by Holly Smale
Because they’ve all sugar cookied off.
ell,” I say after an embarrassed silence. There’s still a door swinging, and if I listen very hard, I can hear the distant sound of my loved ones betraying me. “Everyone was here a minute ago.” I cough a couple of times.
“I’m still here,” Wilbur points out, standing up slowly and putting his top hat back on. “And wouldn’t you know it, my little Chuckle-bum, Nick is here too. What a coincidence.”
My cheeks are bright pink and when I glance at Nick, I notice with a spark of surprise that his cheeks are starting to… It must be a trick of the light. It’s very dark in here.
“Well,” I say, squeezing out the most unnatural laugh I’ve ever heard. “I guess we do work for the same person.”
“And why is that, do you think?” Wilbur shifts his pose so that his chin’s on his hand, like Rodin’s The Thinker statue. “Nick? Any idea?”
Nick coughs too. “Nope. No idea at all.”
Wilbur gives him a stern look. “So what was the point in doing all that Jane Austen stuff if she doesn’t know about it, Poodle-bottom?”
The blush drains out of my body so quickly my head feels like it might float away. “W-what?” I manage to stammer.
“Nothing.” Nick glares at Wilbur. “Have you been sniffing glitter again?”
“Harriet, my Baby-baby Panda,” Wilbur says, rolling his eyes and sticking his tongue out at Nick. “I didn’t discover you, honey, Nick did. Yuka recruited him to find the female face for the collection and then you fell into that hat stall… And the rest, as they say, is geography.”
“History,” I correct automatically.
“Yes,” Wilbur agrees gravely. “His story indeed. Nick pointed you out to me, Nick gave your photos to Yuka and Nick said you’d be perfect for the campaign in Russia. With – as it just so happened – him.”
I can’t really breathe any more. Nick is the reason I’m here?
“But the table…” I say in confusion. “The pavement…”
“The table was a coincidence,” Nick sighs, visibly giving up. “You just happened to crawl under there. How was I to know you’d dive under it? Normal people don’t do that and wannabe models definitely don’t.” He laughs. “And the pavement… I came to get you. I knew you’d freak out.”
“But…” My head still feels like a helium balloon. “Why?”
Nick looks blank. “Because you always freak out.”
I shake my head. My voice feels like I’ve swallowed it. “I mean, why do you care if I freak out?”
There’s a long silence.
“Well,” Wilbur finally bursts, “I can take a shot in the dark, if you want.”
“Seriously,” Nick snaps, making his fingers into a gun shape. “I’m going to take a shot in the dark in a minute and it will make contact.”
Wilbur looks charmed. “Isn’t he adorable?” he says fondly. “My duty as Fairy Godmother is complete, anyhoo, and I believe it’s time to spread my magic dust elsewhere. So many pumpkins after all; so little time.” And Wilbur makes a few skipping steps backwards, takes a little bow and disappears with a dramatic flourish behind the door.
I’m going to pretend – simply for the sake of this moment – that I can’t hear whispering on the other side of it.
There’s a long silence. “I like you,” Nick says finally. He’s still speaking slowly, but the laziness that is always there seems to have disappeared. My whole body feels like it has a light bulb in it.
He likes me?
Lion Boy likes me?
“But… Why?” I manage to stutter.
Nick shrugs. “You’re different.”
I frown at him. “Good different or bad different?”
He grins. “Good,” he says. “And bad. But even the bad bits are good different and they always make me laugh.”
“That makes no rational sense at all,” I tell him, crossing my arms. “There are 6,840,507,003 different people in the world. You clearly just haven’t met that many.”
“I’ve met enough,” he says, twinkling at me and taking a step forward. His cheeks have gone pink now as well. I didn’t know it could happen to boys.
A human heart is supposed to beat between sixty and ninety times a minute, while resting. A hedgehog’s heart beats up to 300 times a minute when standing still. Honestly, I think I might be turning into a hedgehog.
Oh, God. Is he going to kiss me? It’s my first kiss. My first… anything.
I haven’t brushed my teeth for hours and hours.
“Are you sure you don’t want to meet a few more before—” I start and then I hear the door behind me open.
“Harriet? It’s Toby.” I turn round and only his fluffy head is visible. “I just want to reassure you that I am fine with this development. Fifty-three per cent of all marriages in the UK end in divorce and so statistics are actually on my side.”
“Shut up, Toby,” Nat says and I see a hand reach round and yank Toby back behind the door. Then the hand reappears, gives me a thumbs up and disappears again.
I look at Nick and clear my throat. I’m not a hedgehog any more. I’m a rabbit: 325 beats per minute.
Nick takes another step.
Now I’m a mouse: 500 beats a minute.
Another step.
A hummingbird: 1,260 beats.
And as he leans forward, all I can think is the following realisation: nobody really metamorphoses. Cinderella is always Cinderella, just in a nicer dress. The Ugly Duckling was always a swan, just a smaller version. And I bet the tadpole and the caterpillar still feel the same, even when they’re jumping and flying, swimming and floating.
Just like I am now.
And in the fraction of time before Nick kisses me and every other thought in my head explodes, I realise: I didn’t need to transform after all.
My name is Harriet Manners and I am a geek.
And maybe that’s not so bad after all.
Acknowledgements
Thanks to Dad – a constant source of inspiration, encouragement and laughter – and Mum, for “doing the voices” at bedtime. Thanks to my little sister, Tara, for a lifetime of believing I’m better than I am; to Grandma and Grandad, for their never-ending wisdom and support and supplies of Jaffa Cakes; to Aunty Judith, who read the first few chapters and gave me the confidence to keep going. Thanks also to Hel, for reminding me to “write what I know”. It shortened the process significantly.
Thanks to my agent, Kate Shaw, who rescued Harriet and has fought patiently and valiantly for both of us ever since; to Pippa Le Quesne, a wise guiding hand not unlike a literary Gandalf; to Lizzie Clifford, the most brilliant and sensitive editor a writer could ask for. Thanks also to the entire team at HarperCollins, for embracing geeks so warmly and wholeheartedly.
Finally, there is one person without whom this book would not exist: my very own “Alexa”. You gave me a reason to write Geek Girl, and I will always be grateful.
Thank you. x
About the Author
Holly Smale is a debut author. Clumsy, a bit geeky and somewhat shy, she spent the majority of her teenage years hiding in the changing room toilets. She was unexpectedly spotted by a top London modelling agency at the age of fifteen and spent the following two years falling over on catwalks, going bright red and breaking things she couldn’t afford to replace. By the time Holly had graduated from Bristol University with a BA in English Literature and an MA in Shakespeare she had given up modelling and set herself on the path to becoming a writer. Holly is now a fully fledged author and blogger and is currently writing the sequel to Geek Girl.
Copyright
First published in paperback in Great Britain
by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2013
HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd,
77-85 Fulham Palace Road, Hammersmith, London, W6 8JB.
The HarperCollins website address is: www.harpercollins.co.uk
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br /> Copyright © Holly Smale 2013
ISBN 978-0-00-748944-2
Epub Edition © FEBRUARY 2013 ISBN: 9780007489459
Epub Version 1
Holly Smale asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of the work.
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