Read Online The Clueless Girl's Guide to Being a Genius by Janice Repka - Free Book Online Page B

pink, salmon, shocking pink, tea rose, and thulium pink, just to name a few. Flamingo is my favorite.” She lifted the bottom of her black pants and showed me her flamingo pink socks.
    â€œCan I ask a question? I mean, if you like pink so much, why don’t you just wear it without worrying about if people can see it?”
    â€œLast time I did that, someone said I looked like a piece of bubblegum stuck in a cotton candy machine.” The words I had spoken sounded a lot meaner when she repeated them back to me. She added, “I assumed you were suggesting I not dress that way again.”
    â€œDo you always do things just because other people tell you to?” I asked. It was meant as one of those questions that you aren’t really supposed to answer, but she paused as if giving it deep thought.
    â€œUsually,” she said. “Do you think I should I stop?”
    I tried to match the insecure girl sipping root beer with my self-confident math teacher. “Can I ask you a question? Why do you act so different after school?”
    â€œI’m supposed to act like a teacher when I’m in class. I’m not supposed to act like me.”
    At first, that sounded pretty weird, but then when I thought about it, I realized what she meant. “Like when I’m at a baton competition,” I said. “I’m supposed to act like I’m having a great time, even if I have to do a split when I really need to pee, or if I accidentally send a hoop baton sailing into the crowd.”
    â€œSort of like that,” she said.
    We talked a while about how people expect you to act one way when you feel like acting another, and then I told her about the Baton Barn becoming a Cluck and Shuck, which she agreed was totally wrong. Then to blow some more time, I had her give me her hand so I could read her palm. Not that I was a real palm reader or anything, but since I did a lot of manicures Mom had shown me the location of the lines that were supposed to mean something. She said people would give extra tips if I spotted a long fame or luck line.
    â€œHere’s something,” I told Professor Wigglesmith. “Look at all the distance between your life line and your love line.”
    â€œIs that bad?” she asked.
    â€œI don’t know,” I answered. “This is usually when I try to make up something nice so I’ll get a good tip. Like, if you were a customer, I might say: It means you will soon find a new love to fill the space.” Speaking of love . . . In anticipation of Adam’s arrival, I got out my cherry-scented lip gloss and slathered it on. I also checked the polish on my nails.
    As I spun my fork, Professor Wigglesmith counted out loud the number of spins. She was one strange cookie, that Professor Wigglesmith. Not the kind of person I would normally hang out with, yet we got along just fine, even if I had only joined the team to be with Adam.
    â€œHave you ever wondered,” I asked, “what would have happened if you hadn’t been so smart? I mean, if you were just regular. You’d be an eighth grader at Carnegie Middle School, just like me. We might have even been friends.”
    â€œAren’t we friends now?” she asked.
    That took me by surprise. “You’re my teacher,” I said, setting the fork down. “That would be too weird.”
    Roland and Salvador stumbled in and found our table. “Did you order yet?” asked Salvador.
    Professor Wigglesmith smiled. “I’m having cheese fries and a killer burger.”
    â€œUgh! You’ve corrupted her,” said Roland.
    Salvador plopped beside me. “That seat’s saved for Adam,” I told him.
    He pretended to examine the chair. “I don’t see his name on it.”
    Boys! I remembered when we were in third grade and I thought Salvador was cute. He came up to me all sweet and innocent and asked if I wanted gum. I said yes and he pulled a wad out