Dating on the Dork Side -- SAMPLE

She Smells F**king Fantastic

I couldn't remember the website address. I couldn't find it in Google either. Someone had made sure that search engines didn't pick up the site. I shut my eyes, trying to visualize the address field. It was like a test, and I was good at those. Wiki, I thought; that was part of it. The rest were letters. Initials. T-H-O-T?

All I got was a blank page. Then I smiled and swapped numeral 0 for the letter O, and I was in!

I glanced over my shoulder. My room was at the opposite end of the house from the driveway. Any minute, Dad could pull up, walk in, and be up the stairs before I realized it. I eased my bedroom door closed. A girl couldn't have too much privacy, especially when she was about to hack into a website called The Hotties of Troy.

Back at my desk, my fingers shook so hard that the first time I tried the login, I messed it up. I tried again, hoping Jason hadn't gone all security-conscious since that afternoon.

He hadn't. For several heartbeats, I stared at the girl wiki in all its chauvinistic glory. Enough time had passed that my name no longer came up on the recently-accessed list. And let's face it, no way would I pop up in any kind of hottie list. I used the box at the top of the page to search for myself.

My name appeared, and all I had to do was click on it to get to my page. I pushed away from my desk again, cracked the door, just an inch, and listened hard. Then I rushed back, clicked on my name, and hid my face in my hands.

I had all of four entries, two from last spring and two from today.

Admin: She always smells good.

Oh. Well. Let's hear it for hygiene.

Adm*n: She smells f**king fantastic.

Okay, really good hygiene.

jasona: UR rite. She smells like a chick should ... not all perfumey and fake. And bro, she was totally checking me out in the tutoring room today. I'm going to have to fail something this year, get some up close academic help, if ya know what I mean.

Only someone with an ego the size of Jason's would assume any girl who glanced at him was checking him out.

Adm*n: Dude, how's failing this year different from any other year?

I snorted, starting to like this Adm*n with an asterisk guy. I clicked on the home page again, but then I sat back in my chair and thought: What now? I felt like I should tell someone. The principal? Ms. Pendergast?

Or maybe the person who had the most at stake in all this, the one who topped every list, recently-accessed, recently-updated, hottest of the hot: the one and only ... Elle Emerson.

I clicked over to her page and read the first comment:

jasona: Bro, totally hot, but completely lethal. I don't have any pics from today's cheerleading practice cuz she tossed my phone into the bleachers and I lost the battery.

Well, that explained why Jason had been in the tutoring room, using a computer instead of his phone. And that was Elle, all right. She had all the intelligence and ambition of a Hillary Clinton packed into the body of a Victoria's Secret model. Elle was student council president, star performer in the debate club, captain of the cheerleading squad, and when I say she ruled the school, I mean she literally Ruled. The. School. No one crossed Elle and escaped unscathed.

More comments littered her page, way more than my measly four. There seemed to be nothing about Elle that wasn't being discussed. Her class schedule was posted, along with a list of her favorite school lunch entrees. Someone who called himself mchottie pointed out that Elle hadn't eaten broccoli since sixth grade, when it got stuck in her braces. Another boy disagreed. He'd witnessed her eating it with cheese sauce on a baked potato at Wendy's last year.