First off, I'd like to blame Nord. It's all his fault.
He's the one who actually sat and observed the teachers and came to the conclusion. He's also the one who came up with the plan.
But first, let me lay a little groundwork. I'm Jim. I have a couple friends, Shipley, and Nord. We build model rockets on the weekends, watch movies together, and talk about stuff. Now don't go jumping to conclusions about us because of the rockets thing. I play soccer. Well ... sometimes. Mostly when the coach, Mr. Seitz, lets me on the field.
See, we're not total geeks.
Nord certainly isn't a geek. He's just a genius. The calculating kind. You know ... the next Bill Gates. Nothing escapes him. He trades stock on the weekends. He says he's secretly worth half a million already. One day he'll going to rule the world, you can just tell. Maybe that's why I'm friends with him: I'm hoping that if I stick next to him for long enough, he'll let me rule Scandinavia. I'm thinking Scandinavia because I read somewhere that the senior girls sometimes go out topless in good weather. How cool is that?
So that's Nord. Shipley. Well, Shipley's a little overweight. Okay, a bit more than little. It sounds like I'm being cruel to mention this, but keep it in mind, it's actually important.
I don't remember how Shipley ended up being the third member of our little group. I think it was his collection of movies and action figures. The G.I. Joes aren't so cool anymore, but the movie collection keeps growing.
So those are my friends. All of them. And we all go to Effingdale High, a small, brick high school with large glass windows. It's a pretty typical, average, American school building.
Okay, so maybe we are a bunch of geeks, but that doesn't matter here.
What matters is Nord.
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