HE'S MY NERD

In every section, there’s always that one person who’s unbelievably smart. The kind you’d think has already stuffed every book into his brain—and to tell you honestly, I’m attracted to that. But… it just so happens he’s a guy, so I’ll pass. In my existence here on earth, no woman I’ve ever met has been as intelligent as him. Looking at him makes you question why you were even born into this world just to be dumb. Don’t get me wrong or feel bad about it, but that’s exactly what I feel whenever I see him. I wish I were him. Because he already has everything. But in the end, that’s where I stop wishing I was him. Because even if I’m not as smart as him, I make up for it in other ways—I’m good at pulling girls. While he’s busy memorizing books, I’m the center of attention outside the classroom. People really are given different kinds of luck in this world. If all the knowledge is with him, then the charisma that no textbook can teach—that’s mine. “Mr. Garcia,” I snapped back to reality when I heard our professor’s voice. “Can you please stand up and answer this simple question?” he said, pointing at the whiteboard. “In a patient with Acute Respiratory Distress Syndrome (ARDS) on mechanical ventilation, explain how the use of Positive End-Expiratory Pressure (PEEP) affects the relationship between pulmonary capillary hydrostatic pressure and alveolar recruitment to prevent surfactant deactivation. Can you also briefly differentiate how this physiological shift might influence cardiac output via right-to-left shunting?” After he asked the question, I just smirked. Fuck. That’s a simple question to him? Our eyes met unintentionally, but instead of helping me—like they say classmates should—he just smirked in a way that felt insulting, like he was enjoying this. “Mr. Garcia? Do you know the answer or not?” I looked back at our bald professor and smiled again. “I didn’t review it, sir,” I answered. He told me to sit down and called the genius of our class—none other than Mr. Ferrer. Ferrer stood up effortlessly, back straight, voice calm. “Actually, sir, PEEP works by increasing the functional residual capacity, which offsets pulmonary capillary hydrostatic pressure by keeping the alveoli open at the end of expiration. This prevents alveolar collapse and surfactant depletion. However, excessive PEEP can increase intrathoracic pressure, which decreases venous return and subsequently lowers cardiac output.” The terms that shattered my brain cells sounded so effortless coming from him. After his answer, our professor nodded, then looked at me. “Very well said, Mr. Ferrer. I hope the rest of you follow his example,” he said, before looking straight into my eyes and shaking his head. “Listen, everyone—and especially you, Mr. Garcia. Studying is very important. Looks and chasing women are not enough. You won’t be able to pull a patient out of a critical condition using charisma alone. Nursing requires a brain, not just a smile.” They laughed, but I just frowned. What’s so funny about that? At least I have talent. A talent for pulling girls— At lunch break, I waited for Ferrer outside the door to confront him about the way he looked at me earlier. I don’t like that. I don’t want enemies, so I wanted to settle it early. “Hey, Ferrer,” I called. “What was that look earlier? Acting like I did something to you.” He stopped and looked me up and down like he was disgusted. “You know, Garcia, try studying when you have time. You’re starting to look stupid because all that fills your mind is girls and lust. You chose nursing, not being a playboy. Your tuition is a waste if your libido is the only thing working,” he said bluntly before turning his back on me. What’s his problem? Just because he’s smart, he gets to talk like that? Before he could get far, I shouted loud enough for others to hear. “Hey, Mr. Genius! You’re smart, sure—but are you gay? Because in all this time, you’ve never even been seen with a girl. Or maybe… you’re just scared of women because you don’t know how to handle them?” He stopped for a second but didn’t turn around, so I pushed further. “What a waste of that brain if it’s only for books. Try using your body too—maybe you’ll finally become a man.” I walked past him with a wide grin, feeling proud that I finally shut him up. I thought it was over—but I suddenly froze when something hit my back. A thick book he threw at me. “The hell?!” I snapped, rubbing my back. When I turned, his eyes were blazing—no longer calm like he was in front of professors. “You think having a girl in your bed makes you more of a man?” he said, walking closer, each step filled with tension I didn’t expect. “Being a man is about responsibility and competence, Garcia. Something you clearly lack. Pick that book up. Maybe if it touches your skin, some common sense will rub off on you.” Everything happened so fast. I knew he was smart, but I didn’t expect this side of him. People were staring at us, but he didn’t care. Damn it. I didn’t even know how to respond—he hit right where it hurts. I just picked up the book. “Thanks for this. I’m gonna keep it,” I said, then walked away before he could hit me again with more truth. But when I got farther away, I stopped by a trash can—and threw the book in. He hit my ego… and everything else too. I promised myself I’d surpass him in intelligence. So that night, my table was filled with different books—but just looking at them already gave me a headache.