Holly Smale - Geek Drama

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books 2015

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Geek Girl: Geek Drama

Copyright © Holly Smale 2015

Cover design © HarperCollins Publishers 2015

Cover photographs © Shutterstock.com

Cover typography © Mary Kate McDevitt

Holly Smale asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008120306

Ebook Edition © 2015 ISBN: 9780008135003

Version: 2015-02-17

Geek Girl

“A smart, sassy and very funny debut” The Bookseller

“Funny, original and this year’s must-read for teenage girls” Sun

“A feel-good satisfying gem that will have teens smiling from cover to cover, and walking a little taller after reading” Books for Keeps

“Smart, sassy and feel-good fun” tBK MAG

Geek Girl: Model Misfit

“Holly Smale’s sideways glance at everything is relentlessly entertaining” Books for Keeps

Geek Girl: Picture Perfect

“Hilarious” The Guardian

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Praise for Holly Smale

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

About the Author

Also by Holly Smale

About the Publisher

1A composition in prose or verse presenting in dialogue or pantomime a story involving conflict or contrast of character, especially one intended to be acted on the stage; a play.

2The branch of literature having such compositions as its subject; dramatic art or representation.

3Any situation or series of events having vivid, emotional, conflicting or striking interest or results.

4The quality of being dramatic.

ORIGIN1510s, from Greek dran, meaning ‘to do, act or perform’.

y name is Harriet Manners, and I am an idiot.

I know I’m an idiot because:

1. One half of me is inside a cupboard, and the other is not.

2. I can’t move more than two centimetres either backwards or forwards.

3. My feet aren’t touching the ground.

4. The shelf I used to climb up to this windowsill collapsed at least forty minutes ago.

5. I keep saying, “Help, help, I’m stuck,” even though nobody can hear me.

Clearly my spatial awareness is every bit as terrible as my dance teacher said it was after the Year 10 performance where I accidentally kicked another student in the face during an enthusiastic but badly executed can-can.

I don’t fit through this window.

At all.

Frankly, the fact that I even thought I might is a cause for serious concern. Recent studies have revealed that domesticated chickens have finely honed sensory capacities and an ability to think, draw inferences, apply logic and plan ahead in more advanced ways than those of a young child.

So, as I’ve been wedged firmly into the semi-open window of a cleaning cupboard in Infinity Models for forty minutes now, I can’t help thinking something, somewhere has gone very badly wrong.

It doesn’t say much for your IQ levels when you’re a fifteen-year-old girl with less common sense than poultry.

nyway, as it looks like I might be here for some time, I might as well tell you how I got here, right?

That’s what you want to know.

How a person with over 6,000 days of life experience and an IQ of 135 ended up stuck in a hole like Pooh Bear after a particularly enthusiastic honey session.

And, frankly, I don’t blame you.

I’m still kind of trying to work that out myself.

Two hours ago, I was exactly where I was supposed to be: waiting quietly in the reception of Infinity Models.

“Hello,” I said as I approached the front desk and tugged at the too-long arms of my stripy jumper. “I’m Harriet Manners. It’s nice to meet you. I’m here for a casting.”

There was a silence.

“For Brink magazine.”

Another silence.

“I’m an … erm … model?” I cleared my throat. “A fashion one.” In case they thought I meant a small paper aeroplane.