Nerdy — Ridin

They called him “Ridin’ Nerdy.” Not to his face, usually. But he heard it.

Leo Vasquez knew three things for sure: he could solve differential equations in his sleep, he’d never kissed a girl, and his 1998 Honda Civic was the nerdiest car in the entire high school parking lot. While his classmates revved Mustangs and lifted Jeeps, Leo’s car wore faded anime stickers, a dented “My other car is a TARDIS” bumper plate, and a hand-painted Mass Effect N7 logo on the hood. ridin nerdy

He pulled a laptop from his backpack, connected it to his car’s diagnostics, and projected the telemetry onto a nearby wall: G-force graphs, throttle response curves, brake pressure maps. Other racers gathered, curious. Within ten minutes, Leo was explaining torque vectoring to a crowd that included the school’s prom queen and a guy with a shaved head and neck tattoo. They called him “Ridin’ Nerdy

And Leo? He drove home slowly, windows down, humming the Doctor Who theme. For the first time, he felt exactly as cool as he really was. While his classmates revved Mustangs and lifted Jeeps,

The county’s unofficial street race — The Ghost Run — was in three days. No one had ever invited Leo. This year, he showed up anyway.

Kyle walked over after, face red. “That’s not racing,” he muttered.

The insult came from Kyle Harmon, quarterback and part-time bully. “Look,” Kyle laughed in the cafeteria, “Leo’s ridin’ nerdy again. Bet his car runs on binary and broken dreams.”