Deconstructing the Nerd

Reema Ahmed and her boyfriend's fates were set when the acceptance letters started rolling in. It was a stressful time, and understandably so. The school they chose now would set the course for the rest of their lives.

"I got early acceptance into Montgomery!" she said to him as she waved the letter at him in the hallway of their highschool.

The truth was she, like her boyfriend, Miguel Lopez, had the luxury of getting into all the schools she applied to. She was going to receive entrance scholarships on top of it as well (and that was on top of the other scholarships Reema applied to and received). Montgomery University was her first choice for their great print journalism program.

"Congratulations! I got into Western!" he exclaimed, waving his own acceptance letter. Miguel's preference was a university that specialized in engineering. Western University was renowned for its science and applied science programs, and was the perfect fit for him too.

"That's amazing," she said heartily, hugging him. Reema was genuinely excited for the both of them. They were pursuing dreams, going places. "That's what you wanted too!"

"Yeah," he agreed, letting go. "I guess that means it's official then..."

Reema stood by him and processed their reality. "Yes, I guess it is..."

The caveat to choosing differing academic paths was that they would be at different schools for the first time in a long time. Reema and Miguel met as middle school students. They were as awkward and geeky then as they were now. They then dated throughout high school. They maintained the same circle of 'Star Trek' friends, watched the same Marvel movies, and listened to the same music. Their relationship, while undoubtedly amorous, was built on mutual respect and understanding. They were social outsiders and confided in each other through that reality.

Reema loved Miguel because he was an honest, kind, driven individual who carried a work ethic passed on to him by his Mexican parents. Like her, he didn't do drugs or party excessively. His idea of a good time was a movie or video game night, usually with Reema by his side. Engineering was ultra-competitive and hard. Reema heard him say that at least 20% of entrants dropped out the first year. It was the school's way of 'weeding out' prospective applicants. He was determined to not only make it through the program but come out if it with a secure career.

"Well, we can call and Skype like we talked about. And I know you will be busy so I can come visit you every weekend," Reema proposed.

"Yes, of course," he willfully agreed.

Reema was in a very good place in her life. She was off to university. She had Miguel in her life. Although it

might

have been premature to say, they were definitely going to be together for a very long time.

She got several more letters from the university that summer. The last of these was an orientation package welcoming her to Montgomery University, her first choice. Her college was putting together an intro week for first year students to get them familiar and comfortable with the campus and the university. They arranged for fun events like day trips, boat cruises, and toga parties. Reema thought it was a great idea at least in principle. New campus, new surroundings, new people - that was scary!

But before all the festivities began, there was move-in day. To add to Reema's natural feelings of anxiety, she was accompanied by her parents. Her father marched around in his brash yet socially aloof style, completely making a show of himself while asking everyone what everything was, where they needed to be etc.

"Where is 'E122'?" he'd rudely ask another student who had as much clue as the inner workings and geography of his new campus as her father - and Reena - did. "My daughter needs 'E122'." When he didn't get the answer he wanted, he would somehow blame them for not knowing.

When Reema chimed in with the correct way to go, he would shoot her down, "You have not been here. You don't know." It was a regular thing in their relationship.

Reema's dad was very traditional. What was one to expect from an Indian immigrant? Despite willingly moving here, he seemed to have an untrusting chip on his shoulder, especially when it came to Reema. He demanded more and better of her all the time. Reema was not even convinced he fully approved of her program choice. 'Why did you choose that? There was no money in that work,' she remembered him shaking his head after she proudly showed him the acceptance letter.

Reema just looked at her mother as she carried a box of toiletries and other things beside her - and behind her husband. As she always did, she stood by and said nothing beside her louder husband. She was also Indian, albeit from a different part of the subcontinent, and grew up in a strict family where girls, especially sole children, were kept under a protective watch. Somehow Reema knew she was scared of him.

Her living quarters for the year was a mini-suite of sorts. Straight ahead from the doorway was a shabby brown couch in front of a TV and a coffee table between them. Off to the side was a modern-enough kitchenette with a stove, fridge, microwave (sadly no dishwasher, though).

"This is what ten thousand a year gets you?" her dad started.

Reema found the bright three-piece washroom. "I think it's nice." He ignored her, though. Her mom said nothing.

Her bedroom was a sizable one for what she expected. Single bed only, but there was a desk with plenty of workspace, a night table, and a nicely sized closet. Once inside it, Reema's mom and dad went about lecturing her about where she should put things to giving her advice about getting involved with the wrong people...and especially

boys

.

"When have I ever hung around smokers?" she fired back. "And I have a boyfriend. Miguel.

Remember

? I don't think you need to worry about me having people over. This is all-girls,

remember?

You wanted that."

"Do not remind me of my words. I know what I said,

Daughter

," her dad countered. He then went about trying to install a calling schedule and curfew. Reema didn't bother to let him know how that was going to work out.

Reema manoeuvred them back into the living room. "OK, Mom, Dad...I think I can take it from here," she said.

"Do you have everything?" her mom asked.

Reema didn't ponder the answer for even a second. "Yes," she said as she inched toward the door.

"You will be responsible and study every day," her dad told her.

Reema would've made a joke about how he needed to work on his parting advice, but instead she bowed to his order. "I will. Don't worry, Dad." Finally she got them in the hallway. They lingered on with more warnings, which Reema nodded along to without complaint.

Across the hall, there was another trio loitering in front of a dorm room, although they were all her age. There was a slender barefoot blonde girl in jean shorts standing against the door and two taller guys in front of them. She wondered how they got in. Maybe it was a weird visitor policy that they could only be here during the day. Reema briefly met eyes with the girl. She curiously grinned at Reema and then returned her attention to her male counterparts.

When her father finished whatever point he was making, Reema touched his forearm. "I'll be fine, trust me. You go. It's a long drive." She then hugged him. "I'll miss you." She followed that by embracing her mom, joking not to let Dad drive her too insane.

She watched as they made their way down the hall and disappeared into a staircase. The group across the hall also went into the girl's dorm

'Well, that was that,' she thought, moving into her own room and shutting the door. She stared at the empty space. Her head was feeling just as much vacuous. Sighing, she went into her bedroom and unzipped her suitcase.

Much to her surprise, the rest of the week ended up being more than her orientation package advertised. People were getting or acting drunk or high or both, and she realized Frosh Week was an unofficial excuse for people to party before school officially started. It wasn't just 'fun fun', but 'stupid fun'. Reema's school technically preached a 'dry' week, but people still found ways to indulge.

Reema didn't get it, nor did she want any part of it. She didn't party. She didn't drink. She certainly didn't smoke. During the sober bits of Frosh Week in the day, she managed to cultivate a few dialogues with like-minded people who reminded her of the kinds of people from high school. But who was to say that these would turn into relationships? She wasn't betting on it. While others were drinking, she was working on her creative writing or organizing her big binder with coloured tabs for each subject. She even went to the bookstore to get a jump on the long lines that would undoubtedly occur on the first and second day of classes. At the end of each night, she would go to bed just as the fun was starting.

Dating back to elementary school, Reema was the outcast. She was the obvious immigrant kid - or at least, the daughter of immigrants. She wasn't gifted with obviously good physical traits. She had a tanned complexion, although her arms were covered with a decent amount of her brown hair. The hair on her head was long and also brown all her life, although she never really did anything with it stylistically. She was a chubby kid. Her genetics allotted her a flat nose and fat lips - facial features that weren't helped by the usually terrible thick framed glasses over her eyes which she needed to help with her terrible vision.

Entering high school, though, her body matured considerably. Her chest filled out and her hips rounded out. Her ass too rounded out - not fat, but shapely. Despite these 'improvements', they went unnoticed by other people if only because her body shape didn't really match what most people might have considered 'hot'. It also didn't help that fashion was never her thing, so she often hid her body under very loose clothes. Her idea of an outfit was loose jeans and maybe a superhero and comic t-shirt, or sweatpants and big highschool sweater. Looks never became a priority to her or the people she was with and Miguel, and he wasn't the kind of guy who ever say anything about it.

It wasn't a surprise then that she never thought of herself as really attractive or sexy (and sexual). She just didn't care for it. She snickered to herself at all the vain girls in her class that gabbed to each other in the washroom before homeroom as they applied yet another layer of blush. She and Miguel had sex in their final year after both turning of age (her parents still didn't know), but they weren't really events that she would have called 'raw' or 'steamy'. She thought of it as another form of emotional connection that was no more the basis of their relationship than holding hands in the halls.

During the second week of classes, Reema was packing up to leave the library when her phone played the Star Trek theme song. She smiled every time she heard it. Her face only became more elated when she saw Miguel's picture on the call screen. He was giving a thumbs up and wore wide, anime-like smile with his teeth showing and his eyes. It was so goofy, but that was the kind of person he was - lighthearted, cute, and funny.

"Hey!" she answered as she slipped a thick course reader into her bag.

"Hey! What's up?" he eagerly asked in the other line. She was so happy to hear from him.

She slung her backpack and walked away from her desk as she spoke, "Oh, nothing...just leaving the library. It's like a dead zone in here," she laughed looking around at the near empty second floor study area.

Miguel started laughing, "Why?"

"There's no one here. It's quiet."

"Too quiet? Something going to pop out at you?"

Reema giggled, stepping onto the escalator. "Maybe! But at least I got a bunch done before I got abducted or something." She moved past the main foyer and exited the building. Mid-September was still quite nice. At least, it was good enough for her favourite light pink coat and a loose pair of jeans.

"What did you do?" he asked.

The sky was coloured with some pretty reds and purples. When she got to the library after her class, the sun was at its highest. Now, there were people ahead of her carrying dinner back to their room.

"I was just doing reading for my News class. Part of our work for next week is to read articles from different news sources about the same event and draw conclusions on how they are covered," she said."

"Sounds like real work!"

With all the warnings of how much tougher university was going to be, classes seemed manageable and easy for now, although maybe it was too early to tell. Out of everything that came at her in university life, academia was least troubling. Reema never really stressed about school; in highschool, no matter how crazy final exams and essays got, she managed to pull things out. She was in the most control of her life while in school.

The campus was an expansive network of buildings a lot of built in the sixties when Montgomery was founded. It took up a full city block of expropriated century and a half-old farmland. The original farmhouse is supposed to be somewhere on the campus too. The main building that housed the library and all the giant lecture halls was a Brutalist affair of lots and lots of concrete. It was really cold.

As she neared her residence building, which was a newer and more welcoming glass structure, she pulled her keys out of her pocket. "Yeah, it's great! Our program has its own newspaper too. I think I'll try to go for editor-in-chief." Someone, an athletic looking guy, was coming out at the same time she was going in, so keys weren't needed. "Thanks!" she said, although he didn't acknowledge it or her.

"You'd be perfect. You did amazing with our paper."

"Well, it's higher standards now, but I can handle it. How's everything with you? Buried yet?" As her runners climbed the staircase, chatter travelled down it.

Miguel laughed. "Not yet, but it's getting there. I'm maybe waist deep. By the end of the month I'll be up to my chest." Reema giggled.

The talking got louder and then she encountered the authors. They were three girls and an older guy - possibly fourth year - urging one another to hurry up because the liquor store was going to close soon. Among them was the girl from the other day who lived across the hall. They looked right at each other and the other girl seemed to be scanning Reema, which led the brown girl to expect her to say 'hi' this time. Reema was pretty sure they were in journalism together because she had a tutorial with her. In fact, that tutorial ran tomorrow. But without a word to Reema, the blonde only pacified her friends that they had an hour.

"Aw, you'll manage," she said into the phone, reaching her floor.

"Yeah," Miguel concurred right as Reema got to her door. "I might have to go now, actually and get started on some stuff. Are you still coming on the weekend?"

"Yup, wouldn't miss it!" Ree cheered. "Bye!"

She liked when Miguel called. Or when she called him. They tried to talk every day. The visit was going to be exciting. It would also allow her to get away from her sometimes rowdy floor mates who loved their weekends and their weekdays.

She pushed herself into her place and clapped, "Ok, dinnertime," and then headed off to boil some water. She would eat at her desk while she looked over a book. By 10:30, she was clad in her cotton pyjamas and crashing for the night.

Reema had to start the following day with a three-hour lecture at 9 in the morning. With nine hours of sleep under her belt, she was considerably more alert than all the groggy souls in the soulless, window-less lecture hall. She was one of three students who occupied the second row. She would have been in the first row, but the teaching assistants sat there. She typed out every single word the professor said, raised her hand, and even went down to the podium during the break.

When it was done, she still had a one-hour tutorial to go. As she took a spot, she looked around the room. The tables were set up in a square fashion, allowing everyone to see everyone. The blonde girl from across the hall was sitting across the room from her. That cemented it - they were in the same program. She finally learned her name too. The teaching assistant, Miles, did a roll call to familiarize himself with his class. Right after Reema was 'Cassandra Blom'.

Because she had done the readings (and was possibly the only one that did), Reema's arm was constantly shooting up. The teaching assistant, Miles, probably loved her keenness and preparation. So did the other students who would have had nothing to contribute if called on. Occasionally, Reema lifted her head from her page and noticed Cassie. She was wearing some tight skinny jeans and stripped top. Her denim clad legs, crossed under the table, shifted periodically. Her platform shoes made Reema question their necessity. As she heard another question, Reema turned her attention back to Miles and raised her hand.

The class ended with the TA handing out the year's first assignment, a paper about value systems in journalistic writing to be done in pairs and to be handed in in two weeks. Partners were up to them. Miles told them the act of finding another person would help them get acquainted with the other people in their class and program by actively forging relationships themselves. With that, he dismissed the class.

Reema figured that she would find a partner while she could, but to her shock, everyone was more concerned about trying to leave than getting that out of the way. Nobody hung around to either talk to each other or talk to the TA. It confused her. She just resigned to writing the assignment and next week's reading into her agenda and then began to pack away her things.

As she bent over to slide in her notebook, she saw a pair of pumps and the toned denim covered calves that accompanied them. Straightening her body, she saw Cassie with her perfect white smile and her hair hanging to one side of her shoulder and chest.

"Hey, you live across the hall from me, right?" she said to her.

Reema was admittedly a bit caught off guard that her rich, feminine voiced actually (and finally) was saying something to her. She collected herself and told her, "Yeah..."

Cassie nodded and officially introduced herself. "Reema, right? I'm Cassie. Do you want to maybe team up on this thing? I really don't know

anyone

in the class just yet." She finished with a laugh.

She honestly seemed friendly enough. If she thought of Cassie as aloof before this, she was now considering that perhaps her judgement was premature. Maybe the coldness wasn't deliberate. Sometimes people weren't conscious in their actions. And from a practical matter, she wanted to join up with some sooner instead of later.

"Sure...Yeah, that would be great," she finally obliged.

"Great! Tonight? My room?" Cassie asked. Reema concurred again. "Cool, see you then. Come over whenever you want. I gotta run and meet someone for lunch!"

Cassie walked away, leaving Reema to finish packing up. She also had a post-class meetup with someone - an agent at financial services. That took several hours of her time because of the long wait. While she waited for her number to blink on the screen she read her book, so it wasn't a total loss of time. She met with the person, sorted out her student loan payment, and then headed out. She made a quick stop to the library (it was as empty as yesterday) to check out a book and then headed home.

She first called her parents, who were, as expected, on her toes about not being stupid and careless. Reema sarcastically thanked her dad for the words of encouragement. That didn't go well with him, although she expected it wouldn't. After pushing him off the phone, she went about fixing something to eat and then did some work.