[center]Winston sat at the back of the room past all the other desks. He didn't really know what "Small Unit Tactics" entailed, but it sounded interesting. He pulled the chair out from under the table that sat in the back corner of the room. [i]"I hope I don't get stuck with some idiot sitting beside me."[/i] He thought hopefully as he reached into his bag and pulled out a notebook. "Maybe I can get some work done..." He pulled out a notebook filled with writings and notations.


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Winston had a love for numbers, they had an exact perfect that was impossible to find in the regular world. Their beauty was in their simplicity and universal language; an equation will never lie to you, or have it's own ulterior motives. Which is precisely why he put so much stock in the numbers that constantly occupied his head. Winston was so deep in his calculations he didn't even notice the girl who he had mouthed off to him in the hallway following a boy with both grey hair and eyes stride into the room and sit down on the other side of the room. Shortly afterward an intimidated looking blonde girl entered, but Winston was in a completely different place. His brain works like a well oiled machine, clocking in with an IQ of 164; when it got going it was hard to stop. He got a few looks from the other students when he was whispering numbers under his breath and writing with an unusual speed, but he was used to it after so many years of the same looks; ever since the first grade.

If things had been different Winston could've graduated high school when he was twelve, but his father had refused to allow the skipping of any grades. He insisted that his son learn the "social skills" and experiences you get from schooling, much to Winston's frustration when the classes he was in moved at a snail's pace. [i]"Atleast I'm somewhere interesting now."[/i] He thought offhandedly before returning to his notes.


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