Oliver is perfect. Pure, unaltered, concentrated perfection.

Like those orange juice comercials, where they peel the orange and the inside explodes into blinding light...I secretly think this is what is inside of him that makes him glow like he does.

Mrs. Selpats ignores his late entrance and dives right into the Revolutionary War. She speaks with animation, because she is sincerely excited and expects us to be as well.

As if anybody would rather learn about Washington's wooden teeth than study the way Oliver's sun-kissed blond hair curls just above his ears and at the nape of his deliciously tanned neck.

Well, maybe Oliver might.

I blink myself back to reality and look away because I know that somebody like Orange Juice Oliver, does not even know that people like me exist.

After what feels like forever, we've been split into groups for our first projects of the year. My friends and I are all one group and for our project we've decided to tackle Federalism.

Once we've decided who is doing what, my friends come up with another project.

There is a party being thrown at the beach tonight by a Sophomore. Everybody will be there, including O.J. Ollie. The five of us are going to ride the bus down and sneak in as well.

Tonight will officially be the greatest night of my life.