The Clueless Girl's Guide to Being a Genius by Janice Repka Page B

That’s how Mom’s doing my hair.”
    â€œCan she do mine?” Veronica asked.
    â€œI guess. But you better get an appointment, because she always fills up when there’s a dance.”
    â€œWe should get a group together and all go to your mom’s beauty salon and get our hair and nails done before the dance.”
    â€œCool,” I said. “I’ll set it up.”
    Professor Wigglesmith came to the door. “Time for class.”
    â€œWhat about you?” I asked her. “Are you going?”
    â€œGoing where?”
    â€œTo the dance—you know, the Spring Fling.”
    â€œI don’t suppose I’m allowed,” said Professor Wigglesmith, brushing her bangs away from her eyes. “I believe it’s for students.”
    â€œWhy don’t you go as a chaperone?” I suggested.
    â€œI have no experience. Besides, I wouldn’t know what to wear.”
    â€œOh, come on,” I said. “The dances here are awesome. You should totally go.”
    Professor Wigglesmith blushed and turned back into her classroom. Then I noticed Veronica’s expression—a cross between shock and horror.
    â€œWhy would you encourage her to go to the dance?” asked Veronica.
    From the look in her eyes, I realized my mistake. Inviting a teacher to an after-school event was way uncool. Between her coming to my house for tutoring and us goofing around together at the Carnegie Diner waiting for the rest of the math team to show, I had spent so much time with Professor Wigglesmith that sometimes I forgot we weren’t supposed to be friends. I had to think of something fast. “How else am I gonna get my math grade up? Tell me you don’t kiss up to teachers for extra points.”
    â€œThat’s all it is? Because Jordeen told me her cousin Sarah saw you and Professor Wigglesmith hanging out together at the Carnegie Diner.”
    â€œIt’s that stupid math team,” I said.
    â€œSo she’s not, like, your friend?”
    â€œThink about it,” I said. “Aphrodite Wigglesmith, biggest geek ever, friends with me?” I put my outstretched thumb and index finger against my forehead in the form of an “L,” the universal sign for loser. “I think not.”
    Veronica headed off to class looking satisfied, and I went into math class and took my seat. It was another one of those “Why Math Matters to Me” days, and Eugenia was passing out balls of black yarn and giant needles.
    â€œMath matters to me because knitting is my favorite thing to do, and without math I couldn’t knit a thing,” Eugenia said. “Understanding patterns, maintaining symmetry, and calculating stitch ratios are all math concepts used in the textile arts.” Then she showed everyone how to use math to “cast on” the yarn with knitting needles.
    Timothy raised his hand. “What do you call a clever sweater maker?” he asked. “A knit-wit. Get it?”
    Half the class groaned.
    While I looped the yarn on my needle, I replayed in my mind what had just happened in the hallway when I accidentally invited Professor Wigglesmith to come to the school dance. It was strange. Even though she was my teacher, there were a lot of reasons I liked hanging out with her. She didn’t treat me like I was stupid all the time like my other “friends” did. Plus, when I was with girls like Veronica, Jordeen, and Summer, they always wanted to compete over who had the smoothest skin, or shiniest hair, or whitest teeth. With Professor Wigglesmith, I didn’t have to compete. I could just be myself. Still, I had to be careful, because she was a certified geek and I was popular. Hanging out with Professor Wigglesmith could ruin my reputation.
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    The next week, when Professor Wigglesmith asked if I would go with her to pick out a dress for the dance, I was careful to meet her at the South Hills Village Mall. We were less