THE PERFECT TEN (Boxed Set)

laughter, especially from the girls in the room, the general consensus was that I didn’t belong.
    I couldn’t agree more.
    “This is Rayen,” Mr. Suarez informed the room, then he told me, “Take one of the two seats in the back on the left, but don’t turn on the monitor.”  
    I passed small metal tables with light colored wood surfaces that each held two keyboards and two flat panels...I dug around in my mind and the word “screen” floated up then “monitor.” Each table had room for two students.
    Monitors and keyboards.
    Finally, something clicked. I knew what a monitor was, and a keyboard.
    Maybe coming in here would rattle my memory. 
    Most of the kids seemed to be my age. As I walked toward the last desk on the left, one of the guys I passed studied me with blatant interest, then softly said, “Hel-looo, baby.” 
    I might not grasp every meaning, but I did understand that wolfish look, especially when the girl next to him hissed something angry under her breath. He just kept smiling at me. I might not belong here and had no idea who I was, but I knew when a boy was interested, and recognized female jealousy.
    Some things were universal. But she wasted her energy. I had no interest in him or his leer.
    I kept my eyes on the back corner. All I had to do was stay out of trouble and make it to the meeting in Dr. Maxwell’s office at five o’clock.
    Mr. Suarez stepped behind his desk. He muttered something about finishing rollcall as he glanced up and down, eyes searching out each student after saying a name.
    I settled into my chair, glad not to be in the front on display any longer.
    The teacher scanned the room again. “Where’s Tony?”
    When no one answered, Mr. Suarez scribbled on a paper pad, then turned and wrote words on a white wall behind him that read:
    Deadline for the Top Ten Competition: May 15, 2013.
    Wait, I understood that. The words at least, but not what they meant.
    The instructor set down his pad. “Deadline for this year’s competition. That’s two weeks from today, folks.” 
    I toyed with the date in my mind, but 2013 triggered no concrete memories. Surely something significant had happened this year in my life.
    The more I studied the date it did feel familiar, and pressing. Significant. Why?
    I was starting to hate that three-letter word.
    Every time I tried to concentrate hard on anything, an ache bit into my forehead with sharp teeth. I rubbed my temple then dropped my hand. My fingers touched the green book.
    As Mr. Suarez started talking about the project, I propped the book on my desktop and opened it, reading the first page of introduction. Hannah was right about how long it’d take to get through this thing, but I couldn’t get past how special holding a book felt.
    Mr. Suarez paused.
    The silence drew my attention.
    He looked right at me when he spoke. “For those of you who are new, the Top Ten Computer Project’s a special event the Browns created where our best ten students in computer science will have a chance to compete for a full scholarship to any of the top ten universities in this country. You’ll each be assigned a partner for the first phase.” 
    Excitement flittered through the room, but I couldn’t have been less interested. I was locked on my book, blocking out Mr. Suarez’s voice so I could read as much as possible in what time I had. I started scanning the pages fast, really fast. Then I felt heat, or energy, swirl in my chest. The same type of feeling I’d had earlier when I listened to the Browns and Dr. Maxwell talk behind the partially closed door.
    I clutched the book tighter and the energy rolled down my arms until my fingers tingled.
    Pages fluttered past as if I fanned the pages, but I only held the book.
    I caught every word, comprehended every sentence.
    In less than a minute, I’d finished the book. And slammed it shut, earning a hard stare from a girl at the next table over. Her gaze ended with a frown that said, “freak.” 
    Pushing the book away, I looked at my trembling hands.
    Was that normal?
    Was I normal?
    “Miss Landers and Miss Pearson make up the next team,” Mr. Suarez said, calling out names to match up partners for the project.
    I took a couple of breaths to settle myself and did a quick head count again, relieved at the uneven number of students. No one to match me up with?
    That suited me just fine. I’d only end up proving how clueless I was about everything in this room and in this school,