Poseur by Compai Read Free Book Online Page A

Um, Nomanlanders didn’t need one.
    “Good morning, everyone!” Glen crowed, cupping his hands to his mouth. He tucked his wiry gray bangs behind his ears and cleared
     his throat, waiting for them to
simmer down.
As usual, they didn’t. Glen watched them with a mixture of impatience and fear, like an inexperienced chef on television.
    “Welcome to the first Town Meeting of the year!” he called out, inciting a riot of hoots and hollers. “I know it’s the first
     day and we’re all excited to see each other after a long and hopefully restorative summer break. But we have a lot of very
     important announcements that require your undivided attention. So eyes on me. Let’s do our best to focus.”
    At that, all 314 students assumed butterfly position on the brushed concrete floor. A hush fell over the crowd. Glen clasped
     his hands, pleased. But (predictably) his sense of success was short-lived. He realized their attention, though undivided,
     was focused on decidedly
non-Glen
subject matter. In other words, their eyes were very clearly
not
on him — but on someone else. Someone behind him.
    Which is why he turned around.
    Janie entered the assembly hall, mortified to find every single pair of eyes fixed on her. She tugged at the hem of her green
     miniskirt and stared at the ground. She knew what they were thinking:
here comes Janie Farrish, Melissa Moon’s new hood ornament. Make way for Janie Farrish, Melissa Moon’s personal speed bump.
     Check out Janie Farrish, Melissa Moon’s latest roadkill.
Except, of course, she was worse than roadkill.
    Roadkill had the decency to die.
    In order to get to her seat in No Man’s Land, she would have to weave through the vast crowd of kids sitting on the floor.
     Under normal circumstances, walking through the crowd was no big deal. But today she was wearing the micro-mini. All someone
     would have to do was look
up
and then . . . oh God. She couldn’t even think about it.
    Janie was faced with a choice: assume her rightful place in No Man’s Land and risk everyone seeing her underwear, or sit down
     exactly where she was. Except exactly where she was happened to be the Back Wall. The Back Wall (aka “Ganja Ghetto”) belonged
     to kids cool enough to spend lunch break in celebrity rehab. Basic Rule: if you don’t resemble the best-looking member of
     Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band,
sit someplace else.
But for once, Janie didn’t care. Especially since she was wearing her Valentine panties from Target. The pair with IN YOUR DREAMS printed over and over in a tiny, bright pink font.
    She found an empty space next to Joaquin Whitman and, even though he smelled like patchouli and pickles, Janie folded her
     knees and sat down. To her surprise, Joaquin greeted her with a gentle smile and a singsong, “wha-a-tsu-up?”
    “Whatsup,” she replied, half-wondering if his cheeriness was some kind of setup.
    “Chillin’.” Joaquin nodded, adjusting the headphones to his nano. He smiled, bobbing his head like a dashboard ornament. Janie
     breathed a sigh of relief. Joaquin didn’t seem to care if she sat there at all. He was even
nice.
    She craned her neck, scanning the great stretch of No Man’s Land for Jake. He was nowhere to be found. With heavy heart, Janie
     turned west. Her instincts were right. There he was, sitting next to
her.
Janie wished she could say her brother looked out of place but he didn’t. With his new tousled haircut and dewy complexion,
     his threadbare cowboy shirt and beat-up Converse All Stars, Jake Farrish looked like your basic West Wall poster child. Janie
     watched as Charlotte Beverwil removed her canary-yellow headband and pushed it through Jake’s hair, laughing. Jake took the
     whole thing in stride.
Ugh,
Janie thought.
Who does he think he is?
    Just then, Bethany Snee, one of Janie’s only friends at Winston and fellow Nomanlander, caught her eye.
Who does she think she is,
Bethany’s fat fish-lips appeared to mouth to