The Summer I Became a Nerd - By Leah Rae Miller Page 0,2

of a sprint. A dash? Either way, I manage to get to the mailbox and pull out the contents with near-inhuman speed. As soon as I spot the manila envelope, I swear angels sing. I super-run back to the house and dump all the mail on the kitchen counter, except for the manila envelope. I take the stairs to the second floor in leaps and bounds. Grabbing the frame of my door before I fly past it, I use my momentum to swing into my room. The door slams closed behind me.

I throw the envelope onto the bed, not wanting to look at it until I’m ready. This is too important to simply breeze through the moment. I dig out my comic journal from its hiding place in the closet—on the top shelf, stuck inside a stack of sweaters that won’t be brought out until early December—and throw it on the bed, as well. It’s just a notebook where I keep all my thoughts about the books I read, but to me it’s a treasure trove of secret identities, quotes, and life lessons only superhumans can teach.

I kick off my flip-flops a little too hard and they hurtle through the room, almost knocking over my bedside lamp. Whoops. I twist my blond hair into a messy bun on the top of my head. Can’t have any tendrils escaping while I’m reading and blocking my view.

This is it. Is Marcus, The Sonic One, strong enough to defeat Baron Gravity? Or will he be sucked into oblivion by one of Baron Gravity’s randomly created black holes? Will Wendy realize she loves Marcus and fly to his rescue? Does Grayson, the lovable but oblivious sidekick also known as The Young One, die, thereby making me cry because he never found out the true identity of his parents?

I sink into my plush comforter and cross my legs under me. I pull off the purple pen that’s been hanging onto the spiral wire binding of my comic journal, turn to a blank page, and write: The Super Ones #400.

I am ready.

Eyes closed, I pick up the envelope. I blindly feel for the flap, open it, and pull out the comic. It’s thin, but oh-so-crisp. There’s nothing better than the smell of fresh ink, so I take a deep breath to lock away the memory of this moment. After making sure I have it facing the correct way by fingering the pages with my right thumb and sliding the tip of my left index finger over the staples binding it, I take another deep breath, then open my eyes.

YOUR ORGANIC GARDEN AND YOU

Huh?

I throw my comic journal off my lap and lean over the side of the bed to grab the discarded envelope. Nothing else in there. There are only regular envelopes on the kitchen counter. I couldn’t have missed it.

I scramble to my desk and turn on my laptop, barely resisting the urge to call it a slow piece of junk and cursing myself further. I pull up my e-mail, which I haven’t checked since I got home from school, because I had been too busy watching Randy do his Robert Pattinson impression. Sure enough, there’s an e-mail.

Dear Madelyne Jean Summers,

Due to unprecedented demand, The Super Ones #400 is currently out of stock. Your copy will be shipped in 5-7 weeks. We apologize for the inconvenience.

They apologize? Are they kidding?! I can’t wait five to seven weeks. I must know now! Can Wendy, a.k.a. The Bright Frenzy, man-up and tell her father to get a life so she can fly off to the war-ravaged planet of Zocore in order to sacrifice herself in the ensuing battle? Will Marcus make a dying attempt to block a severe radiation blast heading straight for Young One’s face?

It’s too much to deal with. I must get my hands on issue #400.

There’s only one place in town that would have a copy. Is the risk of being seen and losing my place atop Natchitoches Central’s elite worth it? No. Absolutely not. It’s been a long, hard climb to the top of the popularity ladder. It took a lot of deceit and subterfuge to get people to forget The Costume Incident. And once something like that is started, there’s no going back. I’ve been at it for five years now. Not having anyone to geek out with over the latest superhero movie (other than my brother, but he doesn’t count), having to hold my tongue about all my fandoms, making a