Geek High by Piper Banks

not.

Chapter 9
    A fter the interminably long mod lit class, during which I sat marinating in my humiliation, Charlie insisted I go to Latin, too.
    â€œKeep your head high and your shoulders back,” Charlie kept hissing in my ear, sounding like a beauty pageant coach. I kept waiting for her to whip out a tube of Preparation H to zap the puffiness under my eyes. “Don’t let Felicity or anyone else know that she got to you.”
    And I kept soldiering on, trying to look serene and unbothered, even though what I really wanted to do was to lock myself in a toilet stall and never come out again.
    But Charlie’s approach seemed to work. The story fizzled and died out before lunch, which was nothing short of a miracle, considering that people still occasionally talk about how Olivia Malkin fell asleep in Advanced Physics last year after pulling an all-nighter to finish up her science fair project, and drooled all over her desk. Gossip does not die an easy death at Geek High.
    â€œI have something that will cheer you up,” Finn said at lunch. He, Charlie, and I had staked out our favorite table in the corner of the dining room. Lunch is included in the tuition, although we don’t have the typical cafeteria lunch line. Instead, platters of sandwiches, crudités, fruit, and cookies are put out on each table, and we help ourselves, family style. We’d all been careful to grab turkey sandwiches before they ran out (trust me, you don’t want to get stuck with the egg salad), although I wasn’t eating today. Being humiliated in front of one’s peers has a way of ruining the appetite.
    â€œI seriously doubt that,” I said morosely.
    Two tables over, the Felimonster and Toady had their heads bent close together as they whispered excitedly. It wasn’t too hard to figure out whom they were talking about, as they kept darting sly looks at me and then tittering behind their hands.
    â€œKeep smiling,” Charlie hissed, and I obediently curled up the corners of my mouth, even though it felt like I was baring my teeth rather than smiling.
    â€œSee for yourself,” Finn said, and he pushed his open laptop toward me. He had the Internet up, and set to the same weblog he’d shown me yesterday: geekhigh.com. At the top of the page, the newest entry read:
    GEEK HIGH STUDENT FAKES IQ TO GAIN ADMISSION
    GEEKHIGH.COM has learned that one of its students—sophomore opera aficionado Felicity Glen—forged her IQ test in order to gain admission to Geek High. Allegedly, Glen has an IQ of only 115—ten points below the requisite 125 IQ needed to gain entrance to the school. Apparently, the rules do not apply to all students…especially those with rich fathers who have bestowed significant financial gifts to the school. In not completely unrelated news, Morris Glen, the prominent local criminal defense attorney and father of Felicity Glen, has announced his intention to donate fifteen thousand dollars toward a new library for Geek High. Developing…
    â€œIs this true?” I gasped.
    â€œAbsolutely,” Finn said with satisfaction.
    â€œHow do you know?” Charlie asked suspiciously.
    Finn smiled enigmatically at her. “I just do.”
    â€œWho’s writing this?” I asked. “Oh! Do you think it’s Megan Reilly? I overheard her saying she was trying to get an internship at Entertainment Weekly next summer, and this is just the sort of stunt she’d pull to get it.”
    â€œI think Finn knows who’s writing it,” Charlie said, fixing him with a beady stare. “Don’t you, Finn?”
    Finn shrugged, trying—and failing—to look modest. “I may.”
    Charlie snorted.
    â€œWhat?” I asked, looking from one to the other. I had the feeling I was missing something.
    â€œIt’s him ,” Charlie said. “ Finn . He’s the one writing it.”
    I looked at Finn for confirmation, but it was