Reluctantly smearing sunblock over every exposed inch of my fifty-three pound body, I prepared

mentally for the arduous task that lay ahead of me. After several miserable fishing ventures
which had left my skin red and my hook bare, I felt certain that, at last, my day had arrived. I
stood ready to clear the first hurdle of manhood, triumph over fish. At the age of seven, I was
confident that my rugged, strapping body could conquer any obstacle. Pity the fish that would
become the woeful object of the first demonstration of my male prowess.

Engaging me deeply was my naive eagerness to traverse the chasm dividing boy from man. In
fact, so completely absorbed was I in my thoughts that the lengthy journey to our favorite fishing
spot seemed fleeting. The sudden break in the droning of the engine snapped me to reality.
Abruptly jarred back into the world, I fumbled for my fishing pole. Dangling the humble rods end
over the edge of the boat, I released the bail on the reel and plunked the cheap plastic lure into
the water. Once I had let out enough line and set the rod in a holder, I sat back to wait for an
attack on the lure. The low hum of the motor at trolling speed only added to my anxiety, like the
instrumental accompaniment to a horror film. And then it hit. A sharp tug on the line pulled me to
my feet faster than an electric shock. I bounded to the pole, and when I reached it, I yanked it
out of the holder with all of my might. My nervous energy was so potent that when I tugged on
the rod, I nearly plunged headlong over the side of the boat and into the fish’s domain. Although
adrenaline streamed through my veins, after five minutes both my unvanquishable strength and
my superhuman will were waning steadily. Just when I was fully prepared to surrender to the
fish and, with that gesture, succumb to a life of discontentment, pain, and sorrow, the fish
performed a miraculous feat. Shocked and instantly revived, I watched as the mahi-mahi leapt
from the ocean’s surface. The mahi-mahi’s skin gleamed with radiant hues of blue, green, and
yellow in a breathtaking spray of surf. Brilliant sunlight beamed upon the spectacle, giving life to
a scene which exploded into a furious spectrum of color. The exotic fish tumbled majestically
back to the sea amidst a blast of foam. With this incredible display, the fish was transformed
from a pitiful victim to a brilliant specimen of life. I cared no longer for any transcendent ritual I
must perform, but rather, I longed only for the possession of such a proud creature. I hungered
to touch such a wonder and share the fantastic bond that a hunter must feel for his kill. I needed
to have that fish at any cost.

The fight lasted for only ten minutes; nevertheless, it was a ten minutes which I will never forget.
When my fish neared the boat, I felt more energized than I had when the fish first struck. At my
father’s command, I netted the fish and hauled it into the bottom of the boat. I was nearly
bursting with exhilaration. Released from the net, the fish dropped to the bottom of the boat with
a hollow thud, and my jaw dropped with it. I stared in complete horror at the violently thrashing
fish which was now at my feet. Within minutes, all of the fish’s vibrant color and life had
vanished. Instead, came blood. Lots of blood. It sprayed from its mouth. It sprayed from its gills.
Shortly, the boat was coated with the red life blood of the mahi-mahi. It now lay twitching
helplessly while it gasped and choked for oxygen in the dry air. I felt sickened, disgusted, and
utterly lost in heart-wrenching pity. As I watched the color drain from the fish, leaving it a morbid
pale-yellow, I realized that I was responsible for the transformation of a creature of brilliance and
life into a pitiful, dying beast.

Despite my brother cheers and praises, I rode back to shore in bitter silence. I could not help
thinking about the vast difference between the magnificent creature which I saw jump in the sea
and the pathetic beast which I saw gasping for life in the bloody pit of the boat. What struck me
most forcefully on that day, though, was the realization that I was no mere bystander to this
desecration. I was the sole cause. Had I not dropped the hook into the water, the fish
undoubtedly would still be alive. I, alone, had killed this fish.
MARK PAUL TABIOS 11-ACACIA SCIENCE JAN 23,2018

Molecular geometry is the three-dimensional arrangement of the atoms that constitute

a molecule. It influences several properties of a substance including its reactivity, polarity, phase
of matter, color, magnetism and biological activity.[1][2][3] The angles between bonds that an
atom forms depend only weakly on the rest of molecule, i.e. they can be understood as
approximately local and hence transferable properties.

Valence shell electron pair repulsion (VSEPR) theory is a model used in chemistry to predict
the geometry of individualmolecules from the number of electron pairs surrounding their central
atoms.[1] It is also named the Gillespie-Nyholm theory after its two main developers. The
acronym "VSEPR" is pronounced either "ves-pur"[2]:410 or "vuh-seh-per".[3]

The premise of VSEPR is that the valence electron pairs surrounding an atom tend to repel each
other and will, therefore, adopt an arrangement that minimizes this repulsion, thus determining
the molecule's geometry. Gillespie has emphasized that the electron-electron repulsion due to
the Pauli exclusion principle is more important in determining molecular geometry than the
electrostatic repulsion.[4]

VSEPR theory is based on observable electron density rather than mathematical wave
functions and hence unrelated toorbital hybridisation,[5] although both address molecular shape.
While it is mainly qualitative, VSEPR has a quantitative basis in quantum chemical topology
(QCT) methods such as the electron localization function and the quantum theory of atoms in
molecules (QTAIM).[4]