The Nerd’s Guide to Surviving an Apocalypse

There are mornings that feel important before anything has happened. Tuesday was not one of them. I woke up annoyed by my alarm and even more annoyed that I had to get out of bed. My room was still dim, the curtains barely letting in the early morning light, and my chemistry notebook was lying open on my desk exactly where I’d left it the night before. I had been working through a problem for almost an hour before finally giving up and going to sleep. It wasn’t even homework. I just liked chemistry enough that sometimes I forgot I was supposed to be doing anything else. There was something comforting about it. Chemistry didn’t care whether you were popular or awkward or too quiet. A reaction didn’t change because somebody disliked you. An equation didn’t suddenly become wrong because the person solving it didn’t have the right friends. Everything had an explanation. People were different. I got dressed, packed my books, and went downstairs. My mother was already sitting at the kitchen table. “You’re late.” “I know.” “You said that yesterday too.” “I was studying.” “You’re always studying.” She pushed a plate toward me. “Eat.” I sat down. For a few seconds, neither of us said anything. Then she asked, “Are you going to sit with someone at lunch today?” I looked at her. “Why?” “Because you eat alone every day.” “I like eating alone.” “That isn’t the same thing as having no one to eat with.” I didn’t answer. She wasn’t trying to hurt me. That was the problem. My mother worried about me because she loved me, and I didn’t know how to explain that being alone was sometimes easier than trying to belong somewhere I clearly wasn’t wanted. “I’ll be fine,” I said. She sighed softly. “I know you will.” I finished breakfast and left. Westbridge Academy was already crowded when I arrived. Students filled the entrance, talking loudly over one another as they hurried toward their lockers. Someone nearly ran into me on the stairs. Two boys were arguing about basketball near the doors, and a group of girls were taking pictures before class. I caught my reflection in the glass as I walked inside. I’d always known I was beautif There wasn’t much point pretending otherwise. My hair was long, straight, and dark, falling smoothly down my back. My eyes were large and brown, framed by thick lashes, and my lips were naturally full. My features were soft enough to make me look almost innocent when I wasn’t speaking. People noticed me. Sometimes I wished they didn’t. Being beautiful didn’t make school easier. If anything, it made people decide things about me before I’d opened my mouth. Some assumed I was stuck-up. Others assumed I must be confident. Madison had once told me that I was “wasting a perfectly good face” by being so quiet. I still wasn’t sure what that meant. I saw Madison Blake near the entrance with Chloe Ramirez and Serena Price. Madison was beautiful in a way that seemed perfectly suited to her. Her hair was always immaculate, her uniform always looked carefully arranged, and she carried herself with the confidence of someone who had never questioned whether people would listen when she spoke. She didn’t have to demand attention. It simply followed her. Her eyes found me. “Nora.” I kept walking. “Your bag’s open.” I glanced down. It wasn’t. Chloe laughed. Madison gave a small shrug. “My mistake.” I continued toward the science building. “Your skirt looks a little short today,” she called after me. I stopped. “It isn’t.” “I didn’t say it was.” That earned another round of laughter. I turned away before she could see how much it bothered me. That was Madison’s talent. She could say something that sounded harmless and still make you feel like the entire hallway was laughing at you. I reached the science corridor and almost walked straight into Adrian Cole. He was carrying a basketball beneath one arm, his school bag hanging from the other shoulder. He was tall and athletic, with dark hair that never seemed completely neat and a face that made it easy to understand why half the girls at Westbridge had a crush on him. Adrian was handsome without acting like he knew it. He was also one of the few people in school who seemed to be good at almost everything without needing everyone to know. Basketball. Grades. People. He got along with teachers and students, but he never seemed desperate for anyone’s approval. His eyes moved toward the entrance behind me. “You okay?” “Yeah.” He looked at me for another second. “Madison?” I gave him a look. “Why does everyone assume it’s Madison?” “Because it’s usually Madison.” I laughed before I could stop myself. He smiled. It was such a small thing, but I noticed it. “See you in chemistry,” he said. Then he walked away. I stood there for a moment, wondering why a ten-second conversation had managed to improve my entire morning. Chemistry helped too. Mr. Collins had written a problem across the board by the time I took my seat. I read it once and already knew where he was going. “What happens if we increase the concentration of the reactant?” he asked. “The equilibrium shifts toward the products.” “Why?” “Because the system responds to the change.” He nodded. “Exactly.” There were moments like that when school felt almost easy. After class, Mr. Collins stopped me near the door. “You should enter the regional science competition.” I blinked. “With what?” “Your knowledge would be a good place to start.” I laughed. “You make it sound simple.” “It is simple. You like chemistry. You’re good at chemistry. You should do something with that.” I looked down at my notebook. “I’ll think about it.” “You’ve been thinking about it since September.” He wasn’t wrong. I left the classroom smiling to myself. That feeling lasted until I returned to my desk. A folded piece of paper was sitting beneath my notebook. I opened it. NERD. I didn’t need to wonder who had written it. I folded it back up and put it away. A few minutes later, another note appeared. Do you ever do anything besides study? Then another. No wonder nobody likes you. I stared at that one. The first two didn’t bother me much. The third did. Not because I believed it. At least, I told myself I didn’t. But there were things people could repeat often enough that you started wondering whether they had noticed something about you that you’d somehow missed. I folded the paper and slipped it into my bag. “Again?” I looked up. Adrian was standing beside my desk. His attention had settled on the note. “It’s nothing.” “You don’t look like it’s nothing.” “It’s fine.” He pulled out the chair beside mine. “You don’t have to say that every time.” I didn’t know how to respond. He glanced at my chemistry work instead. “You got this wrong.” I looked down. He was pointing at one of my calculations. “You’re lying.” “You switched the signs.” I checked. He was right. “Oh.” He laughed. “That is embarrassing.” “You’ll survive.” “I’m not sure.” He laughed again, and this time I did too. It was strange how easy it was to talk to him. I’d spent so much time believing that people wouldn’t understand me that I had forgotten how nice it was when someone simply tried. At lunch, I went behind the library, my usual relaxing and studying place. I sat beneath a tree with my lunch and opened my chemistry textbook. A few minutes later, someone sat down nearby. I didn’t need to look up. “You’re following me.” “Maybe.” I closed my book. Adrian smiled. “You always eat here?” “Usually.” “Why?” “It’s quiet.” He looked toward the courtyard. “My friends are over there.” “I know.” “You could sit with us.” I stared at him. “Why?” He seemed genuinely surprised by the question. “Because I like talking to you.” For some reason, that answer stayed with me. Before I could think of anything to say, a drop of rain landed on the page between us. I looked up. The sky had darkened without me noticing. Thick clouds covered the school, turning the afternoon unusually dim. Another drop landed on my hand. Students in the courtyard began moving toward the buildings. Adrian stood. “We should go inside.” I closed my notebook and gathered my things. We had barely reached the entrance when every phone in the hallway vibrated. One after another. Then all at once. The conversations around us stopped. I pulled out my phone. SEVERE WEATHER ALERT A second notification appeared underneath. DO NOT COME INTO CONTACT WITH RAINWATER. Someone beside me said, “What?” Nobody answered. Outside, the rain became heavier. Students gathered near the windows, trying to see what was happening. Then a boy ran into the courtyard. A basketball had been left near the far end, and he was trying to retrieve it before the rain got worse. A teacher shouted for him to come back. He ignored her. He reached the ball. For a second, nothing happened. Then he looked at his hands. His expression changed. The color of his skin was disappearing. Gray spread across his fingers and moved rapidly over his palms and wrists. He rubbed at his hands, clearly expecting whatever was happening to come off. It didn’t. The gray continued upward. Someone screamed. The boy turned toward the school. “Run!” somebody shouted. He tried. His first step was normal. The second wasn’t. His movements had become stiff, almost unnatural, as though his body was slowly losing the ability to bend. The gray reached his neck. He stumbled. The basketball slipped from his hand and rolled across the wet pavement. Nobody went to help him. Everyone was too afraid. His face began changing. The fear in his eyes remained, but everything else seemed to harden around it. His skin became gray and rigid until his entire body was completely still. The boy had become a statue. A human being had stood in that courtyard less than a minute ago. Now there was only stone. The rain kept falling. Nobody spoke. I stood behind the glass with Adrian beside me, staring at the figure outside. I could hear people crying somewhere behind us. A teacher was telling everyone to move away from the doors, but nobody seemed to know what they were supposed to do. Adrian said my name. I didn’t answer. My entire life, I’d trusted the idea that everything had an explanation. Chemistry had taught me that. There was always a reason something happened. If you knew enough, if you looked closely enough, you could find it. But as I stared at the stone figure in the courtyard, I realized there was no equation for what I was seeing. No answer I could solve. No explanation waiting patiently beneath the surface. Just rain. And a boy who had walked into it and never walked back out.