Of All the Stupid Things Read Online Free

you,” I mumble.
“What?”
“Nothing,” I say quickly. “Parents aren’t important. You know and like my friends. I mean, Pink’s practically your sister, so you’ve got that rule covered.”
“Cool. What’s next?”
I read out the remaining questions and we conclude that he scores eight out of ten. Well, he says he got a perfect score since the two he missed don’t apply—they were about being good in bed. I stay firm on giving him an eight out of ten score. David then says the typical guy thing. “So, let’s see if I can win those extra two points.”
I flick my hair over my shoulders. “In your dreams.”
David shrugs. “Why not? I mean, you’re not seeing anyone and I got everything else right. Aren’t these all the things you want in a perfect guy?”
“Sure, but he also has to be good looking with lots of money,” I answer quickly.
“Ah, money,” David pats his pockets. “I’ll have to work on that one. But for now, you want to grab an ice cream before we start our homework?”
I stuff the magazine in my bag. It wasn’t a very good article after all. It forgot to list rule eleven: always offer to take a woman out for a treat. Even though David says he doesn’t have much, he never seems to mind spending what he has.
Now if only he could look a bit more like Brent.

Pinkie
     
I GET TO THE CLASSROOM EARLY. A FEW TIMES A month, the school’s Honor Society gets together. Sometimes we discuss important things like what colleges want to see on applications and developing good study habits. But we also attend lectures and volunteer in the community. Once a year we have dinner with the mayor, and at the end of the year, if there is still money left in the budget, we have a field trip to the city and go to a couple museums. It’s lots of fun. Really.
I start rearranging the desks so that we’re in a circle. That’s how Nash likes them. He likes everyone to be able to see everyone else. Nash is really smart that way. Well, he’s brilliant in all ways. He knows everything about everything, speaks something like five languages (his voice-mail message is always in a combination of English and some other language), and can do advanced math in his head. Rumor has it that he deferred from Harvard until he has saved up enough money to go. That’s why he’s here, being our advisor, while the rest of the time he bartends at this really expensive restaurant Whitney Blaire’s parents go to. He’s amazing.
“Hey Pinkie, thanks for setting things up.” Nash comes in and gives me a big hug. I beam and hug him back. The world would be much better if more people hugged.
“We’ve got some interesting stuff to go over,” he continues as he sets down his things. “I hope we have a good turnout.”
“I talked with a few girls and they’re way excited about coming,” I tell him, and then instantly wish I had kept my mouth shut. Do I always sound so stupid? Quick, say something clever and funny and mind-blowing. “Did you know that rats get turned on by marijuana, while small doses of radiation do it for earthworms?”
Nash laughs and I blush even more. Where did that come from? Stupid, stupid Pinkie. I might as well tape my mouth shut for all the good it does for me. I fuss with the desks as people start to arrive. Nash hugs the girls and gives the guys a half-hug pat on the back. One boy, Andre, comes in with a black eye. Nash tries to hug him properly, but Andre pushes him away, saying he’s fine and that it was just a stupid soccer injury. Nash sighs and then sits on top of one of the desks.
“All right, let’s get started.”
I already have paper and a pen out to start scribbling away. Once in a while I sneak glances up at Nash. Whitney Blaire says he’s funny looking, Tara thinks there’s nothing special about him, and okay, I admit it, he’s not a heartthrob. He’s got this messy, dark brown hair like he just rolled out of bed, and a big nose that looks out of place in his narrow face. But he