Geek High by Piper Banks Page B

idiot,” Charlie said furiously, “it’s your fault that she’s stuck with this thankless job in the first place. Do not make it worse than it already is!”
    â€œHey, I’m just keeping it real,” Finn said, raising his hands in mock protest. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”
    Charlie began to mutter dark threats about just what she’d do to the messenger if there weren’t laws in place to prevent it. Plus, she wanted to get into the Rhode Island School of Design, and I suspected they’d frown on admitting students with criminal records.
    â€œWhat if he’s right?” I asked, mournfully slurping at my iced latte through a red-and-white-striped straw. “The Snowflake probably is going to suck. It always does. And I really, really don’t want everyone to hate me.”
    I thought, but didn’t add, that I was feeling unpopular enough, considering how unwanted I was at my new home. Geek High was my last safe haven, the only place where I felt I truly belonged. I didn’t want to lose that sense of security.
    â€œDon’t worry,” Charlie said bracingly. “Finn and I will help you with the Snowflake. We’ll think of something. It will be the least lame Snowflake ever. I promise.”
    I smiled gratefully at her.
    â€œHey, I’ve got an idea,” Finn said.
    â€œWhat’s that?” I asked.
    â€œOne word,” Finn said. “Karaoke.”
    Charlie and I looked at him blankly.
    â€œKaraoke,” Finn said again.
    â€œWe heard you,” Charlie replied. “We just don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    â€œThat’s how to spice up the Snowflake. Rent a karaoke machine, and then sit back and watch as the whole school rocks out,” Finn said, looking pleased with himself.
    â€œKaraoke,” I repeated. “That’s what you come up with? Karaoke? ”
    â€œThat’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard,” Charlie said with a derisive sniff.
    â€œNo, it’s not. It’s an amazing idea,” Finn said, affronted. “In fact, it’s so amazing, you’re just jealous you didn’t think of it yourself.”
    â€œYeah, that’s it,” Charlie said, rolling her eyes. “And just when are people supposed to sing karaoke? In between the speakers?”
    â€œWhy not? And if any of the speakers decide to sing in lieu of giving their talk, well, all the better,” Finn enthused. “Trust me: It’s a brilliant idea.”
    â€œNo,” Charlie said, “it’s not.”
    â€œAnd why not?” Finn demanded.
    â€œIf you don’t automatically know the answer to that question, there’s nothing I can do to help you,” Charlie said sadly.
    Finn flicked his plastic coffee stirrer at her, and Charlie began to tell him off for splattering coffee on her favorite shirt. And I just slumped back in my chair, and, between sips of iced latte, tried to convince myself that things would get better. Eventually.
    They had to, right?

Chapter 12
    I avoided Peyton and Hannah at the beach house as much as I could. Peyton was always click-clacking off in her insanely high-heeled pumps to a work meeting, or a fund-raiser, or possibly to see her plastic surgeon for another Botox injection, which meant that she wasn’t around too often. Hannah was harder to dodge. The house had become a default clubhouse for her Barbie posse. Every day after school they’d appear, nonfat lattes in hand, and spread out all over the living room with copies of Vogue and Allure and InStyle . Their conversation revolved around clothes, makeup, and celebrity gossip. If the SATs covered what color eye shadow was hot this year or which starlet was dating the guy on that television show, these chicks would ace it.
    After school on Friday, I hung out at Grounded with Charlie and Finn, and then Charlie’s mom dropped me off at the beach house. (I would never think