Geek High by Piper Banks Page A

immediately obvious from his expression, which was a cross between smug pride and sheepishness.
    â€œHow did you know?” he asked Charlie.
    She shrugged. “I know everything,” she said.
    Finn tossed a sweet-potato chip at her.
    â€œHey! Don’t! Okay, fine, I saw you writing it in mod lit. You should be a little more discreet, you know. It was pretty obvious you weren’t taking class notes—you were typing way too fast,” Charlie said.
    â€œThanks for the tip,” Finn said. He popped a chip in his mouth.
    â€œBut why are you writing it?” I asked.
    â€œI’m an anarchist,” Finn said nonchalantly.
    â€œWriting a snarky tell-all blog counts as anarchy these days?” I asked, arching my eyebrows.
    â€œI’m starting small,” Finn said. “I’m slowly working up to overthrowing the school administration.”
    â€œDid you make this up about the Felimonster?” I asked, looking back at the salacious blog entry. It was written in bold white type against a black background, for dramatic effect.
    â€œOf course not,” Finn said indignantly. “That wouldn’t be ethical.”
    â€œSo how’d you find out about it?” Charlie asked.
    â€œA journalist never reveals his sources.”
    â€œPlease,” I said dismissively. “It’s a blog, not the New York Times .”
    â€œLet’s just say I have an in within the administration,” Finn said mysteriously. He drew a circle in the air with his fingers as he said it.
    â€œMrs. Boxer,” I said, snapping my fingers and pointing at him. Finn looked crestfallen.
    â€œHow’d you figure that out so fast?” he asked.
    Mrs. Boxer’s official title was executive administrative assistant to the headmaster, but that was just a fancy way of saying she was the school secretary.
    â€œBecause (a) she’s a gossip, and (b) she adores you,” I said. “What did you do, bring her a latte and then, once she was hopped up on caffeine, wheedle it out of her?”
    â€œI did no such thing.” Finn actually looked affronted at this. “I just…overheard her talking. She didn’t actually know I was there.”
    â€œDid you hide in the coatroom by her office again?” Charlie asked.
    â€œAgain?” I asked.
    â€œThat’s where he hid last year when he was trying to find out if they’d figured out who was behind the rash of toilet paper thefts,” Charlie said.
    â€œThat was you?” I asked, stung that I’d been left out of this scheme, too. “You guys don’t tell me anything.”
    â€œWe wanted you to have plausible deniability,” Finn said.
    â€œGee, thanks,” I said crankily.
    Although, still, I had to admit this was good gossip. I don’t normally subscribe to the politics of personal destruction, but Felicity Glen really did have it coming to her. I glanced over at Felicity’s table. She, clearly unaware of the piece Finn had posted about her, was still giggling with Morgan, and smirking in my direction. I knew I should tell Finn to take down the piece, and that no matter how much Felicity might torture me, we shouldn’t sink to her level. But I didn’t.
    Which, as it turned out, was a big mistake.

Chapter 10
    F elicity found out about the blog in Twentieth-century History class. She was sitting at her desk, legs primly crossed at the ankles, skimming over the reading assignment Mr. Aburro had given us the day before, when Morgan came skittering into the room, looking both traumatized and titillated. She was clearly torn between wanting to appear upset on Felicity’s behalf, and overcome with the bounty of good gossip. Morgan bent over, and, cupping her hand over her mouth, whispered into Felicity’s ear.
    I watched as Felicity’s expression morphed from surprise to shell-shocked horror. She wheeled around in her seat and began to type furiously at her laptop. I