“No way. I’ll be sick of all of you by then,” Finn said cheerfully. “Once we get our diplomas, you’ll never see me again. Unless it’s on the cover of People magazine, when I’m named Sexiest Man Alive.” He winked at me. “That’s one of my life goals.”
“It’s good to have goals,” I said.
“Well, if that’s the way you feel and if we really mean so little to you, why bother hanging out with us at all?” Charlie asked testily.
Finn looked at her, blinking with surprise. “Yeesh. I was just kidding. You know I love you guys.”
“Whatever.” Charlie looked around and spotted Padma Paswan heading into the school with Emma Cliff. “Hey, Padma! Wait up! I have to talk to you about something. See you later, Miranda.”
And with a swish of pink satin and black tulle, Charlie turned and jogged up the steps to join Padma and Emma.
“What was that about?” Finn asked, still looking bewildered. “What did I say?”
I shrugged. “Not sure,” I lied. “Maybe Charlie’s not a fan of People magazine.”
As Finn muttered under his breath about how he’d never understand girls, we headed up the stairs and into school together. It really was good to be back at old Geek High after the summer away. It was reassuring the way it never changed, from the stern-faced oil paintings of donors glaring down at us from the walls, to the worn oriental rugs in the front hall, to the large trophy case, which now held the Mu Alpha Theta State Championship trophy my MATh competition team won the previous spring. So much in my life had changed in the past year, what with my mom, Sadie, leaving for London, my moving in with my dad, meeting Dex, falling in love for the first time, and, finally, Dex leaving. It was nice to have something stay the same.
And then, just as this thought was flitting across my brain, I suddenly saw something different. Actually not something, but someone. A girl walking down the hall. She had mousy brown hair and was wearing a black T-shirt, faded cutoff jeans, black socks, and worn-looking black Doc Martens boots. The school was small, so whenever a new student came in, he or she always stood out. I had a feeling that this girl wouldn’t be happy to know that. She was tall—nearly as tall as me—but walked with her head down and her shoulders slumped forward, as though she were willing herself to become invisible.
Finn was still ranting about Charlie. “... and I swear she said something mean about Phoebe. I didn’t hear what it was exactly, but I can tell Charlie doesn’t like her. Has she said anything about Phoebe to you?”
“Look,” I said, poking Finn in the side to get his attention.
“What?”
“A new girl,” I said.
Finn perked up. “A new girl? Where?”
“Over there. Heading into the high school wing,” I said. “Do you see her? Over there in the black T-shirt.”
“Oh,” Finn said as he spotted her. From his tone, he was clearly underwhelmed. “Not a hottie.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t be a pig,” I said.
“I can’t help it,” Finn said with an unconcerned shrug. “As a wise man once said, I yam what I yam.”
“What wise man?” I asked suspiciously.
“Popeye,” Finn said.
Chapter Three
I had Nineteenth-Century American Literature first period. Neither Finn nor Charlie had signed up for the class—Charlie had an extra art period, and Finn’s exact words were, “I’d rather have my eyelashes plucked out one by one”—so I headed to Mrs. Gordon’s classroom alone. Many of the same students who’d been in her Modern Literature class last year had signed up for the class. Padma and Emma were both there, along with Tate Metcalf, Sanjiv Gupta, Christopher Frost, and Tabitha Stone. Unfortunately, Felicity Glen was also in the class, along with her equally annoying best friend, Morgan Simpson.
The seats, which were arranged in a semicircle, were already mostly full. There was an empty desk next to Felicity, but there was no way I was sitting next to her. I glanced around and spotted an empty seat between Sanjiv and the new girl. I swallowed back a sigh. Sitting next to Sanjiv wasn’t much of an improvement over Felicity—he was a stress case and obsessed with the Mu Alpha Theta competition team—but at least Sanjiv wouldn’t spend the period hurling whispered insults at me. It was an easy choice.
“Hi, Sanjiv,” I said, sitting down at the empty desk next to his.
Sanjiv had gotten even taller and ganglier over the summer, and his Adam’s apple had grown more prominent. He pushed his oversized, metal-rimmed glasses up his nose, and said, “Hi, Miranda. The first MATh team meeting is being held this Thursday.”