The Clueless Girl's Guide to Being a Genius Read Online Free Page A

I would instill confidence and inspire effort.
    This class riot had not been part of my calculations, but I would not let it deter me. As soon as the students ran out of spitball ammunition, I would crawl out from under my desk and get to work.

4
    Mindy Describes Meeting Aphrodite for the First Time
    T hat’s just like Aphrodite to totally forget how she bashed into me and almost killed me and to instead talk about the first day in her classroom. This is how we met: I was dumping stuff in my locker, and I was ticked because Mr. Green, my biology teacher, had just yelled at me for something I didn’t do—my homework. Suddenly, some dumb book sailed over my head, crashed, and flopped down in front of me
    â€œI’ve got it,” this huge seventh grader cried as he scooped it up. He did a victory dance like a football player scoring a touchdown. “Oh, yeah.”
    Bobby DeGuy, the principal’s son, rushed him. Even though he had gotten held back in third grade, Bobby was still the smallest boy in the eighth grade, and whenever anyone wanted to play monkey in the middle, Bobby was always the monkey. “Give it back—or else,” he said.
    â€œWhatcha gonna do?” the bigger boy teased. “Tell Daddy?” He sent the book sailing to another boy, whose left hook sent it crashing into the locker right at my feet.
    If it had been something important to me at the time, I might have picked it up—but it was just a stupid math book, so I stepped over it and kept walking. I had a bigger concern, a chipped nail, and not just a chip in the glittery peach polish. The nail tip was a complete jagged mess. Naturally, I headed for the bathroom.
    If I’m going to be late for class, I thought, I might as well take my time. I used an emery board to smooth and shape it, and touched up the edge with my spare polish. The girls in my class always made a fuss about my nails being long and fancy, but they had no idea what a giant pain it was to keep them looking good. Since I never knew when Mom might ask me to help with a manicure customer, I was pretty much stuck keeping them “perfect” all the time. Miss Brenda said I should get extra points when I competed for not whacking them off with my baton. I pulled out the novelty folding baton I kept in my backpack and gave it a few spins, using the breeze to dry the nails, before checking my face in the mirror.
    For my thirteenth birthday, Mom had bought me a makeup kit the size of Montana. She said applying blush under the cheekbones would make my face look thinner and using mascara would make my eyes look larger. Grandma Lucy always says you shouldn’t judge a cover by its book, or was it a book by its cover? Anyway, Mom disagreed.
    â€œBeauty is the family business,” Mom had explained to me. “When you look bad, Tiffany’s House of Beauty and Nails looks bad.”
    Beauty was easy for Mom because she had wavy auburn hair and was naturally glamorous. Even her name, Tiffany, was pretty. What kind of a boring name is Mindy? In addition to a totally dumb name, I got stuck with boring brown hair I have to wash every day, and, even worse, a nose that breaks out in stupid freckles if I forget to wear concealer and sunblock. No matter what you look like, Mom tells her customers, the trick is to act like you’re pretty. If you think you are, you will be. So even though I felt like a total fake sometimes, that’s what I tried to do.
    I changed my eyelids from lilac to blue and rubbed strawberry lotion into my hands. I bent down, tossing my long hair over my head, and brushed fifty times. By the time I checked my watch, class was half over and, really, it’s better not to go at all when you’re that late. So I grabbed a fashion magazine from my backpack and read “How to Eat Yourself Slim with Chocolate Cupcakes.” When the bell rang, I hurried to my next class. I could always make up an excuse why I missed one