Geek Chic Read Online Free PDF Page A

slash Gym and is, once again, last in the Harry S. Hot-Lunch Lunch Line.
    Mrs. Pappazian was not interested in hearing what Jazz told Zoey.
    Not one little bit.
    (See previous chapter: “That hat’s a keeper, Ray.”)
    Now, besides all the turkey sandwiches with or without mayo (no tomato) already gone and one incredible bedhead, Zoey also has one incredible hathead. Even Mrs. Salerno, with the mustache that stopsHST Hot-Lunch Lunch Line traffic, is left grumbleless when she sees Zoey and her hair pass by.
    The spoon known simply as Super Salerno, filled with a jellied Medley of the Unknown Green Vegetables, misses the plate.
    And then …
    ACT 1: Scene 2
    Zoey sees Ashley.
    Ashley sees Zoey.
    Their eyes meet as they both reach for the last chocolate chip cookie.
    ZOEY:
    You can have it. I’m really more a chewy oatmeal raisin person.
    Ashley doesn’t speak.
    She only stares, but she does take the cookie.
    ACT 1: Scene 3
    The two pass the official LUNCH LIST NAME CHECKER checkpoint.
    The Table Bashley in all its coolness is only steps away. …
    ZOEY:
    Taking those photographs this morning with you and Brittany for the magazine was fun.
    ASHLEY:
    With you and your geeky sneakers, freaky bowling shirt, owl pellets, frog pictures, weird hat, and Louisa May whoever?
    … You thought.
    You probably ruined all of our chances to have our pictures in the magazine. You better not be in any of our pictures … RAY.
    Not to be continued.
    THE END.

Nine
    Table Ten.
    “If you want, you can use my hat, Zoey,” says Walter Colson.
    I take it.
    But I can only wear it when the All-Purpose Room is the slash Gym and not the slash Lunchroom. Unfortunately, that’s not today.
    We don’t have phys ed.
    I know.
    This is a short one.
    Makes up for number two.
    (I’m calling it chapter averaging.)
    z.z.

    This is sort of a brain break from all the drama.
(I know. It’s getting very intense.)
    When my grandparents take me to see a play in New York City and it’s the end of Act 1, all of a sudden the orchestra goes

    and the curtain comes down, the lights go up, and then everybody goes to the bathroom or gets a candy bar.
(Just so you know—you don’t have much of a chance of doing either in New York, because the lines are like forever.
    But you can do whatever you want here.)
    You can also think of this as the seventh-inning stretch—which, incidentally, was started by President Taft, who one time stood up after the top half of the seventh inning during a baseball game to stretch his legs, and everybody else did the same thing.
    So … stretch.
    (It’s amazing what you can find out by doing extra credit.)
    And now …
    back to the story.

Ten
    157 days to you-know-what.
    No you-know-who.
    I know. You’re probably asking,
    “What happened to all of those days in between?”
    Nothing.
    Do you know how sometimes when you’re reading a book, you come to the middle or after the middle, and you say to yourself, “Huh?” or “Boring,” or “Snooze. Nothing is happening”?
    This is one of those parts.
    But if you really want to read boring stuff, well, okay. Here it is.
    CAUTION: The following may cause drowsiness. Read at your own risk. Permission to skip ahead.
    1. I tried hair gel.
It was a fiasco.
fi • as • co
pronunciation: fE-as-kO
: a complete failure
    2. Luckily, Mrs. Pappazian returned the fedora.
    3. Alex Shemtob said he loved me …
when my hair was gelled!
(I know—I know—I know.)
    He told me in science class as we were dissecting an owl pellet. Our yellow plastic tweezers, technically called forceps, touched as we discovereda mouse tibia at the same time.
    Then he gave me a green HB pencil.
    My stomach felt all icky and my face got hot. I didn’t know if it was because of the owl pellet, discovering a mouse bone, or Alex.
    My mother said when I get older
(and I’m pretty sure she means older than eleven)
, I will remember it as romantic and sweet.
(Yes, she really said that.)
    TMI.
    I don’t want to think about