Free How to Be Popular by Meg Cabot

venture—he was taking in my sheer thigh-highs.
    Either way, our gazes met as I hurried by.
    I smiled and said, “Hi, Mark. Hope you had a good summer.”
    They were the first words I’d ever spoken to Mark Finley in my life.
    And I think they had the desired effect. Because as I breezed past him, I heard him go, “Who was that?” and heard Lauren hiss, “That was Steph Landry, you retard.”
    Oh yeah. I’d pulled a Steph, all right.
    And for the first time in my life, I felt GREAT about it.

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    Now that your wardrobe needs have been taken care of, it’s time to work on your personality.
    Are you outgoing? A “people” person? If not, you CAN become one.

    How?

    By enrolling in clubs and activities for which you feel enthusiastic.

    People are drawn to those who have the ability to make them feel excited—whether about a car wash, a weenie roast, or a sock hop!

    So sign up now for as many school social activities as you can fit into your schedule…. Then show your school spirit!

    Enthusiasm is contagious, and soon YOU will be, too.
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Nine
    STILL D - DAY
MONDAY , AUGUST 28, 11 A . M .
    “This is so lame,” Jason said as he started for our traditional places in the last row of the auditorium, where, last year, it had been my idea to roll soda cans down the entire length of the room during the student government’s speeches. Since the floor is cement, they’d made an extremely satisfying racket.
    No one had even suspected us, because we’re such good students. Ms. Wampler yelled at some totally innocent guys in the row in front of us, just because they were horticulture (i.e., not college-bound) students. She’d have given them detention, too, if at the exact right moment I hadn’t let loose one of my Diet Coke cans, causing Swampy’s face to turn bright red as she shrieked, “WHO IS DOING THAT?”
    I got a stitch in my side from laughing so hard.
    “I’ve got an idea,” I said before Jason could flop into a seat. “Let’s sit closer.”
    Enthusiasm is contagious, all right. Becca was like, “Oh my gosh! Is this part of a criminal master plot?”
    “Uh,” I said. “Yeah.”
    “How’m I going to be able to roll my Coke can down the aisle if we’re up front?” Jason wanted to know.
    “You’re not,” I explained, selecting three empty seats just a few rows from the stage.
    “Whatever your plan is,” Jason said when he saw how close the seats were to where Ms. Wampler and the other school administrators were standing, “it better be worth it. We’re going to have to, like, pay attention.”
    “Exactly,” I said, and took the seat on the aisle.
    “I don’t get it,” Jason said, shaking his head. “First the hair, then the socks, now this. Did you suffer a concussion this summer that I didn’t know about?”
    “Shhh,” I said, because Ms. Wampler was starting the convocation. Which is what they call it at Bloomville High when we all gather in the auditorium to listen to ex–drug addicts and people who killed their friends in drunk driving accidents talk about their experiences.
    While Swampy tried to get everyone to settle down (by saying, “Settle down, people. Now, people. Please settle down,” over and over into the microphone at the podium), I watched as the A-crowd filed in and started filling up the first few rows in front of us. There was Alyssa Krueger, in Juicy Couture jeans and a glittery top, riding into the auditorium on Sean de Marco’s broadshoulders, laughing hysterically.
    There was Bebe Johnson, chattering away in her unnaturally high voice about nothing, as was her custom.
    There was Darlene Staggs, surrounded by guys, as usual. One of them seemed to say something she found amusing, since she threw back her head and laughed, her honey-blond hair cascading like a waterfall down the back of her seat. All the other guys watched her truly magnificent chest as she jiggled. I mean, giggled.
    And then, just before the bell rang, in came Lauren Moffat, hand in