Katy Birchall - The It Girl - Superstar Geek

Sophie spun round to see who had dared defy her and Connor Lawrence, leaning back in his chair looking very pleased with himself, stared right back at her mischievously through his dark fringe.

Brilliant. I groaned inwardly. Of all people to come to my defence, it had to be someone like Connor Lawrence. He has fewer friends than me. And I only have two. (Three if you count Dog, but Jess and Danny say that I can’t, which personally I find unreasonable.)

‘Er, who even are you?’ My heart sunk as Connor ignored Sophie entirely and carried on. ‘If Josie had any brains, she would have just turned on the tap of the sink right next to where she was sitting and shoved her big head under it.’

There was a nervous titter around the classroom and I felt the tension rising rapidly as Sophie inhaled sharply at the insult to her sidekick. I sat awkwardly, wishing that Connor would just leave it alone.

‘Ugh. Don’t even bother speaking to me. No one asked you your opinion, weirdo!’ Sophie spat angrily before turning to round on me again. ‘Did you set fires at your last school? Is that why you don’t have any friends?’

‘No, no, of course not. It was –’

‘Sit down, Sophie. It was an accident.’

I turned in shock because this time it wasn’t just anyone speaking up. Too cool to even look up from his phone while speaking, it was Brendan Dakers. Brendan Dakers . The most popular and best-looking boy in my class, possibly in the entire school. And captain of the football and rugby teams. He is also really clever and always gets the best grades. Basically, he’s the perfect male specimen. Every time I look at him, my feet go tingly.

I’ve never really spoken to him. He’s way too popular. Of course, Sophie Parker and Josie Graham are always hanging round with him. In fact Sophie and Brendan are sort of an unofficial couple. They aren’t actually together but they should be. Everyone knows it’s going to happen one day. Probably at the dance.

They’re both really beautiful. If they ever reproduced (ew), their children would be another level of human – super-human. Jess disagrees with me on this and says that if they ever had children, they might get Brendan’s looks and Sophie’s personality, which would make them vampires.

I’m not sure of the logic in this but I’m not sure that Jess’s brain works in a logical way.

I don’t know how either Jess or Sophie manage to remain collected in his presence. If Brendan Dakers ever spoke to me I would be so ecstatic I would probably die. Which would be an excellent way to go.

Sadly the chances of Brendan speaking to me are nil for the following reasons:

1. When I first saw him I choked on my own spit.

2. When he once walked past our netball lesson and waved to Sophie, I had a moment of complete deliriousness and thought he was waving at me. When I waved back he looked puzzled. Probably because we had never spoken before and I don’t think he even knew I was in his year at that point. I’m not even sure he realises that now.

3. When I mistakenly waved back at Brendan Dakers in netball, Josie Graham said really loudly to Sophie, ‘That is so mortifying for her!’ and they both burst out laughing. He witnessed this.

4. I set his friend Josie on fire.

Reflecting on this list has made me wonder how I even have two friends.

‘Brendan, Josie’s hair went up in flames,’ Sophie stropped.

‘Relax,’ Brendan said, looking up from his phone briefly. ‘It was funny.’

And with that, he went back to playing on his phone. The room silently watched Sophie’s reaction. Her cheeks flushed with anger and she gave me one last dramatic huff before pulling her shoulders back and stalking to her desk.

Someone snorted from the back of the classroom. It sounded like Connor. To my great relief Sophie didn’t appear to have heard and flung herself in her chair, pulling out her fluffy purple pencil case just as Mr Avery strolled in with his tea and asked us to turn to page fifty-six.

I was so caught up in replaying Brendan Dakers sticking up for me – sort of – over and over in my head that I didn’t even hear the bell go. It was only when I noticed people actually walking out of the classroom that I realised it was time for the next class and started to pack up my things in a hurry.

Brendan finding Josie being set on fire funny still didn’t mean that Sophie had decided to let it go with me. As I got up, I accidentally nudged Sophie who had been walking towards the door.

‘Urgh!’ she exhaled in exasperation, probably at the idea of me touching her, and looked at me in disgust as I hurriedly got out of her way.

Then she shook her head, swished back her perfect hair and practically skipped towards Brendan who, unlike me, clearly had been forgiven for the classroom stand-off and was waiting for her by the door.

I finished packing up my stuff and began to make my way out too.

‘Chin up, Miss Huntley,’ Mr Avery said cheerily as he took time out from wiping the board to look at me with sympathy. ‘You’ll make friends here eventually. Sometimes it takes a while to find your feet. I remember having no friends whatsoever for a good few terms at my secondary school.’

‘Oh, well,’ I stopped by the door, ‘thanks but I do have some friends here.’

‘Do you?’ he said, looking surprised. ‘Splendid!’

Then he got back to wiping the board.

Sometimes I really wish I was a hermit. Not only do they not have to deal with people in general but they’re also usually very wise. I can only aspire to that state of being.

The school dance stresses me out. And it’s NOT because I won’t have a date.

It is actually because school dances highlight the dictation of a dominating society on a youthful generation to locate a suitable partner of similar social standing with whom to spend the evening, not based on intellectual or personality compatibility, but on visual attraction alone. School dances are a staple of the dominant ideology in which we live, serving only the interest of a certain elite platform of students to exert their superiority and their peer influence, thus maintaining the existing state of the school’s social context.

OK, FINE, it’s because I’ll never find a date.

Ever since term started everyone has been talking about this Beatus dance, which takes place at the end of the spring term. It’s for Years 9 to 11 and apparently is kind of like a smaller version of the sixth form ball.

‘What on earth is the Betty dance?’ I’d asked Jess one afternoon when I overheard for the third time that day someone in the toilets talking about who was going to be elected for the committee.

‘It’s the Beatus dance, you mongoose,’ Jess laughed.

‘It means blessed or fortunate in Medieval Latin, Anna,’ Danny explained gently, giving Jess a shove. This was typical Danny behaviour, always on hand to remind Jess when to be a little more patient.

I once told him that I thought he was probably one of the nicest people I had ever met. ‘And your hair complements that.’ I smiled.

‘Huh?’ He automatically ran a hand through his thick blond curls that really are quite spectacular.

‘I think when it comes to you, Danny,’ I’d said matter-of-factly, ‘your hair reflects your kindness and comforting nature.’

That didn’t actually go down too well. It turns out boys don’t really strive to be kind and comforting. Danny, Jess had informed me after he’d left grumpily, gets tired of always being ‘the nice one’ who girls want to be friends with.