Economics. Does anyone actually enjoy Economics? Please, don't be afraid to come forward. No? Moving on then.
I'm really bad at Economics. I'm not being modest. I'm honestly really, really awful... And, because of my own incapacity, I hate Economics with a fiery passion. Sadly, hating something with a fiery passion does not qualify as a good excuse... in fact, teachers seem to frown upon that excuse. Possibly because they themselves happen to enjoy Economics... I mean they are teaching that subject, after all.
So, onward to the point. Because I'm so terrible at this subject, Milo has become my tutor... and in return, I tutor him in Calculus. Snicker at me if you must, but I actually enjoy Calculus.
And this is where the next phase of the story begins.
We were sitting at our usual table in the library cafe, books open... eyes twitching. Milo had written a seemingly simple Economics problem for me to complete (something about the relationship between inflation and unemployment rates).
I assure you that I was scribbling fiercely on this bit of paper... mostly doodles... but still, scribbling nonetheless... and the answer sort of half came to me. If that makes any sense at all. So, I wrote down as much of it as I could (something about an inverse relationship) and passed it across the table to Milo.
Usually, he has the Calculus problem finished before I have the Economics one (usually with the right answer, too...). That day was different... He hadn't passed the Calculus problem back to me. In fact, I think I looked up to see if he was still there, I was so shocked.
That's when I saw that, yes, Milo was still there... and that, no, the Calculus problem wasn't done. Actually, there was very little writing on the paper besides the problem... and being as shocked as I was, I remember the exact writing: 2xdx.
Needless to say... that wasn't the right answer. So, I looked up at Milo again... with that typical-confused-girl look on my face. You know the one. Eyes narrowed, head tilted.
And that's when I saw it... even through my narrowed eyes. I could see that he was spacing out. He was spacing out in a direction other than his paper. In the direction of what I like to call "Brain Storm".
Brain Storm is actually an ironic name for that part of the room... since the people who usually sit there have the collective IQ of a Polaroid picture.
There's a guy over there who has never worn the same sweater twice... he's the little white border of the Polaroid, keeping the pack together. A few guys and girls with permanent smiles make up the black backing, supporting everything. And one girl... shiny dark brown hair, perfectly applied makeup, pink miniskirt... she's the colorful goo. You know, the stuff that actually forms the picture on the front... the stuff you look at first... not caring so much that it's actually carefully arranged goo.
If you haven't guessed already... it was that perfect picture that Milo was gazing at... to the point that he had spaced out completely.
Milo plus Polaroid Princess... a new kind of inverse relationship.