Optical Allusionist

At 8:17 on a Tuesday morning, I was convinced that it was the absolute worse day of my life. I am someone who abhors lateness and rejoices in punctuality in all things. In fifth grade, I was even awarded the "Honorary Punctuality Award" for never having had a single tardy or absence. that Tuesday I was late two minutes to Chemistry, destroying my perfect record. And as if that wasn't bad enough, my library book, Summer Reading is Killing Me, was due yesterday and for one reason or another, I had conveniently remembered that morning. But that was all at 8:17.

At 8:19, as I rounded the last corner on my way to class, I ran into Rick Krennar. Books and papers flew everywhere as we bumped heads. I shook the stars out of my eyes, and the bump off my forehead, and was about to yell "Hey, watch where you're going!" when I made a huge mistake: I looked up and saw those dreamy, Tucker-blue eyes staring down at me, a concerned stare clouding his face, and puckering his eyebrows. Why was he concerned? Everything was perfectly fine. Still hazed by my elated astigmatism, I stared around at the textbooks and notes blanketing the floor. My ecstasy broken, I jumped to my knees and began to pick up the mess that had been created by my carelessness, stuffing all I cold find into both the bags. And before I could tell, Rick was gone, leaving me gazing off happily into a distant hallway, a cacophony of papers stuffed and crumpled into my bookbag.

I don't know how long I knelt there, but I do know that by the time I looked down at my watch, I finally came back to my senses. The timepiece read a grim 8:37. There was no way I could walk into class twenty-two minutes late, so there was only one thing to do: deliver the book back to the library. Straightening the chaos in my bag, I searched for the text. I looked six times, but on the seventh try, the book still wouldn't appear.

I was beginning to get frantic when who should come back but Rick. The feeling of wanting to tear out my hair was still fighting with the urge of high school acceptance as he asked me if I was looking for something. I was about to nod-- seeing as how that was all I could do-- when I had a moment. You know, one of those moments where you feel like you understand the answer to everything, and if someone asked you whether the chicken or the egg came first, you could answer with true conviction and full confidence. I stood up, bag in hand, and said, "No. I need to go to the library," thinking that perhaps i had already returned it, as would be in my nature.

Or, at least, "library" is what I meant to say, but at the last moment I looked in his eyes again, and I got weird and said something that oddly resembled "By Mary" or "Primary." Well, Rick smiled- which set me off once more. (Those teeth weren't just perfect; they were divine.) He led me out to his car, and offered me a ride. It wasn't until we pulled up to the Binary Brothers Clock Shop that I realized something was wrong. Turning to tell him that I meant "library", not "Binary", I spied a lone book on the top of the dashboard.

"Oh my gosh! My book!" Rick glanced over and affirmed that he hadn't been sure where he retrieved it from and now understood that it must have been when we bumped into each other. When we got to the library, after a brief explanation with Rick, the woman behind the counter explained that it wasn't due for another three days.

After I fainted, Rick drove me to the hospital and I was treated for shock, but after I awoke, they became suspicious of insanity and sent me to the local mental hospital for a stay of a month. After twenty-seven days of vouchers on my behalf, the doctors were finally convinced that my rantings of books and Chemistry ahd nothing to do with my mental health. Which is the reason I'm here, 25 days late, turning in my book, Summer Reading is Killing Me.