How to Be Popular

by Meg Cabot

  “Right,” Mark said with his trademark lopsided grin. “Seven thousand nine hundred and twenty-three dollars. I just wanted to say thanks. I mean, that’s more money than last year’s senior class managed to raise all year, and here it is still the first week of school.”

  God. Was it really only the first week of school? It seemed like it had been AGES since I’d first walked down this hallway in my navy blue thigh-highs and said hi to Mark as if I were a real person, not the social pariah I used to be.

  “And I owe it all to you,” Mark went on. “So…really. Thanks, Stephanie.”

  And then he leaned down and kissed me on the cheek.

  Just as Alyssa Krueger went scuttling by on her way to the girls’ room to repair the mascara rings under her eyes, since she’d apparently been crying…again.

  It’s funny, but there was a time when the thought of Mark Finley kissing me—even on the cheek—would just about have made my heart explode.

  But today when it actually happened, I was just like—whatever.

  What’s happening to me?

  I wonder if Jason and Becca used tongue.

  * * *

  Warning

  Worrying too much about being popular can make you unpopular!

  Don’t forget—everyone wants to be in the “cool crowd.” But the truth is, if you spend all your time worrying about being popular, rather than simply enjoying yourself and your friends, then you will be missing out on all the fun you could be having. Plus, no one likes hanging out with a worrywart!

  So don’t put too much pressure on yourself to be popular. It’s more important to have fun.

  * * *

  Twenty-six

  STILL DAY FIVE OF POPULARITY

  FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 1, 1 P.M.

  Well. It happened. They warned me, but I didn’t believe them.

  I couldn’t face the lunchroom today. I don’t know why. I just…I couldn’t do it. It was nothing against Darlene. It was more…see, I was afraid that if I sat there and Becca didn’t show up, I’d know she was with Jason and that it was true, about them being a couple now.

  And that just made me feel like I was going to throw up for some reason.

  So I grabbed a PowerBar and some diet soda from the machines by the gym, and took off for the library, since it was too rainy to eat outside. Besides, I figured no one I knew was a big enough loser to be eating in the library, so I’d be safe.

  I was wrong.

  Because sitting there, right where I’d been going to sit, in the study carrel in the biography section, where no one ever, ever went, was Alyssa Krueger.

  I was going to sneak quietly away, but she saw me.

  And lowered her own PowerBar and said, “Well, if it isn’t Steph Landry,” in a very unfriendly voice.

  She didn’t even bother whispering. That’s because no one ever goes into the Bloomville High library, including the librarians, who are always in the back office, since they never actually have any customers, unless an English teacher makes her class go there to learn about the Dewey decimal system, or whatever.

  “Look, Alyssa,” I said, trying to remember The Book’s advice on dealing with enemies. Empathy. It was all about empathy. “There’s no sense blaming me for what happened between you and Lauren. You shouldn’t have written that note to me.”

  “Lauren wrote it,” Alyssa said bitterly.

  “I know Lauren wrote it,” I said. “You shouldn’t have taken the blame for it. You should have told Mark the truth.”

  “Oh, right,” Alyssa said, looking incredulous. “And then Lauren and I both could be eating in here, instead of the caf.”

  I pulled out a chair from a neighboring study carrel and sat down in it.

  “If she were really your friend in the first place,” I said, “she’d be in here with you now.”

  Alyssa’s eyes filled up with tears. “I know,” she said with a sob. “Do you think I don’t know that? She’s such a bitch.” Alyssa threw down her PowerBar, unable to eat any more. “What am I telling you that for? You know. You’ve been a daily recipient of her bitchiness for the past—what is it now? Since you spilled that drink on her?”

  “Almost five years,” I said.

  “Right. And now look at you.”

  I looked down at myself. I had on a pair of my slim-fit cords and a sweater set, because it was supposed to rain all day and cool things off a little…just in time for Grandpa and Kitty’s wedding tomorrow. I’d checked the Weather Channel that morning and was relieved to find they were predicting clear skies for Saturday.

  “Not what you have on,” Alyssa said scornfully. “Your social standing. I mean, I saw Mark Finley kiss you this morning.”

  I took a bite of my own PowerBar. “Yeah,” I said. “On the cheek. Big deal.”

  “He likes you, though,” Alyssa said. “Seriously. He told Lauren. He thinks you’re nice.”

  She said it like it was a dirty word.

  “I am nice,” I said. Then I remembered all the times I’d watched Jason get undressed through my Bazooka Joe binoculars. And the sugar I’d sprinkled in Lauren’s hair. “Well, most of the time, anyway.”

  “I know,” Alyssa said. “That’s why Lauren’s flipping out. Because you’re making her look bad. In front of Mark.”

  “Lauren’s making herself look bad in front of Mark,” I corrected her.

  “And then when you did that thing last night, where you outbid her for him—I mean, his sponsorship, for your bookstore, or whatever. I heard her later, in the girls’ room. She was practically frothing at the mouth, she was so mad. She said she’s going to get you, you know.”

  I took another bite of my PowerBar. “Oh, right,” I said with my mouth full, even though The Book says bad table manners can keep you from becoming popular. “What can she possibly do to me that she hasn’t already done?”

  “I don’t know,” Alyssa said, her eyes red-rimmed and still teary. “But I’d watch out if I were you. Because I was her best friend, and look what she’s done to me.”

  “Alyssa,” I said. “You’re only in this position because you LET her do this to you. If you’d just stand up and fight her—if everyone in this school would just stand up and fight her—”

  “You’re crazy,” Alyssa said, wadding the remains of her lunch into a tight little ball, and standing up. “You know that, Steph? No one stands up to Lauren Moffat. Not even you.”

  “Excuse me,” I said, swallowing. “What do you think I’ve been doing all week?”

  “That’s not standing up to her,” Alyssa said. “That’s playing her game her way. And you know what? You’re going to lose. Because she’s going to find a way—some vulnerable spot you don’t even know you have—to get you, to make you look bad in front of all these new friends of yours. And then you’re going to be right back where you started. You mark my words.”

  And with that, Alyssa left.

  I thought about what she said the whole time I was finishing my PowerBar. But the truth was, I just couldn’t see it happening. Lauren finding some way to pull the popularity rug out from under me, I mean. Because there was just no weapon she had that she could use against me. If anything, I had the upper hand. Because now I knew that Mark liked me.

  And that Lauren was upset about it.

  I was feeling pretty good about myself as I finished my lunch and got up to go…

  Until I noticed who’d been sitting in a third study carrel, not ten feet away from me.

  “What are you doing here?” I demanded.

  “Trying to get some peace and quiet,” Jason said. “And, man, did I come to the wrong place.”

  “Why didn’t you just go sit in your car?” I asked.

  Jason scowled. “Because everyone knows they can find me there.”

  I tried not to let myself think that by “everyone” he meant Becca, and that he was avoiding her. For one thing because I didn’t care. And for another because it made absolutely no sense that I should be so happy that he was
trying to avoid Becca.

  “She’s right, you know,” Jason said, nodding in the direction Alyssa had stormed off. “About Lauren. She’s going to figure out some way to get back at you for buying her boyfriend.”

  “Oh, please,” I said. “Like I’m scared.”

  “You should be,” Jason said. “She could make your life pretty unpleasant.”

  I just stared at him. “Jason, where have you been these past five years? What can she possibly do to me that she hasn’t already done?”

  “That’s why I don’t understand,” Jason said, holding a bag of Funyuns toward me (and which I declined), “why you even want to be friends with her.”

  “I don’t,” I said.

  Jason’s scowl deepened. “Then what’s this all about? This whole…thing this week?”

  “I just want to be popular,” I said.

  “Why?”

  The funny part was, he asked it like he genuinely didn’t understand.

  “Because, Jason,” I said, not even quite believing I had to explain it, “my whole life—well, since sixth grade, anyway—I’ve been at the bottom. And now it’s my turn to be on top.”

  “Yeah, but”—Jason chewed a Funyun—“what’s so great about being there? You can’t even be yourself.”

  “Yes, I can,” I said.

  “Oh, right. Because that’s how your hair normally looks.”

  I raised an eyebrow at him, and he said, “Well, okay, today you’ve gone all Crazytop. But I mean the rest of this week—what does it take you, like half an hour to get it straight? Why do you want to be friends with a bunch of people who’ll only give you the time of day if you have straight hair? What’s so wrong with your old friends, who loved you the way you were?”

  “Nothing,” I said. I couldn’t believe I was even having this conversation. “But what’s so wrong with wanting to have other friends besides just you and Becca?”

  “Nothing,” he admitted. Grudgingly. “But Lauren Moffat? Or is it just her boyfriend you’re trying to steal?”

  “I’m not trying to steal him,” I said, feeling myself flush.

  “Oh, you’re not? You just spent a thousand bucks of your hard-earned cash on him for no reason?”

  “No,” I said, forgetting about limiting my saturated fat intake and reaching into the bag on his desk for a Funyun. “You know why I did that. To bring business to the store.”

  “Oh, sure. And you don’t have a crush on him.”

  “Right. Just like you don’t have a crush on Becca.”

  Even as the words were coming out of my mouth, I was longing to stuff them back in. But it was too late. They were already out.

  “Becca?” Jason made a pretty funny face as he said the name, for someone who, only twelve hours ago, had been kissing her. “Since when do I have a crush on Becca?”

  “Well, you bought her,” I pointed out. Since I couldn’t very well mention that I’d seen the kiss.

  “Of course I bought her,” Jason said. “What else was I supposed to do? Let her stand up there and be humiliated because only her dad was bidding on her? I couldn’t very well let Mark Finley buy her.”

  “What’s wrong with Mark Finley?” I demanded. “He’s a really nice guy.”

  “Sure,” Jason said with a sneer. “If you like mindless clones who just do whatever their girlfriend—or you—tells them to.”

  “Mark’s not like that. He—”

  “Whatever, Steph,” Jason said, standing up. “You know, Alyssa’s a troll, but she’s right about one thing. The only thing you’re going to get out of hanging around the likes of Lauren Moffat and her golden boy is burned. And I just hope when it happens, I’m there to see it.”

  The weirdest part of it all is, when it happened?

  He was there.

  * * *

  Are you dependable?

  People like those they can count on.

  Are you “there” for your friends when they need a helping hand, or maybe just a shoulder to cry on?

  Do you pay back loans in a timely manner (preferably the next day)?

  Do you arrive promptly for parties and other social engagements?

  Do you honor all obligations and promises?

  These are the qualities of a popular person.

  * * *

  Twenty-seven

  STILL DAY FIVE OF POPULARITY

  FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 1, 2 P.M.

  It happened right as we were coming out of the library. Well, not “we” exactly, since Jason and I definitely weren’t leaving the library together. He was ahead of me, his long legs effortlessly out-striding mine.

  But he saw who was waiting for me outside the library doors, so he slowed down to watch the show.

  Nice of him, wasn’t it?

  Because the whole gang was there. Lauren. Mark. Todd. Darlene. Darlene’s entourage. Bebe. Everyone but Alyssa Krueger.

  But not to worry. I saw her over by the drinking fountain, pretending to be refilling her water bottle, but really watching what was about to go down.

  “Oh, there she is,” Lauren cried as I came out of the library doors, wondering what was going on. “God, Steph, we’ve been looking for you all over!”

  “Yeah, how come you didn’t come down to the caf for lunch?” Darlene wanted to know. She, at least, looked as if she’d genuinely missed me.

  “I, uh, had some studying to do,” I said lamely. “I’ve got a chem quiz later.”

  “Bummer,” Darlene said sympathetically.

  Lauren was the one who got down to business first.

  “This guy right here,” Lauren said, holding up the front page from Wednesday’s Bloomville Gazette. “Isn’t he your grandfather?”

  I looked at the picture of Gramps holding his arms outstretched in the rotunda of the observatory. I could not imagine where Lauren was heading with this.

  “Um,” I said. “Yeah.”

  “So he owns this?” Lauren said, tapping another photo that accompanied the article, of the outside of the observatory. “Right?”

  “Well,” I said. “Yeah. I mean, he had it built. He’s donating it to the city—”

  “But he hasn’t yet,” Lauren said. “It’s not open to the public yet, right?”

  “Right,” I said. “Not till next week—”

  “So it’s empty?” Lauren asked.

  I seriously did not see where this was all going. Maybe I’m a moron. But I just didn’t get it.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Well, I mean, there’re workmen there—”

  “During the day.”

  “Right….”

  “But it’s empty at night.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Why—?”

  “See?” Lauren threw a triumphant look up at Mark. “I told you. It’s perfect.”

  “Perfect for what?” I asked, just as the bell signaling the end of the lunch period rang.

  “For Todd’s rager tonight,” Lauren said. “Normally he has it out at the quarry, but it’s going to rain all day and into the night, too. He was going to cancel it, but then I remembered your grandfather was the guy who was building the new observatory, and that it wasn’t open yet, and that you could probably get us in there.”

  “You can let us in, right?” Todd asked eagerly. “I mean, I know it’s probably locked. But you have the key or the code or whatever, right?”

  “Well,” I said. “I mean, yeah, I do, but—”

  “See?” Lauren grinned up at Mark. “I told you! Steph, you’re the best!”

  “But,” I said. This wasn’t happening. No way could this be happening. “How many people are we talking about here?”

  “Just a hundred,” Todd said. “Tops. Well, maybe a couple dozen more. But seriously, Steph, my ragers are exclusive—invitation only. We’ll post someone at the door, keep an eye out for the cops, the works. It’s supposed to rain all night, so it’s not like there’ll be people out on Main or The Wall, or anything. I swear, no one will even know we were there. All we need for you to do is
open the doors for us around ten o’clock. That’s it.”

  I thought of the observatory’s clean white walls and spotless floors. I thought of the massive central telescope pier, and the twisting halls around it, and the wide observatory deck.

  Then I thought of all the images of teen parties I had seen on TV and at the movies (since I’d never actually been to one).

  And I said, “I really don’t think this—”

  “Aw, come on, Steph,” Mark said, looking down at me with those hazel eyes of his. “We’ll be careful. You won’t get busted. And if you do, well, I’ll take the rap for you. I swear.”

  I stared up at him, hypnotized as always by those golden-green irises.

  “All right,” I heard myself murmur.

  “Yeah!” Todd said, and he and Mark high-fived each other. Lauren looked pleased, and Darlene said, “Wait, so…that means the party’s on after all?”

  “Party is on, baby,” Todd said, and tried to put his arm around Darlene’s waist, but she stepped quickly away, saying, “Oh, good, I can wear my new suede pants.”

  “You’re the best,” Lauren said to me. “I just knew we could count on you, Steph.”

  Then the second bell rang, and everyone took off.

  Everyone except Jason, that is.

  Who looked at me and said, “I just knew we could count on you, Steph.”

  But in a completely different tone of voice than Lauren had said it.

  And then walked away.

  * * *

  Popular people know how to win.

  The easiest way to win an argument is to avoid one in the first place. You can do this by showing respect for others’ opinions, even if you think they’re wrong. Never say, “You’re wrong.” (And if you happen to be wrong, admit it quickly!)

  It’s best to let others do most of the talking. Let them think your idea was actually theirs.