I am a Genius of Unspeakable Evil and I Want to be Your Class Read Online Free PDF Page B

pointed straight at me. “Know what your problem is, Jumbo? No ambition. Here I give you the perfect opportunity to be president of the whole stupid class, and you’re too scared to even try. You make me sick,” she says venomously.
     
    “Uh-huh,” I say retardedly.
     
    “You got plenty of guts,” she adds. “It’s just they’re only the kind that jiggle around your middle.” She snatches the sandwich from my hands, takes a long, savage bite, then tosses the twisted crust into my lap. It oozes peanut butter and marshmallow fluff, like a crushed bug.
     
    Tatiana smirks and preens with feline satisfaction. She plucks up the collar of the pink cashmere sweater she won in a contest and saunters away. I watch her go through half-closed eyes. Ah, Tatiana. You vile, deceitful, mean-spirited little goddess. You will get what you deserve. Someday. 31
     
    “Don’t let her get to you.” Randy Sparks has walked over and has the presumption to give me a comforting pat on the back. I squeal with feigned pain, “Stop hitting me, Randy! It hurts!”
     
    Randy looks at his hand, amazed by his own strength. “But I was just—”
     
    “Child abuse! Child abuse!” I grab my lunch bag and sprint from the room. The laughter of the chimpanzees follows me out the door.
     
    It’s been an eventful day. The reason Tati’s so mad at me is because of what happened in homeroom this morning. My homeroom teacher, Lucy Sokolov, was leading us through the process of nominating candidates for student council. Ms. Sokolov is an intelligent but scary woman. She looks like someone stretched a thin layer of Silly Putty over a skeleton and slapped a red wig on top. My Research Department tells me she wants to be a novelist, but the publishing houses always reject her masterpieces. Which makes her mean. She takes out her thwarted ambitions on her students.
     
    After my more spineless classmates finished nominating each other for the more meaningless offices (secretary, treasurer), we got to the meat of the issue: nominations for class president. Naturally, five people nearly got into a fistfight in their eagerness to nominate Jack Chapman. Sokolov sorted that out, and the nomination was swiftly seconded. Then she asked Jack if he would accept the nomination.
     
    Every neck in the room twisted toward Jack, the best student in school, the wide-shouldered (but gentle) king of recess. Ah, Jack! That high Shakespearean brow. That broad masculine nose. He stared thoughtfully at his hands. Then he stood, paused, and nodded.
     
    I cannot describe this nod adequately. It was slow, impressive. It was the kind of nod Abraham Lincoln would give. It was the humble nod of a man who has not sought out a position of leadership but who will take on that dreaded responsibility if his community needs him. And it was suddenly understood by all that we did need him. Everyone in the room—Sokolov included—seemed to melt an inch in the presence of such magnificence.
     
    Everyone, that is, but me and Tatiana. Obviously, I’m too stupid to recognize greatness. Tatiana’s so mean she hates greatness when she sees it. Her hungry little arm snaked into the air, demanding Sokolov’s attention. 32 Sokolov frowned, confused. “What do you want, Miss Lopez?”
     
    Tati stood. Tight curls. Tiny teeth. Snub nose. Cinnamon skin. She opened her mouth and let out the words that would forever sully Jack Chapman’s moment of glory: “I nominate Oliver Watson for president.”
     
    The class, to its credit, was for once too disgusted to laugh. Sokolov looked like she’d been slapped with a fish. Tati threw me a mean wink and flounced down into her seat.
     
    Logan Michaels, a desperate and fat girl who occasionally functions as Tatiana’s slave, dutifully seconded my nomination. La Sokolova turned to me. “Oliver,” she said, with an expression on her face like she’d just bitten into a chocolate bar and found a toenail, “do you accept the