Geek Chic by Margie Palatini

One
or whatever
    Since I ’m eleven — well, almost eleven — I’m thinking this really isn’t Chapter One of like my whole entire life. (After all, I am almost eleven.)
This is probably more like Chapter Forty-seven or maybe even Fifty-one (just so you know). me: zoey zinevich
    So,
    this is what I’m thinking …

    My b-friend, Venus, helped me with the lettering.
    (She’s also extremely excellent in cursive. Wait until you see page 8.)
    Before you give yourself a total ha-ha snicker-fest, yes, I know, fairy godmothers are in that group with Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy, Wish Upon a Star, etc., etc., etc. ‖
    When you’re eleven, you have entered the age of SERIOUS DOUBLE DIGITS , which means you are now:
    a too old
    or
    (b) too cool to believe in that stuff anymore.
    “You still believe in WHO?”
    “WHAT?”
    WARNING : followed by uncontrollable laughter by certain people who are (a) or (b) or both. Proceed at your own risk.
    However
,
I’m thinking
, me being an “almost” (as in technically ten) cancels out the (a) part (see above), and the (b) part (ditto on the above) is what I’m not—which is why I’m still allowed to think (c) fairy godmother.
    This is a truly excellent thing, because I am not giving up Santa Claus—EVER—and being halfway to eleven is when you really absolutely need a fairy godmother the most. I’m going to require major fairy dust intervention in the hair department alone. There are just so many days a person can wear a hat, if you know what I mean.
    Here’s the spill
(Venus-speak for “explanation”):
    Sixth grade is only 198 days away. That’s not a lot of time to learn about all the stuff you need to learn about.
(And believe me, there’s a lot of stuff to learn about that you NEVER even thought you needed to learn about.)
Especially if you don’t want to spend your whole life at
    Table Ten.
    Remember the hourglass and Dorothy? (
Agree. You can never be too old for The Wizard of Oz.
) Well, I’m down to those last grains myself. The clock is tick-tocking.
    Venus says her sister says that if you’re not cool
by
sixth grade, you are not going to live happily ever after in sixth grade. The Cool Police are taking notes. (
whoever they are, they’re using a lot of paper on me already.
)
    Being almost eleven is getting all very complicated. It’s even way more complicated than one of Mrs. Helferich’s word problems:
    Person One walked from Town A to Town C. It took 1 hour and 25 minutes to walk from Town A to Town B. It took another 25 minutes
    to walk from Town B to Town C. Person One arrived in Town C to meet Person Two at 2:45 p.m.
    What time did he leave Town A?
    I am definitely going to need outside help.
    Especially in the previously mentioned hair and all-important accessorization categories.
    I’ve fallen way behind in accessories.
    It must have happened back in third grade when I wanted to be Amelia Earhart. The only accessory she had was a helmet. That was very useful for Amelia. Me too. The thing is, being almost eleven …you really can’t wear a helmet to school anymore. Unless you ride a bicycle.
    The backpack I made out of duct tape is pretty incredibly awesome, though. I’m just not sure The Bashleys (
Brittany-with-two-Ts and Ashley, who are both accessory experts and “boing” on the coolability meter at Harry S. Truman
) think a duct-tape backpack is a fashion accessory. Even if orange and purple is a truly outrageous color combination and duct tape is truly the most major astronaut accessory ever.
    That’s why I’m thinking about getting my own fairy godmother. Instant makeovers are FG specialities, and they know all about accessorization and “chic” too. (
The Bashleys use that word all the time.
)
    According to my
Merriam-Webster Pocket Edition
, “chic” can be used as a noun or an adjective. Either way, it means “cool.” So I’ve been researching fairy godmothers, and here’s my Lightbulb Momento:
    Cinderella
    (Told