Ned Hardy

I used to be a genius.

I say that with the same smirk I imagine washed-up child actors wear when they introduce themselves at Comic-Con. “Hi, I was the kid in that thing once.” Except instead of a minor role in a Nickelodeon sitcom, my legacy was an above-average ability to finish a worksheet before the rest of the class finished reading the instructions. I was a “gifted kid.” Capital G. Capital K. The kind of kid teachers talked about in the teacher’s lounge like a draft pick they were grooming for the majors.