Free Mission (Un)Popular by Anna Humphrey Page A

I’d be able to see over Erik Frallen’s math-genius head to get a glimpse of George, but there were too many other people in the way. In fact, I realized with sinking hopes, Gorgeous George and I were standing about as far apart as we could get while still being in the same class. He, of course, was on the side of ultimate coolness. I was somewhere beyond Erik Frallen’s giant head.
    â€œAnd last but not least, Emily Warner,” Mrs. Vandanhoover called. “Welcome, Emily,” she said, and a girl sitting at the back of the gym stood up and unwisely (unknowingly) walked over to the cool side of the class. It took me about two seconds to realize she was the girl from the self-esteem workshop: the rebellious, spunky, smart Sagittarius with bleached-blond hair. I tried to catch her eye to see if she recognized me, but she was looking the other way.
    Mrs. Collins called for everyone to please follow her, and I waved to Andrew. He ran a finger down his cheek like a pretend tear, but I just shrugged in response. We’d see each other at lunch anyway. He shrugged back, agreeing.
    Or at least I thought that was what he was agreeing to. But as Mrs. Collins led the way out of the gym, and I turned to wave to Andrew one last time, Ken Shapiro, of the farting armpits, purposely kneed Simon Sable in the back of his legs for no good reason, causing him to lose his balance. He bumped into Laura, who tripped and stumbled into Cameron Ruling. He nearly groped Tiffany Abraham by mistake, making her jump back in surprise and crash into Erik. It went through the class like a chain reaction, ending with me and Amir both getting shoved hard in the back. Maybe, I realized, Andrew hadn’t been crying about missing me at all. Maybe it was more of a symbolic show of sympathy. Maybe he knew as well as I did that Seven-A was going to be a very dangerous place, and that I was officially, unquestionably doomed.

6
I Am the World’s Saddest Supermodel
    B Y THE END OF FIRST period it was official: my new teacher hated my guts.
    It turned out Mrs. Collins’s room was in the basement, which had to be the most depressing place in all of Manning. It was dark and dreary with small windows way up high, just at ground level, so all you could see were people’s shoes, and that was if you were lucky enough that someone was walking past.
    To disguise how dismal it was, Mrs. Collins had plastered the walls with inspirational quotes and pictures of authors looking thoughtful. Cutout letters on the bulletin board spelled: LET’S MAKE LEARNING FUN FOR EVERYONE !
    Even the i ♥ the public school system coffee mug on her desk seemed too cheerful to be real.
    â€œYou’ll find a name tag on the desk that’s been assigned to you,” Mrs. Collins instructed as we funneled through the door.
    â€œPlease stick it on your shirt and wear it for the rest of the day so all your new teachers can get to know you.”
    Most kids were still standing around in groups, talking to their friends, but since I didn’t really have anyone to talk to besides Amir, I found my desk pretty quickly. I sighed a little when I saw that my name had been spelled “Margo.”
    â€œMrs. Collins?” I raised my hand politely. “You spelled my name wrong. I’m Margot Button. Margot is supposed to have a T at the end.”
    She glanced down at some papers on her desk. “Oh. It wasn’t spelled with a T on the class list,” she said pleasantly, then went back to shuffling her papers.
    â€œBut it has a T in real life,” I pointed out. “Like, on my birth certificate.”
    She looked up again, stretching her red lips into a grin. “Well, you’re in seventh grade now. I’m sure you know how to write the letter T.” She smiled even more tightly. “I’m sure you have a pen.”
    â€œI’m sure you have a pen.” I mimicked her perky voice under my breath as I dug around in