always in shadow, the other half bathed in sunlight-just like us, hidden in plain sight.
We were the forgotten nerds of RHS. Cliché, right? At times, it was down right embarrassing, like when kids from grade school forgot our names, nevertheless, most of the time, it was worth it. We lived efficiently: working hard while deftly avoiding drama (and we're talking high school here).
"We're not special anymore," I announced, slapping a fire truck font emblazoned sheet on top of Emily's Anatomy and Physiology text.
"And this? This list is going to make us special? If anything it'll get us in trouble..." She murmured warily, her eyes absorbing our step-by-step instructions to the good life.
THE CLUCK-IT LIST
The nonsensical name aptly described the list: irrational-senseless at best. From visiting a cemetery at midnight with an Ouija Board to wearing embarrassing clothes in the Big Apple, the list compiled thirty of the most impractical tasks. And we only had three months.
"No. It'll make us clucking sensational."
Thirty Xs and ninety months later, Emily and I weren't exactly "clucking sensational". We still spent more time on homework than with friends and cracked chemistry puns whenever the opportunity arose.
I still found her where we always sat, at the shadiest and sunniest bench in the courtyard. But with us sat several new faces. 'The Cluck-It List' caught Taylor, Katie, Mia and David's interest. We met Alena as we let loose at Homecoming, and Sarah and Shannen at our weekly yoga classes. Karis lent us her old theater clothes, while Paul taught us how to sneak out of a strict Asian household and Dan gave us directions to the nearest cemetery.
Half of us in the sun, the rest in the shadow, we sat close enough to interact with other friends, but far enough away to peacefully cram for our last exams. We were still the nerds of RHS.
But we were no longer forgotten. Cluck-It had, subconsciously, stripped us of our shells and taught us how to live lightheartedly.