Zachary Atwell

It is quite the blessing that Zach and I fall together alphabetically. And quite coincidental that we fall together chronologically—I am one day older than Zach. Even our interest and pasts coincide—we have been playing Academic Team together every year since fourth grade. Needless to say it seems as faith itself has brought us together to be such great friends. May I dare risk characterizing ourselves as soul-mates?

Every time he walks into English class (usually late because he is an insomniac, and because you can't rush perfection) I think how great of an honor it is to sit next to him. Because when he saunters in, dressed fresh-to-death in neutral colors, looking like a male model, or a fashionable vampire out of a Stephenie Meyer novel, you can't help but be amazed. Girls get whiplash turning their necks to see him. They dream of removing his clothes with  their teeth. Hell, I bet he is as an insomniac because he has to stay up into the early morning beating the girls off of him with a stick. Down girls! Down! Heck, there is no telling how many front doors of his home have been kicked down by mobs of adoring women. If he wasn't so morally upstanding his bed-room would get more traffic than LAX. The only chicks who claim they aren't attracted to him are only insecure about his superior fashion-sense. Mr. Atwell can rock just about any look: the rebel biker, the intellectual philosopher, the detached poet, or the Steve Jobs. I think it is his eyes. A few girls have told me that looking into his eyes—deep, limpid pools of brown—they have almost drowned in beauty. 

But hey, Atwell isn't just a pretty-face. He has a wonderful body too.

Just kidding. Well not really. But in all sincerity Atwell is brilliant. You should see him play Academic-Team. He is Michael Jordan. Straight jamming on the other team. A social-studies expert. Ask him about any battle in history, and he will know it. Without fail. Obscure Asian history? He knows it. Because he is a quarter Japanese. That's Atwell. A man of the world. Cultured. Ethnic. A samurai. But with a longer and harder sword—of knowledge, of course. With ethics. And morals. The kid is Honest-Abe. He doesn't lie. And his personality. If it were any more electric it could power New York. Yeah, he is a bit shy. But that's because he is modest. Which is a good thing. After all, isn't it the meek that shall inherit the Earth? And that's perhaps the one thing most remarkable about Zach. Despite his unequivocal brilliance, his beautiful appearance, he is not cocky, or egotistical. But rather the sweetest guy in the world. I bet if a diabetic woman licked him she would go into a coma. That's how sweet he is. He loves his mom. Who is a former international-model (yeah, that's where he gets his looks from). And his little sister. And his two little brothers. Despite being totally B.A. Atwell knows how to take care of children. Ladies, prospective father material? You bet. Want some of him? Call him at (859)533-4724. Want to fantasize about his appearance? Check out his pictures at http://www.facebook.com/zachary.atwell?sk=photos. 

Zachary Atwell, I love you man.