Meg Cabot - Airhead

Books by Meg Cabot

The Princess Diaries series

The Mediator series

All American Girl
All American Girl: Ready or Not

Avalon High
Avalon High manga: The Merlin Prophecy
Teen Idol
How to Be Popular
Jinx
Tommy Sullivan Is a Freak
Nicola and the Viscount
Victoria and the Rogue

For younger readers

Allie Finkles Rules for Girls: Moving Day

For older readers

The Guy Next Door
Boy Meets Girl
Every Boys Got One
Queen of Babble
Size 12 Is Not Fat
Size 14 Is Not Fat Either
Size Doesnt Matter

Also available in audio

MACMILLAN

First published 2008 by Macmillan Childrens Books

This electronic edition published 2008 by Macmillan Childrens Books
a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited
20 New Wharf Rd, London N1 9RR
Basingstoke and Oxford
Associated companies throughout the world
www.panmacmillan.com

ISBN 978-0-330-47937-0 in Adobe Reader format
ISBN 978-0-330-47936-3 in Adobe Digital Editions format
ISBN 978-0-330-47938-7 in Mobipocket format

Copyright Meg Cabot LLC 2008

The right of Meg Cabot to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

You may not copy, store, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

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Contents

For Benjamin

Many thanks to Beth Ader, Jennifer Brown, Michele Jaffe, Susan Juby, Laura Langlie, Abigail McAden, Rachel Vail and especially Benjamin Egnatz

One

Emerson Watts, called my first-period Public Speaking teacher, Mr Greer, startling me from the light doze into which Id drifted.

Well, whatever. Do they really expect us to be alert at eight fifteen in the morning? Come on.

Here, I called, jerking my head from the top of my desk and surreptitiously feeling the side of my mouth, just in case Id been drooling.

But I guess I didnt do it surreptitiously enough, since Whitney Robertson, seated with her long, tanned legs crossed beneath a desk a few feet away from mine, snickered, and hissed, Loser.

I threw her a dirty look and mouthed, Bite me .

To which she responded by narrowing her heavily made-up baby-blue eyes at me and mouthing back smugly, You wish .

Em, Mr Greer said with a yawn. I guess hed been up pretty late last night too. Only Im guessing it wasnt because hed been frantically finishing his homework for this class, like I was. I wasnt calling roll. Its time for you to give the class your two-minute persuasive oral piece. Were going in reverse alphabetical order, remember?

Great. Just great.

Chagrined, I slid out from behind my desk and made my way to the front of the room while the rest of the class tittered. All except Whitney, I saw. Thats because she had dug her compact mirror out of her bag and was gazing at her own reflection. Lindsey Jacobs, seated in the row beside hers, stared at Whitney admiringly and whispered, That shade of gloss is so you .

I know, Whitney murmured to her reflection.

I fought off a reflexive urge to gag because I was about to speak in public, not because of their exchange... although I guess that could have had something to do with it and turned round to face the room. Twenty-four sleepy faces blinked back at me.

And I realized I had completely forgotten the speech Id been up half the night writing.

All right, Emerson, Mr Greer said, youve got two minutes. He looked down at his watch. And...

Amazing. The second he said that, my mind went even more blank. All I could think was... how did she know? Lindsey, I mean. That that shade of lipgloss was so right on Whitney? I have been alive nearly seventeen years and I still have no idea what shade of lipgloss looks good on me... or anybody else, for that matter.

I blame my dad. Hes the one who gave me a boys name to begin with, since hed been so sure I was going to be one despite what the ultrasound had shown because I kicked my mom so much while I was in the womb. Dad insisted on naming me after his favourite poet, which is what you get when your father teaches university-level English literature. I guess my mom was still high off her epidural or something, because she totally let him, even after the ultrasound turned out to be right. So Emerson Watts is what it says on my birth certificate.

I know. I was a victim of sexual stereotyping in utero. How many girls can claim that?

... go , Mr Greer said, turning on his oven timer.

And just like that, all the research Id done on my assigned topic the night before came flooding back.

Phew.

Females, I began, make up thirty-nine per cent of people who play interactive computer games, and yet only a small fraction of the games created by the estimated thirty-five-billion-dollar worldwide gaming industry is geared towards female players.

I paused... but it didnt matter.

I guess I couldnt really blame them. It was barely nine in the morning, after all.

Even Christopher, who lives in my building and is supposedly my best friend, wasnt paying attention. He was in his normal seat in the back row, and he was upright.

But his eyes were closed.

A study, I went on, by the Higher Education Research Institute at UCLA showed that the percentage of computer degrees granted to women has now dropped to an all time low of less than thirty per cent. Computer science is the only field in which womens participation is actually decreasing over time...

Oh, God. No one in first-period Public Speaking was awake now but me. Even Mr Greers eyes had drifted shut.

Terrific. Way to be part of the problem, Mr Greer, and not the solution.

Many researchers believe this is due to our educational system failing to engage girls in the sciences particularly computer science during the middle school years, I battled on, staring directly at Mr Greer. Not that he noticed. He was now gently snoring.

Great. Just great. I mean, Id been slightly psyched when Id gotten my topic, because the truth is, I like computer games. Well, one computer game, anyway.

So what can be done to keep girls interested in gaming, I went on desperately, which studies show increases problem-solving and strategic abilities, and also helps develop social interaction skills and cooperative play?

There was no point, I realized. Really.

Well, I said, I could strip off my clothes and reveal to you that under my jeans and sweatshirt Im actually wearing a tank top and short shorts, much like Lara Croft from Tomb Raider ... only mine are flame retardant and covered in glow-in-the-dark dinosaur stickers.