Geek Abroad (25 page)

My dad looked at her, impatience etched on his features. “So we’ll cancel,”he said. “Whatever Miranda ends up doing, I’ll want to go and watch her.”

“We can’t cancel!”Peyton exclaimed. “These plans have been set for weeks! What will Lotta and Bill think?”

“They’ll think we care more about our daughters than we do about our social obligations,”Dad said evenly.

Hannah and I exchanged a quick look. The storm clouds had rolled in again, threatening another big blowup between Dad and Peyton.

“You mean your daughter is more important to you than I am?”Peyton said.

We all went silent at this. Dad was staring coolly at Peyton, Hannah was gaping at me, and I was looking at my dad. It was the most uncomfortable silence I had ever endured in my life.

“Peyton,”Dad said slowly, “this is neither the time nor place for this discussion.”

“Oh yes, it damn well is!”Peyton said. The color was rising in her pale cheeks. “You can’t just back out of plans we’ve already made. It’s unforgivably rude!”

“
We
didn’t make the plans.
You
made the plans,”Dad said. He glanced over at Hannah and me. “Girls, could you please excuse us? Peyton and I need to talk.
Privately
,”he said, emphasizing this last word with a glacial finality.

“Sure,”I said, jumping up and gathering my papers and calendar.

“Absolutely,”Hannah said, also rising, Pop-Tart still in hand.

Hannah and I hurried out of the kitchen. Once the door was closed behind us, we could hear Peyton and my dad’s voices, low but buzzing with anger.

“Have you noticed how much they’ve been fighting lately?”Hannah asked as we turned down the hallway toward our bedrooms.

I nodded. “Yeah. It would be sort of hard not to.”

Hannah snorted. “No kidding. Do you think they’re going to split up?”

“I don’t know. What do you think?”

Hannah frowned and shrugged. “I don’t know. I hope not. I like Richard. He’s a lot nicer than any of the other guys my mom dated. Some of them were real creeps.”She tossed her hair back over her shoulders and gathered it back in her hands, making a ponytail out of it. “Do you want the first shower, or can I go ahead?”

I stared at Hannah, shocked at the thoughtfulness of this question. Normally, she just announced that not only was she going to take the first shower, but that she’d be in there for at least an hour, forcing me to grab my toothbrush and toothpaste and brush my teeth at the kitchen sink.

“Um . . . no, go ahead,”I said. “I already showered.”

Hannah rolled her eyes. “Great. You didn’t get the floor all wet again, did you? You do know that’s what the bath mat is there for, right?”

And then she pirouetted in place and headed into our shared bathroom. This was so much more like the Hannah I knew, I actually grinned in relief.

All day at school, my thoughts tumbled around and around, until I almost felt dizzy. I couldn’t decide what I was going to do. Even worse, I didn’t have Charlie to talk the problem out with. She and I still weren’t speaking. During Mod Lit, I glanced across the classroom at her a few times, wondering if I should make the first move to patch things up. But Charlie refused to meet my gaze, and then spent the period tapping away on her IM program—from her dreamy, goofy expression, it wasn’t hard to figure out whom she was IM’ing—and I lost the impulse.

I tried to talk my dilemma over with Finn.

“Dude, are you serious?”he asked, when I’d finished setting it out for him. “You’re actually undecided about whether you should spend a weekend partying in DC or stuck at some boring math tournament? That’s not even a real question.”

I knew that making the finals of the Winston Creative Writing Contest was a big deal. There were only ten finalists in the entire country. Just being included in that group was a huge honor. . . . And it would be an even bigger honor if I actually won. The rules of the contest specifically stated that you had to be present at the ceremony in order to win anything. So I had to go, right? After all, I wanted to be a writer. If I actually managed to win the Winston Creative Writing Contest, it could make all the difference in the world when I applied to colleges with good creative writing programs.

So I should go to DC
, I thought, as I walked to my Latin class. It would be better for me, personally, if I did. And not just better now, but better in the long run, better for college applications and career prospects.

But if I did go to the Winston finals . . .that would mean that the Geek High MATh team would have to drop out of state finals for the fourth year in a row. And the team had worked so hard to make finals. They’d dealt with a devastating loss to the St. Pius team and Sanjiv’s constant stage fright, and
still
made it. How could I look my team members in the eye, and tell them I was bailing on them now?

I can’t do that,
I thought miserably.
I can’t let them down.

But then again . . . Hannah was right. I hadn’t even
wanted
to be on the MATh team. Headmaster Hughes had blackmailed me into it. In fact, if he hadn’t manipulated me into rejoining the MATh team, I wouldn’t even be in this position. This was all his fault! Anger flared up inside of me like a flame.

This is why you don’t go around screwing with other people’s lives,
I thought furiously, hugging my binder up to my chest.
Because they end up in situations like this.

Suddenly, I knew what I had to do. I whirled around, surprising the freshman walking down the school corridor behind me. He dodged to one side as I stalked past him down toward the central building, where the administrative offices were housed. I was going to dump this entire mess right where it belonged. . . . In the lap of one Headmaster C. Phillip Hughes.

Mrs. Boxer, the headmaster’s secretary, wasn’t at her desk, so I rapped softly on the headmaster’s office door.

“Come in,”I heard him call out.

I steeled myself and pushed open the door.

Headmaster Hughes’s office was large, but even so, it was so cluttered that I always felt a little claustrophobic when I was in the room. Bookshelves, couches, oriental rugs, and a very large desk competed for floor space. Framed award certificates and pictures of the headmaster with donors lined the walls.

The headmaster was sitting behind his desk, pen in hand, signing some papers. The top of his head was completely bald, although he had thick, furry eyebrows. And when he smiled, his lips drew down, as though he were really frowning.

“Miranda,”he said when he saw me. He set his gold pen down on his desk, and frown-smiled at me. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I have something I need to talk to you about,”I said. Then, remembering, quickly added, “Sir.”

Headmaster Hughes graciously waved me toward one of the wing chairs that faced his desk. “Please have a seat.”

I sat, setting my book bag on the floor next to me.

“How are you, Miranda?”the headmaster asked.

“Actually . . . not so good at the moment,”I said.

His furry eyebrows quirked up. “Oh, dear,”he said mildly. “I am sorry to hear that.”

“It’s the Mu Alpha Theta finals,”I said.

The headmaster frown-smiled warmly. “Yes, I was pleased to see the team qualify for the state finals,”he said. “I’m counting on adding the state champion trophy to our collection downstairs. And if you bring home the Winston Writing Contest trophy, too, we may have to start a special Miranda Bloom trophy case.”

“That’s just it. . . . The MATh finals are the same weekend as the Winston Writing Contest finals in DC,”I said.

He grasped the point immediately. “Which means that you won’t be able to attend both. You are on the horns of an unhappy dilemma.”The headmaster frowned for real this time, and he bridged his hands together.

“So what should I do?”I asked. I didn’t—as I had meant to—add that this was all his fault, and if he hadn’t forced me to be on the MATh team, I wouldn’t be in this position. Because now that I was here, I realized I really did want his advice. Headmaster Hughes might be devious and underhanded, and a blackmailer to boot, but he was also a pretty smart guy. I was sure—well, fairly sure—that he really did have the school’s best interest at heart.

“There’s only one thing you can do,”the headmaster said. He looked faintly surprised, as though the solution were so obvious, only an idiot would have failed to have grasped it.

“What?”

“You have to go to DC and attend the Winston Writing Competition finals. You can’t win if you’re not present, correct?”

I nodded. “That’s what the rules say.”

“Then that’s what you have to do,”Mr. Hughes said.

“But what about the MATh team? If I don’t compete, they’ll have to drop out of the state finals,”I said.

“An unfortunate consequence, I agree. But it can’t be helped. Miranda, the Alfred Q. Winston Creative Writing Contest is the preeminent writing competition for high school students in the country. Being selected as a finalist is a great honor in and of itself. If you should win, it would be one of the most—if not the most—important prize any student has ever earned in the history of the Notting Hill Independent School for Gifted Children,”the headmaster said.

I had to admit, I did like the sound of that. The idea that I’d bring glory to the school and leave behind the legacy of a huge silver cup with my name engraved on it.

“Okay,”I said slowly. Everyone who had weighed in on my dilemma—my dad, the headmaster, Hannah, Finn—had all told me they thought I should go to the writing contest. If the right choice was that obvious to everyone else, then that must mean it was what I should do. “I guess I’ll tell the MATh team at our practice tomorrow afternoon.”

Although . . . it wouldn’t be a practice. Not if we weren’t going to finals.

They’re all going to be so disappointed,
I thought, and my stomach hurt a little as I imagined their reaction.

“Can I help you with anything else?”the headmaster asked.

“No,”I said, rising out of my seat. I shouldered my bag. “Thank you, sir.”

“Any time.”The headmaster frown-smiled at me. “My door is always open, Miranda.”

Chapter 21

To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: [re] disaster

Top three things that are worse than telling your mates you’re skiving off the maths tourney:

1. Eating a plate of live, wriggling grubs.
2. Being doused with gasoline and set on fire.
3. Having what you think is a normal bug bite, but when you scratch it, it bursts open and hundreds of little spiders come crawling out (this actually happened to someone my mate Oliver knows).
 

Cheers,
Henry

“
Why do you keep scratching yourself ?”Finn asked.

I shuddered, and yet again scratched at a small mosquito bite on my arm that I was now—thanks to Henry’s spider e-mail—totally freaked out about.

“Nothing,”I muttered. I opened my locker and threw my books in. “Where are you off to? Grounded?”

Finn gave me a cold look. “You know I’m boycotting that place until they fire Mitchy.”

“Finn, they’re not going to fire Mitch,”I said. “He’s the owner’s nephew.”

“Then they’ve lost me as a customer,”Finn said loftily. “I’m sticking to my principles.”

“Your principles are telling you to put economic pressure on Grounded to fire Mitch just because you don’t like the fact that he’s dating Charlie?”I asked.

“You don’t like him dating Charlie, either,”Finn reminded me.

“No, I don’t mind him dating Charlie. I mind that Charlie acts like a blithering idiot whenever she’s around him,”I said irritably, slamming my locker door shut. “It’s like her IQ drops to that of a not-very-bright shoe.”

I heard a gasp and spun around. Charlie was standing behind me, as though she’d been waiting to speak to me. . . . And she’d clearly been there long enough to have overheard what I’d just said about her. Her eyes were wide and she was blinking rapidly, as though to keep from crying.

“Charlie . . .”I said, stepping forward toward her.

But before I could apologize, she spun around and rushed away. I watched her, feeling like the world’s biggest jerk.

“Well, isn’t that just
great
,”I said flatly.

Finn slung an arm around my shoulders. “That’s my Miranda,”he said. “Winning friends and influencing people.”Then he dodged as I attempted to elbow him in his scrawny side.

“Are you walking out?”he asked me, slinging his book bag over one shoulder.

I shook my head sadly. “I wish I was. I have to go Mu Alpha Theta.”

“Today’s the big day? You’re going to tell everyone you’re bailing on finals?”

“Yep. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,”Finn said. And then, dropping his voice to an ominous whisper, he added, “You’re going to need it.”

“Gee, thanks,”I said, rolling my eyes. I took in a deep breath, sighed, and turned to head off to the MATh meeting.

I was the last one to arrive at Mr. Gordon’s room. The rest of the MATh team was already there, sitting at desks with their practice books out, looking excited.