Free Geek High by Piper Banks

walked straight out of a shampoo commercial, whereas I was the girl who possessed a nose so large, it inspired discussions of rhinoplasty. Well, okay, one discussion, but still. Surely no one had ever told Hannah she needed plastic surgery.
    â€œI almost sent Hannah to Notting Hill, but then decided that I’d prefer she have the experience of a more traditional school,” Peyton said.
    I turned to stare at her. For one thing, I’d never heard this before. And for another, just that afternoon I’d overheard Hannah informing her friends that Chicago was (a) a state, and (b) located next to California. There was no way she’d ever have gotten into Geek High.
    Wait…unless that was just it. Had Hannah applied to Geek High and not gotten in? It would certainly explain a lot of Peyton’s hostility. She was the most competitive woman alive. It wasn’t enough that Hannah was prettier than me, and had a killer body, and was insanely popular…of course Peyton would want her to be smarter than me, too.
    But as I looked up at Emmett, who was beaming down at Hannah while she giggled up at him and flirtatiously tossed her hair over one shoulder, I started to feel a little sick.
    People say that it’s who you are on the inside that counts, and that being smart and thoughtful is far more important than being pretty. But that just isn’t true. The pretty girls always beat out the smart girls. Always.

Chapter 8
    I told Charlie about the horrible Emmett/Hannah flirtation the next day before mod lit began, keeping my voice low so that nobody—particularly the Felimonster—would overhear us.
    â€œWait…go back to the part where your stepmonster said you needed plastic surgery,” Charlie said, outraged on my behalf.
    â€œThat’s not the important part of the story,” I said. Which was saying something, since normally I’m more than happy to run Peyton down. “The important part is where you-know-who was totally into the Demon Spawn.”
    Charlie just shook her head sadly and gazed at me with the sort of pity she normally reserves for contestants on The Bachelor .
    â€œMiranda, I think you really need to take some time to work on your self-esteem,” she said.
    â€œAre you even listening to me?” I asked. “This is a nightmare. A total nightmare.”
    â€œPerspective time. A guy whom you hardly know, and yet have somehow persuaded yourself that you’re in love with, spoke to Hannah. I don’t think that quite reaches nightmare proportions,” Charlie said.
    And even though deep down I knew she was right, her condescending tone still irritated me. Just because Charlie has never truly fallen for anyone, and so has never experienced how it throws your entire life into chaos, she thought she was above the whole thing.
    â€œHey, Miranda,” a voice said.
    I’d been so distracted by Charlie’s annoying armchair psychoanalysis, I hadn’t noticed that someone was hovering just in front of my desk…and, more important, that the somebody was Emmett. For the second straight day in a row, he’d crossed a room to talk to me! Had I been wrong to assume he was interested in Hannah? Was it possible…could it be…that maybe, just maybe, he’d been nice to Hannah only for my sake? After all, Emmett didn’t know that Hannah and I despised each other.
    â€œOh. Um. H-hi, Emmett,” I stuttered, wondering if he could actually hear my heart galloping away at full speed.
    â€œHow was your dinner last night?”
    â€œMy steak was too rare. I had to send it back.”
    My steak was too rare? I had to send it back? What was I saying? I sounded like an idiot. Why was it that my supposed genius-level IQ seemed to drop to that of a not-very-bright shoe whenever I was around Emmett?
    â€œI was wondering…that girl you were with,” Emmett began. “Hannah, right? So…is she seeing anyone?”
    And