Beanpole, Q, and I looked at one another, then screamed as loud as we could.
“NERD GIRLS!!!”
Oh, was there chaos the next Monday at school. Kiki’s mom, along with all the kids who were involved in the fiasco—plus all of their parents—were in the principal’s office by seven thirty a.m., and the heat was turned up to full blast. Kiki’s mom demanded expulsion, jail time, and, most important of all, a retake of the yearbook picture.
“But it will have to wait because it will be at least four months before the girls’ eyebrows grow back,” she said.
Mr. Piddles was there as well. He studied me with curious eyes.
“Might I ask what happened to the robotic-dog dance routine?” he said.
The room got quiet, and everyone turned to me. My mom, Q and her mom, Beanpole and her parents, all of the ThreePees and their parents, everyone, they just looked at me.
I turned and stared at Kiki and her pet donkeys. Their expressions changed from innocent little victims of a terrible crime to mean and nasty perpetrators of a crime of their own.
I paused. Wow, did their no-eyebrow faces make them look super weirdo.
“Do you want the truth?” I said to Mr. Piddles.
“Of course,” he answered.
The principal, Mr. Mazer, waited. He was a firm man who didn’t like any monkey business. My mom put her hand on my back to show that she was with me one hundred percent.
“Well,” I began. The ThreePees lowered their eyes. They knew they were toast. “We decided to go in a different direction.”
“A different direction?” asked Mr. Piddles. I could tell he didn’t believe me. The ThreePees looked up at the same time with surprised, eyebrowless expressions. Their faces really did look like chicken eggs.
“Yep,” I said. “A different direction.”
“You mean you chose to give an almost incomprehensible speech and then share a cotton swab in all of your ears, as opposed to doing an elaborate dance routine with a robotic dog, which had obviously taken a great many hours to prepare?” said Mr. Piddles.
“Uh-huh,” I said. “That’s right. We decided to go with the Q-tip.”
“But why would you make such a decision?” asked Mr. Piddles. He was determined to get to the bottom of this.
“Because, we’re Nerd Girls,” I answered. “And that’s just how Nerd Girls roll.”
Beanpole came over and put her hand in mine. Q came over and grabbed my other hand. The whole room stared at us.
The message was clear: Do what you will to us; we aren’t budging.
After a moment, Mr. Mazer rose from his chair. All the adults stared. The parents of the ThreePees wanted answers, and the tension in the room got even thicker. Not a sound could be heard.
Not a sound except one…
Wheeesh-whooosh. Wheeesh-whooosh.
“You’re such a dorkasaurus,” I said to Q.
“Look who’s talking,” she answered with a smile.
“Hey,” said Beanpole, not wanting to be left out. “I’m a dorkasaurus too.”
“Oh yes you are, Beanpole. Yes you are,” I said.
She smiled, happy to be properly insulted.
“Um, ladies, if you don’t mind,” said Principal Mazer, “I have other things to do in this lifetime. Now, Mr. Piddles, if you please…” He nodded his head.
Mr. Piddles opened up his laptop computer and showed the yearbook picture to everyone in the room. The eyebrowless Miss America photo was the funniest picture I’d ever seen.
“You know, this photograph, if I may interrupt,” said Mr. Piddles, addressing the room. “For some reason, it strikes me as…what’s the word I am looking for?”
“Abominable?” said Kiki’s mother. “Horrible? Freakish?” she added.
“No, that’s not it,” answered Mr. Piddles. “This picture, for some reason, it strikes me as…just. Yes, that’s the word I am looking for. Just.”
“Listen to me; you can’t put that picture in the yearbook!” exclaimed Brittany-Brattany’s dad. “I’ll sue!”
“Yeah,” said the father of Sofes. “We’ll sue.”
“Oh, I wasn’t going to publish the picture,” answered Mr. Piddles calmly. “Consider it deleted.”
Mr. Piddles pushed the delete button on his computer, and the shot of the ThreePees vanished forever.
Too bad, I thought.
“And I demand you take that video off of YouTube as well,” added Kiki’s mother. “I’ve never been so mortified.”
“Miss Masters,” said Mr. Piddles, “if I had the power to take a video off of YouTube, do you really think I’d still be a middle-school social studies teacher?”
The parents of the ThreePees turned to Mr. Mazer. He shrugged. “What, you think I’d be a middle-school principal?” he asked. “Sorry, we can’t help you there.”
“But the entire world can see it,” Kiki’s mother pleaded. “It’s already had eleven thousand hits.”
“Sixteen thousand, seven hundred and twenty-five hits as of 7:03 this morning,” said Q.
Everyone turned to look at Alice.
“Accurate statistics are important to her,” I said, clearing up the matter.
“You haven’t heard the end of this,” said Kiki’s mom as she stormed out of the office. “I want justice. I mean, look at my child, she’s a monster!”
“She was a monster before she lost her eyebrows,” Beanpole said.
“Barbara,” snapped Department Store Mom. “That wasn’t nice. That wasn’t nice at all.”
“Sorry, Mom,” said Beanpole. “But you know what? Sometimes in this world you can’t always be nice. Some people”—she stared at the ThreePees—“some people need to be treated a little differently.”
Beanpole glared at the ThreePees. They glared back. Q and I got right next to Beanpole, and suddenly we found ourselves in a huge staring match once again.
“You little nerd brats haven’t heard the end of this,” Kiki’s mom threatened as she stormed out of the office. “You haven’t heard the end of this at all.”
With that, Kiki and her mother bolted out of the room. The donkeys and their parents followed right behind her.
“Now, listen to me, young ladies, and listen to me good,” said Principal Mazer in a firm tone. “I want this over with. You got me, Nerd Girls? I’m serious. I don’t want to see any more problems between you and those girls. Am I clear?”
Q raised the scuba tank to her lips, then stared off into the distance like a Wild West gunfighter. Through the principal’s window, we could see that the ThreePees had gathered by the front of the Fountain. It was obvious that they were already scheming a way to get back at us.
“I don’t think you’ll be having more trouble with us, Mr. Principal, but”—Wheeesh-whooosh. Wheeesh-whooosh—“something tells me, us Nerd Girls ain’t seen the last of them.”
The principal turned and looked out the window.
Q squinted and stared into the distance.
“Nope”—Wheeesh-whooosh. Wheeesh-whooosh—“we ain’t seen the last of them.”
We walked outside and said good-bye to our parents. Once all the adults had left, we got ready to go to our separate classes.
“See you guys at lunch?” Q asked.
“Can’t wait,” I answered. “Hey, Beanpole, what’d your mom make you today, anyway?”
“Lasagna,” she answered. “Shaped like a boxing glove.”
“Like a boxing glove?” I said.
“Yeah,” Beanpole replied. “’Cause even though my mommy wants me to be nice, she also wants me to stand up for myself.”
Q stared across the courtyard. The ThreePees glared back at us.
“Hey, Maureen, Maureen,” a voice suddenly called out from behind me. I turned around.
It was Logan Meyers.
“Would it be like, stupid, if I, like, wanted to carry your books for you?” He stared all googly-eyed at me like a lost puppy.
“Nah, thanks though, Logan,” I a
nswered. “I got it.”
“Well, maybe tomorrow?” he asked in a hopeful voice.
“Mm,” I said. “I don’t think so.”
“Well,” he answered, backing away, “like maybe you’ll change your mind, right? You gotta think positive, right, Maureen? Right?”
“Ya know, Logan, thinking positive’s not stupid,” I told him. “At least not stupid like stupid video games,” I added.
He paused and wrinkled his forehead.
“Um, yeah…I know exactly what you mean,” he answered, even though I could tell he had no idea what I was talking about.
“I know exactly what you mean.”
I smiled.
“Well, see ya later, maybe!” he called out, and then dashed off to go to his first-period class. I looked up at Beanpole and Q.
“I just wish I could get that kid off my jock.”
We broke out in a big laugh.
“See ya.”
“See ya.”
“See you guys later,” I said as I walked away, and for the first time that I could ever remember, I was really, really, really looking forward to lunch.
After all, what could be more fun than hanging out with a couple of Nerd Girls?
Nerd Girls Page 17
