Geek High by Piper Banks

his chair.
    â€œThat,” he said, “is very unfortunate.”
    Oh, no. He was going to suspend me. And I was going to be forced to go to Orange Cove High School with Hannah and her Barbie posse, who would shun me for not knowing what Hilary Duff’s favorite lip gloss was.
    The long silence, during which time Headmaster Hughes seemed to be deliberating my fate, stretched on forever. At least he’d stopped staring at me, instead fixing his unblinking gaze on some point behind me.
    â€œThe Snowflake Gala,” he finally said.
    Whatever I’d been expecting him to say, that wasn’t it.
    â€œIt’s been waning in popularity over the past few years,” he continued, rather cryptically. “Do you know why that is?”
    This was such an odd turn in the conversation that I hesitated. I did have a fairly good idea why the Snowflake Gala was waning in popularity. Although I actually doubted the waning part, since the event was so incredibly lame, it couldn’t possibly ever have been popular in the first place.
    Every year the school put on the Snowflake Gala the weekend after fall exams, and just before winter break. Geek High students were all forced to dress up and come to school on a Saturday night, eat a gelatinous chicken dinner, and listen to speakers talk about the importance of accelerated education programs. And then the tables would be pushed aside to make room for a dance floor, and Mr. Sanchez, the foreign languages teacher, would act as deejay, while everyone sat around and watched the teachers embarrass themselves dancing.
    But Headmaster Hughes didn’t wait for my input on the Snowflake Gala, and instead continued to speak as though he hadn’t just asked me a question.
    â€œI think that part of the problem is the lack of student involvement in the event. If a student were in charge of planning the Snowflake Gala, enthusiasm would naturally filter through the rest of the student body.”
    Actually, it wasn’t such a bad idea. And maybe whoever they put in charge could hire a decent deejay. And cancel the speakers. And get the teachers to stay home…or at least not strike John Travolta–style disco moves while on the dance floor.
    â€œI think that’s a really good idea, sir,” I said supportively.
    â€œExcellent. I’m glad you agree.”
    We smiled at each other. And then suddenly I realized that there was something going on….
    â€œWait. Why are you glad I agree?” I asked cautiously.
    â€œBecause I’m putting you in charge of planning the Snowflake Gala,” Headmaster Hughes said.
    â€œNo!” I yelped.
    He stopped smiling and frowned at me.
    â€œI mean…I can’t…I couldn’t possibly…” I gibbered.
    â€œI think it’s just the sort of direction you need, Miranda,” Headmaster Hughes said with finality. “Unless, of course, you tell me who is behind the Geek High blog.”
    So that was it: He was blackmailing me. I sighed.
    â€œWhich will it be, Miranda? Truth or consequence?” Headmaster Hughes asked.
    I decided I really didn’t like Headmaster Hughes. You’d think a guy who shaves his head would be somewhat cool. It was disappointing to learn otherwise.
    â€œI’ll take the Snowflake,” I muttered.
    â€œAs you wish,” Headmaster Hughes said gravely, inclining his head. “Why don’t you start brainstorming ideas for the gala and get a committee together, and we’ll meet…shall we say”—he paused while he flipped through his old-fashioned desktop calendar—“on October third to discuss your ideas?”
    I nodded dejectedly.
    â€œHave a nice rest of your day,” Headmaster Hughes said. I stood and was about to slink out of the office when he continued. “Oh, and Miranda? Try to stay out of trouble. I’d hate to have to tell your mother that you’re not living up to the high standards we set for