Geek Drama
Page 10
My baby sister clearly didn’t, because she gurgles happily at this brand new and unprecedented information. Then I reach over her fluffy head to grab a hard-boiled version of the latter from the table.
“Harriet,” my stepmother says.
“And we’ll each eat thirty-six pigs,” I continue as I start peeling the egg with one hand. “And thirty-six sheep.”
“Harriet.”
“And eight cows.”
“Harriet.”
“And ten thousand chocolate bars.” I pause with the egg half way to my mouth. “I think I may have eaten my rations for that already, though. Maybe I should become a vegetarian to balance it back out again.”
A hand lands on my arm.
“Good morning, Annabel. How did you sleep? I’m fine, thank you. Isn’t it a beautiful day today? Thanks for making me breakfast, even though I am now leaving bits of shell all over the kitchen floor for you to clean up.”
I blink at my stepmother a few times, then at Dad.
“Why is Annabel talking to herself?”
“She’s an alien unsuccessfully trying to fit in with the rest of the human race,” Dad says knowingly, dipping a bit of toast in egg yolk and then dripping it on the table. “Is there anything in there to help us figure out what she wants with us poor earthlings before she sucks our brains out with her tentacles?”
I start flicking eagerly through the chunky fact book in my hand. There are 729 pages and I’m only thirteen-twentieths of the way through, so there’s almost definitely some kind of precedent.
Or in the very least something interesting about spaceships.
“Sadly, all signs suggest that yours is already gone, Richard,” Annabel says grimly. “So I’m probably going to starve.”
Then she pulls a chair out and gestures at it.
“Put your fact book down, Harriet, and have some breakfast. None of us have heard a sensible word out of you for the last 24 hours.”
I don’t know what my stepmother is talking about. Every single sentence I’ve said has been scientifically and historically accurate. There’s a bibliography proving it in the back.
I shove a piece of toast into my mouth.
“Can’t,” I say through a spray of buttered carbohydrates. “No time. Things to learn, places to go, kindred spirits to meet.”
I stomp quickly into the hallway and grab my satchel from the corner whilst simultaneously discovering that the longest ever recorded chicken flight was thirteen seconds.
“Look how awesome she is,” Dad says proudly as I open the front door. “That’s my daughter, Annabel. My genetics, right there. Harriet Manners: model and style icon. Fashion legend. Sartorial maverick extraordinaire.”
I stick one ear-phone in.
“Harriet,” Annabel says. “Hang on a second. Where are you going?”
I’m not entirely sure how I’ll use the chicken information, by the way. Not everything I read is potentially useful or relevant, even to me.
“School!” I put the other speaker in my ear. Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake starts blaring out at full volume. “See you this evening!”
And my first day as a proper Sixth Former begins.
So, I’ve done a little studying on the art of making new friends and there appear to be a few basic rules. I’ve boiled it down to the following:
Find as many things in common as possible
Smile and laugh lots (this indicates a sunny and welcoming personality)
Ask questions
Remember details
Be patient and don’t give up
In sixteen years I’ve successfully made just three companions: my own stalker, Toby, a Japanese model called Rin who would happily befriend a sausage and my Best Friend Nat, who was five when we met and literally couldn’t have less in common with me if we tried.
So I think it’s fair to say I need all the advice I can get.
The way I see it, the fact book in my hand isn’t just fascinating trivia, relevant to the trials and tribulations of daily living (which it also is). It’s a bridge between me and other people. With these scientifically proven nuggets of information, I’ll be able to find things in common with everyone.
Oh, you like tennis? Well, did you know that the longest ever match lasted eleven hours? You’re a big fan of keeping fit? The most push-ups ever performed in one day was 46,001!
You have a cat? Between them they kill more than 57 million creatures a year in the UK alone!
It doesn’t matter whether it’s film, or sport, or songs, or animals, or a fondness for fizzy drinks (they dissolve teeth!): somehow, I’ll be able to find a connection. A link between me and them. Something to pull us together.
All friendships require is focus and dedication.
And a little bit of knowledge.
I learn all about crocodiles as I wander down the road to school and past the bench where Nat usually meets me.
Caterpillars get a brief look-over as I quickly glance around for Toby –there’s no sign of him – and pull my phone out of my pocket to check for texts (none).
US Presidents fill in the gap as I clumsily open and walk through the school gates, and the world’s largest lakes occupy me through the stiff front door and down the silent corridor into my empty classroom.
Then I take a seat, turn to a page about fish and wait.
I’ve specifically chosen to get to school early today so I’ll have plenty of time to adjust before my new form arrives. Thanks to living in America for the first three weeks of term – being tortured by a fake tutor – I really need the extra time. This way, I can acclimatise, cram some last-minute knowledge in and maybe stop my stomach from rolling over and over like a sick guppy while I’m at it.
Nervously, I clutch the book as tightly as I can.
Focus, Harriet.
The largest species of seahorse is 20 centimetres long. Fish can taste through their tails and fins. A tropical marine fish could survive in a tank full of human blood and —
“Harriet Manners?”
I swallow. This is it. This is where my new beginning starts. Be cool, Harriet. Be casual. Be as full of relevant-yet-breezy casual information as is physically possible.
With a deep breath, I plaster on my biggest and friendliest smile and put my book down.
“Good morning,” I say in my brightest voice. “It’s super nice to meet y—”
Then I stop.
Because standing in front of me is a group of fully-grown adults, holding clip-boards and pens.
And every single one of them is staring at me.
About the Author
Holly Smale is the author of Geek Girl, Model Misfit, Picture Perfect and All That Glitters. She was unexpectedly spotted by a top London modelling agency at the age of fifteen and spent the following two years falling over on catwalks, going bright red and breaking things she couldn’t afford to replace. By the time Holly had graduated from Bristol University with a BA in English Literature and an MA in Shakespeare she had given up modelling and set herself on the path to becoming a writer.
Geek Girl was the number-one bestselling young-adult fiction title in the UK in 2013. It was shortlisted for several major awards including the Roald Dahl Funny Prize and the Branford Boase award, nominated for the Queen of Teen Award and won the teen and young adult category of the Waterstones Children’s Book Prize and the 11–14 category of the Leeds Book Award.
www.facebook.com/geekgirlseries
Also by Holly Smale
Geek Girl
Geek Girl: Model Misfit
Geek Girl: Picture Perfect
Geek Girl: All That Glitters
About the Publisher
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United Kingdom
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