Uh-oh, I thought. I knew I was eventually going to have to break the news to Sanjiv that I wasn’t going to be on the Mu Alpha Theta team—MATh for short—this year. I just hadn’t thought I’d have to do it before the first class on the first day of the school year had even begun.
“Um, actually, I’m not going to be on the MATh team this year,” I said. “Sorry.”
And I really was sorry. I hadn’t wanted to be on the team the previous year, either—long story, but basically the Geek High headmaster blackmailed me into it—but even so, I had grown fond of my MATh teammates over the year and I was proud that we’d won at State.
Sanjiv stared at me in horrified disbelief, his Adam’s apple bobbing furiously in his throat. “Not be on the team?” he croaked. “But you have to be! We can’t win State again without you!”
“I just can’t. I’m going to be writing for The Ampersand, which is a really big time commitment,” I said apologetically. “I don’t have any room in my schedule for MATh team.”
I’d been thrilled when I found out I’d gotten one of the few coveted spots on The Ampersand. In fact, it was the main reason I hadn’t moved to London to live with Sadie this year. My biggest dream was to someday be a writer. And not a writer like my mom, who wrote paperback novels featuring eighteenth-century heroines whose dresses were being pulled off by long-haired cads—not that there was anything wrong with writing to entertain. But I wanted to write something serious, something that would make a difference. I wanted to write the Great American Novel, in the tradition of John Steinbeck, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and J. D. Salinger. And as far as I was concerned, getting published in The Ampersand would be the first step toward this goal. I was hoping that if I got one of my short stories published in our prestigious school magazine, it might help me secure a spot at one of the top college writing programs.
“This can’t be happening. It can’t. It’s a nightmare. Does Leila know? Does Kyle?” Sanjiv moaned. Kyle and Leila were also on the MATh team, but they weren’t nearly as hard-core about it as Sanjiv. I was fairly sure they wouldn’t take my defection quite as badly as he was taking it.
“I don’t know,” I said apologetically.
Sanjiv lapsed into silence, his head on his hands, moaning occasionally. Embarrassed, I looked away. The new girl was sitting quietly on my other side, her laptop out, ready for class to begin. When I glanced over, she was looking in my direction, obviously eavesdropping on my conversation with Sanjiv. When I caught her eye, she flushed a dark red and looked away quickly, her shoulders hunching up.
“Hi,” I said. “I’m Miranda.”
The girl glanced back at me, as though wanting to make sure I was speaking to her. I smiled encouragingly.
“Hi,” she finally said. “I’m Nora.”
Finn was right: Nora was not a hottie, but I didn’t think she was unattractive. She was just plain, with unremarkable features—brown eyes, a slightly rounded nose, thin lips, mousy hair. Her best feature was her clear, ivory skin.
“You’re new here, right?” I said.
She nodded. “I just moved here from Boston.”
“Cool,” I said. “Did you go to a Geek High there, too?”
Nora looked at me blankly. I realized she hadn’t been here long enough to pick up the shorthand.
“Geek High is what everyone in town calls Notting Hill,” I explained. “Because of the IQ requirement to get in.”
“Oh,” Nora said, blushing again. “No. I went to a regular school. But I was in the Gifted and Talented program there.”
Before I could respond, Felicity Glen’s carrying voice cut across the room: “Oh, my God. Is that girl actually wearing Doc Martens? Does she think it’s 1993 or something?” she said, while Morgan snickered sycophantically.
I glared daggers at Felicity. She smirked back at me, causing me to indulge in a brief but satisfying fantasy of picturing what Felicity would look like if all of her hair fell out and her face was covered in angry red pimples.
“Ignore her,” I advised Nora. “Felicity is one hundred percent pure evil. Seriously, I’m pretty sure she spends her free time kicking kindergartners.”
But Nora had stopped blushing. Instead, all of the color had drained from her face, leaving her skin a sickly paper white. She stared down at her computer screen, blinking hard, as though she were fighting back tears. I tried to think of something comforting to say, but just then, Mrs. Gordon walked in, and a beat later, the bell rang, signaling the beginning of class.