HOME | DD

Description
She was the kid who sat in the very back row in every single class. It didn’t matter which period, or what room, but she always managed to get to the farthest back seat in the left-hand corner every single day. Her English teacher even dubbed her the nickname “The Lone Ranger” because of her position in the classroom.
Then, the second she sat down, out came the notebook. A battered five-subject stack of paper that had its lined pages divided up like this: first was science, but as the year progressed, slowly bled into a cross between real biology notes and her own complex genetic equations and observations. Next was geometry, the margins studded with doodles and a running commentary on the absurdity and occasional downright stupidity of the freshmen sitting around her. Third was left blank, just in case, and fourth was supposed to be English, but after 10 pages straight about the meaning of Genesis and Exodus, rapidly switched to layer upon layer of her own evolving novel. Fifth was a multitude of exotic sketches, for when her fingers began to hurt and she couldn’t stand writing anymore.
The teachers found her somewhat annoying, always writing and drawing and rarely taking notes, yet answering any questions thrown her way with only a brief glance up towards the board and absolutely no hesitation.
“Are you writing the next great American novel back there, Lone Ranger?” her English teacher called to her every once in a while when he noticed her working. She would look up at him and smile.
“Yes sir, I am.”

Description
She was the kid who sat in the very back row in every single class. It didn’t matter which period, or what room, but she always managed to get to the farthest back seat in the left-hand corner every single day. Her English teacher even dubbed her the nickname “The Lone Ranger” because of her position in the classroom.
Then, the second she sat down, out came the notebook. A battered five-subject stack of paper that had its lined pages divided up like this: first was science, but as the year progressed, slowly bled into a cross between real biology notes and her own complex genetic equations and observations. Next was geometry, the margins studded with doodles and a running commentary on the absurdity and occasional downright stupidity of the freshmen sitting around her. Third was left blank, just in case, and fourth was supposed to be English, but after 10 pages straight about the meaning of Genesis and Exodus, rapidly switched to layer upon layer of her own evolving novel. Fifth was a multitude of exotic sketches, for when her fingers began to hurt and she couldn’t stand writing anymore.
The teachers found her somewhat annoying, always writing and drawing and rarely taking notes, yet answering any questions thrown her way with only a brief glance up towards the board and absolutely no hesitation.
“Are you writing the next great American novel back there, Lone Ranger?” her English teacher called to her every once in a while when he noticed her working. She would look up at him and smile.
“Yes sir, I am.”