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  • How Not to Be Popular
  • Written by Jennifer Ziegler
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Written by Jennifer ZieglerAuthor Alerts:  Random House will alert you to new works by Jennifer Ziegler

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On Sale: January 08, 2008
Pages: | ISBN: 978-0-375-84648-9
Published by : Delacorte Books for Young Readers RH Childrens Books
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popularity (22) moving (15) friendship (14) ya (11) high school (11) fiction (10) texas (9) romance (9) young adult (8) humor (8) austin (7) fitting in (6) hippies (4) love (4) realistic fiction (4) family (4)
popularity (22) moving (15) friendship (14) ya (11) high school (11)
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Synopsis|Excerpt

Synopsis

Maggie Dempsey is tired of moving all over the country. Her parents are second-generation hippies who uproot her every year or so to move to a new city. When Maggie was younger, she thought it was fun and adventurous. Now that she’s a teenager, she hates it. When she moved after her freshman year, she left behind good friends, a great school, and a real feeling of belonging. When she moved her sophomore year, she left behind a boyfriend, too. Now that they’ve moved to Austin, she knows better. She’s not going to make friends. She’s not going to fit in. Anything to prevent her from liking this new place and them from liking her. Only . . . things don’t go exactly as planned.


From the Hardcover edition.

Excerpt

Tip: Popular girls never go anywhere by themselves. Thus, it must also stand to reason that the unpopular are always alone.

First days of school always make me feel extra alive. My senses just seem magically improved. It’s like I can fully live in the moment and simultaneously float along beside myself, carefully recording everything for later viewing. And this, I know, will become a treasured memory. The kind that replays in full color and digital surround sound, with credits rolling at the end. This will be the day I finally figure out my life. The day I overcome the burden of being a Traveling Dempsey. Today I begin Operation Avoid Friends (OAF?).

Knowing I have nothing to lose this time around makes me feel better about the whole situation. To tell the truth, I’m even a little excited about it.

Of course, this is the first day of school only for me. Everyone else has been here for over two weeks. That’s another thing about my parents: they can’t be on time for anything. First they took their own sweet hippie time making it to Austin; then yesterday they had the entire day to officially enroll me at Lakewood High, but when did we walk in the door? At a quarter to five. The registrar was just about to shut down her computers—something she reminded us of several times as she raced through the enrollment process. Of course Les and Rosie didn’t seem to notice. As Les slowly filled out forms in his ornate handwriting, the lady kept tapping her car keys against her desk. But Rosie just hummed along with the rhythm.

So here I am, getting my first glimpse of Lakewood’s teen population. The students don’t look all that different from Portland kids. Or Seattle or Berkeley or Boulder or Madison or Santa Fe kids, for that matter. All the typical groupings are here. This is my tenth high school, so as you can imagine, I’ve gotten really good at figuring out the cliques and the power rankings, just by noticing the way kids dress and act.

Hanging at the edge of the parking lot, under a cloud of cigarette smoke, are the Thugs, aka Burnouts, Stoners, or Fry-Boys. Rockers and Skaters are subsets of this group, and they overlap like Venn diagrams for partying purposes. Trevor was a part of this group in Portland; shaggy-haired Skaters were the dominant breed there, but it’s obviously different in Austin. Here they seem to be of skinnier, squirrelier stock and they aren’t surrounded by a gaggle of admiring girls.

Sitting at a couple of picnic tables on the front lawn are the Brains. Or Nerds, Honor Roll Dweebs, Debate Club Dorks, or Goobers. Judging by all the big black instrument cases, I’d say most of them take band, which is typical. At other schools I’ve learned that almost all superbrain students take band or orchestra, but not all band or orchestra students are superbrains. Band as phylum, Brains as genus.

Swarming around a stone wall that separates the parking lot from the school is what I guess to be the art and/or theater crowd. A guy in camo pants and a T-shirt with something ironic on it (I’m too far away to read it) is reenacting some outrageous sketch with a bad British accent. Meanwhile his peers cheer him on. A Goth couple in the front is really cracking up, which makes me smile. It’s always funny to see Goths laugh.

And finally, scattered about the covered walkway leading to the school’s front doors are the heads of the high school ecosystem. This category differs slightly from school to school, but usually it includes perfect poser types with an overabundance of money and power. In this case, preppy jocks appear to be the ruling class—mainly guys with football-player builds, spiky flattop hairdos, and urban designer clothes.

There are a few pretty girls sprinkled in with them, but mainly as accessories. I haven’t yet spotted the school’s ruling females, the crowd I typically try to integrate with.

Being part of the power clique means you’re auto- matically protected to a degree. You get access to the best clubs and parties and sometimes have more privileges at school. Everything is just easier. I’ve never made top tier, but I’ve almost always been part of that scene—until this time, that is. Under the rules of my antipopularity plan, I can’t associate with any friendworthy people. Instead I’m going to be one of those weird outsider types—the ones who are always by themselves and give off lots of keep-away vibes. The kind of person no one notices after a while.

“Hey! New girl!” One of the alpha guys calls out to me. He’s cute. Real cute, in fact. Dark blond hair, strong jaw, dimples. I know I’m trying to avoid people, but this guy is so gorgeous it’s hard to look away. “Where’re you from?” he drawls, adding extra emphasis to “you.”

I hear my response in my head. All over the place. It’s a struggle, but I don’t let it out. Instead I tear my gaze off him and fiddle with my messenger bag, hoping he’ll lose interest. Just being near a guy reminds me of Trevor.

“Hey, you! I’m talking to you!” He raises his voice, and out of the corner of my eye, I notice that his pals all turn their heads simultaneously. Even a couple of passersby slow down to watch.

I wish he’d just declare me a weirdo and move on, but instead he hops down off his perch and walks up next to me. His cohorts pivot around, their faces gleaming expectantly.

“Didn’t you hear me?” the guy asks. He leans forward, hovering his face over mine as if to give the best possible view of his perfect cheekbones and navel-sized dimples.

A warm sensation trickles through me—probably hormones. This is the type of guy girls embarrass themselves for, a guy who could possibly help me get over Trevor… but even on the bizarro chance we hooked up (which isn’t likely), who would help me get over him when we move in four months?

As I stand there, sifting through my jumbled thoughts, the guy’s face slowly flattens. “Man, what’s wrong with you?” he asks. “Just trying to be friendly here.”

“Blow her off, Miles,” calls out one of his guy pals. “She’s probably got someone else giving it to her.” Denied any entertainment, the crowd turns back toward the other approaching students.


From the Hardcover edition.
Jennifer Ziegler

About Jennifer Ziegler

Jennifer Ziegler - How Not to Be Popular

Photo © Nils Juul-Hansen

My training to be a writer of teen fiction consisted of the following:

1.Being a teenager. Great fun, but definitely not for sissies. Rampaging hormones, social pressures, horrific fashion mistakes . . . My teen years were mainly spent trying, unsuccessfully, to copy hairstyles of famous female pop figures. However, I did manage to make some truly profound observations of teenage-hood. It’s just too bad I didn’t understand them until years later.

2.Writing. All the time, anytime. While I was growing up, you would find underneath my bed, among the detritus of discarded clothes and cookie wrappers, several spiral notebooks full of short stories, unfinished novels, elaborate doodles for future tattoos, and a comprehensive thesis on who was the cutest member of Duran Duran. I didn’t realize I was preparing for a career, but all that practice made writing feel comfortable–almost like a reflex (which, coincidentally, is a song by Duran Duran). Later, I received degrees in English and Journalism, which also helped, but not as much as regularly jotting down my thoughts.

3.Living.
I’ve visited many beautiful places in the United States, Mexico, and Europe, and whenever I meet new people, be it in a foreign marketplace or local coffee shop, I realize how remarkably diverse everyone is–and how very dull I am in comparison. But I also realize I can draw on these experiences to use in books. Even the various odd jobs I’ve held have in some way prepared me as a writer. The editorial assistant position taught me how to type really fast. Clerking in libraries and bookstores exposed me to all kinds of great writing. My jobs as a nursery school teacher and host for a cable TV show both taught me how to quickly make stuff up on the spot–either to entertain a crying child or to fill up airtime while someone figured out what was unplugged. But it was my years as a middle-school English teacher that proved most valuable. Although much of it was spent trying to convince 14-year-olds that “definitely” has no “a” in it, it also gave me priceless insight into teen life. I might have learned more from my students than I taught them.

Other writing aids:

Cups of extra strong Columbian Supremo with cream and an eensy bit of sugar. Every year I personally see to it that the coffee industry earns record profits.

Unflappable family members who don’t get mad or call 911 when I stay in my office for hours, typing and muttering to myself.

Wonderful friends who love me for the flibbertigibbet that I am. These people don’t mind when I call them up in a caffeine-induced frenzy, reading aloud sections of my draft and asking oddball questions.

Time spent not writing. When I’m not plugged into the computer, I refuel by reading great books, watching cool films and irreverent cartoons, twisting myself into yoga positions, and hanging out with above-mentioned friends and family.
Praise | Awards

Praise

"Zippy and full of wit, Ziegler’s work is engaging, touching, and full of laughs." - Rob Thomas, author of Rat Saw God and creator of Veronica Mars

“Maggie and Jack’s relationship rings true, adding an irresistible sincerity to both characters that allows Maggie’s self-discovery and growth to unfold naturally. Thoughtful and fun.”—Kirkus Reviews


From the Hardcover edition.

Awards

WINNER 2010 IRA Young Adult Choices
WINNER Texas Lone Star Reading List

  • How Not to Be Popular by Jennifer Ziegler
  • March 09, 2010
  • Juvenile Fiction - Social Situations
  • Delacorte Books for Young Readers
  • $8.99
  • 9780440240242

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