Surviving my Life as an Intellectual Genius

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic

A 16 year old girl, Spencer Kelly, is a beautiful ballerina and mostly an intellectual genius. One day after practicing at The Ballet studio, she is grabbed by four homicidal maniacs. Can she escape? Or will she be killed? Please Read! Thanks!

Chapter 1 (v.1) - Internal Minds

Submitted: January 26, 2013

Reads: 98

Comments: 1

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Submitted: January 26, 2013



"Here is the following list for those going to Second Year. Thank you all for auditioning." Mr. Cardell announced as he put the list on the wall. Most everyone ran to the list, after he left. "Yes!" "No!!!" That was all you would hear repeating over and over. Which made me wonder who got in and who did not, but I just waited until they cleared out. I walked up to the sheet, held my breath and closed my eyes. I slowly opened my eyes, released my breath, and let my fingers glide along the sheet until I saw my name. I paused before following the dotted line, which held my result, with my fingers. I dragged my fingers to the right of the dotted line. "I made it." I sighed in relief.

"Hey, Spencer." my friend said from behind me. "Harry, look. I made it. I didn't actually believe that I would." I told him. He high-fived me. "I knew you'd make it to Second Year." he smiled. "Did you make it to Third Year?" I asked. "Yeah. Are you going to Zain's party on Friday at his home in the Country?" he asked me softly. "I'm not sure yet. Why?" I asked. "Oh, no reason." he sighed. "I'll see you later Harry." I smiled, and walked to my locker in the girls changing room. I took my duffel bag out, and changed out of my ballet practice outfit. I changed into my sweats, put by bag back into my locker, and locked the locker. I started on my daily run from the studio to the boardwalk and back to the dorm rooms.

Dancing, Ballet, Studying, and Running never seizes to relax my nerves, or allow me to think clearly. Studying does not sound like a fit, with all the cardio the rest of my calming list, but when you have a perfect ACT score of at age 11 it does fit. It is strange being called a "Genius" when you are 11 years old. You have to respond to questions like "Do you know every word in the Dictionary?", "How fast can you read?", "What is your IQ?" or my personal favorite "Do you know every phobia?" The answers would be "Yes, actually I do know every word in most dictionary.", "I can read 20,000 words per minute.", "Do you mean my Intelligence Quotient? If so, then my 'IQ' level is 187." and "Yes, I do know every phobia. Such as Didaskaleinophobia, Glossophobia, Phonophobia, Phronemophobia, Polyphobia, Psychophobia, Scopophobia, Scriptophobia, and Taphephobia. That is only a few examples. I'll send you a letter that lists them all, if you would like." Most people say no, it's pretty funny. Usually, the people that ask my favorite question try to find out what those words mean, it takes them days. It takes me about 30 seconds.

I'm not trying to brag about my intellectual insights. Actually, most people don't know anything about my 'genius' mind. I tell them one little thing about statistics or physics and they ask what's wrong with me. I try to stick with knowing only dancing, because that way no one asks me anything.

As I opened the door to the lobby of my dorm, I heard Alyssa and Meggie fighting. "Hey, were you mentally rambling to yourself, again?" Zain asked as I walked in, still in my sweats. "No, I was out for a run." I told him. "Yeah, sure. You were too." he laughed. "Have you seen, Harry?" I asked as I looked around. "He is up in our room." he told me. Of course, he usually knew where Harry was because they shared a room. "Thanks." I said and started up the stairs. I knocked on the door. "Harry?" I asked. "Come in!" he yelled. "I was wondering....uh...Wait, what are you doing?" I asked as he walked out of the bathroom with a frown. "Nothing." he sighed. "Did you know that a person's face, especially their eyes, creates the most obvious and immediate cues that lead to the formation of impressions. Also, tthe face as a whole indicates much about human moods as well.Right now, your face is forming the impression of a particular mood of disconsolateness." I smiled. "What?" Harry replied. That was the response I wanted confounded bemusement or utter confusion. "You look sad." I giggled, because I was the only one who knew what I was saying until that point. "I'll tell you later. You smell bad." he told me honestly. "Sorry. I was out for a run. I'll go change." I said while getting up. "See you 'later' so you can tell me why you have disconsolateness." I smiled, and left.

© Copyright 2017 Audrey Moon. All rights reserved.


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