Read Online Mission (Un)Popular by Anna Humphrey - Free Book Online

God,” I went on, seeing my opening. “I love rides. But not Ferris wheels. One time, my mom and I went on the one at Niagara Falls. And there was some kind of power outage. We got stuck right at the top for half an hour and I had to pee so badly. It so didn’t help that I was staring right at the biggest waterfall in the world.”
    â€œReally?” she said. “That’s funny.” But she didn’t sound like she thought it was funny at all. I could tell by the way she was looking down, a small smirk on her face, already flipping to the next photo.
    â€œOh.” I pointed. “Wonderland, right?” Erika went every year. I recognized the big fake mountain in the background. As I was pointing, though, my shirt rode up a little. I tugged it down quickly, but not before Michelle had caught a glimpse of the sparkly butterfly belt.
    â€œWow,” she remarked, raising her eyebrows. “I love your belt.”
    Now I could tell what it was that had changed: over the summer, Michelle had turned into a giant B-word.
    â€œYeah. Thanks. Anyway,” I said, taking the not-so-subtle hint and giving them another of my lame little waves. “Better go see some of my friends.” I shoved my hands into my pockets and walked away, hearing Michelle and her friend giggle softly behind me. Whatever, I thought. So she could sing harmonies and get a serve over the net. Big deal.
    I kept walking, trying to act like I had someplace definite to go. Two boys I didn’t recognize were having an arm wrestling match on the grass, so I stopped to watch next to these girls, Christine and Amanda.
    â€œHi,” I said, turning to Amanda. We hadn’t exactly been friends, but she and another girl named Kim had done a project about bugs with me and Erika in fifth grade. Basically all Amanda did was draw the bubble letters for the display, and she misspelled antennae , but we never complained to the teacher. She kind of owed me.
    â€œHi,” I said.
    She turned and squinted. I kept watching the arm wrestling match, which, by the way, was no contest. The smaller guy’s face was already turning so red I thought his head might pop. “Margaret, right?” she asked.
    â€œMargot.”
    â€œOh my God. I can’t believe I forgot your name. How many years were you in my class?”
    â€œI don’t know,” I answered, even though I did know. “Three maybe.”
    â€œThat’s so weird,” she said. I smiled, even though I didn’t really think it was weird, just kind of insulting. She turned her attention back to the match. All of a sudden she looked at me. “You did the ham thing, right?” My face froze. “I thought it was either you or that other girl called Margaret. Your names are practically the same.”
    I nodded.
    Just then, the bigger guy put the scrawny one out of his misery. “You suck, Tucker!” he shouted, jumping up and pumping his fist in victory. Christine and Amanda went over to talk to them, and I quietly stepped away.
    All around the yard people were standing in groups. Girls were squealing and hugging, comparing tan lines and new haircuts. And the guys, who suddenly looked so much older and taller, were standing with arms crossed, leaning against the fence, or shoving each other around.
    I spotted Andrew’s friends, Mike and Amir, across the yard, playing one-on-one on the basketball court. Amir looked up and waved, and I waved back gratefully and started to walk over. “Hey, Margot,” he said, passing the ball to Mike and coming to greet me.
    Amir is one of the only other brown-skinned kids in our grade, so you’d think we’d have something in common, but besides the fact that we’re both friends with Andrew, we really don’t. Sometimes he talks about religious stuff—like fasting for Ramadan, and celebrating Eid, like he expects me to be all interested, or asks me questions about my dad, but