Prom Theory
(Sprache: Englisch)
In this heartwarming and whip-smart YA spin on The Rosie Project, a teen girl is determined to prove that love, like all things, should be scientifically quantified...right?
Iris Oxtabee has managed to navigate the tricky world of unspoken social...
Iris Oxtabee has managed to navigate the tricky world of unspoken social...
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In this heartwarming and whip-smart YA spin on The Rosie Project, a teen girl is determined to prove that love, like all things, should be scientifically quantified...right?Iris Oxtabee has managed to navigate the tricky world of unspoken social interactions by reading everything from neuroscience journals to Wikipedia articles. Science has helped her fit the puzzle pieces into an understandable whole, and she's sure there's nothing it can't explain. Love, for example, is just chemistry.
Her best friend Seth, however, believes love is one of life's beautiful and chaotic mysteries, without need for explanation. Iris isn't one to back down from a challenge; she's determined to prove love is really nothing more than hormones and external stimuli. After all, science has allowed humanity to understand more complex mysteries than that, and Iris excels at science.
The perfect way to test her theory? Get the popular and newly single Theo Grant, who doesn't even know Iris exists, to ask her to prom. With prom just two weeks away, Iris doesn't have any time to waste, so she turns her keen empirical talents and laser-focus attention to testing her theory.
But will proving herself correct cause her friendship with Seth-and the tantalizing possibility for something more-to become the failed experiment?
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Chapter One Chapter One
Monday
The fact that my mother and I were going to be only fifteen minutes early to school rather than my preferred twenty-five minutes had me noisily chewing gum. There was a standard rule against gum in school, but my mother, tired of my nervous habit of chewing my shirt sleeve cuffs and collars, had made a brilliant argument for granting me dispensation from that hard and fast rule. I no longer needed it every day for the anxiety relief it provided, but this morning had me reaching for the Juicy Fruit. It was going to be at least a three-pack day.
"We're going to be late," I said. It was imperative that I had some quiet time to get my books lined up in my locker in the order of my classes. My mother sighed and shook her head. Curls pulled free from her hasty attempt at a ponytail.
"Sorry, it's just I have an exam and-well, you know...," I said.
Her frown quickly softened. "I forgot, I'm sorry. Trig, right? You work so hard in that class, I'm sure you'll do fine. Do you have everything you need? Calculator and, um, what's it called?"
"Protractor. You're an artist, you should know what they're called," I said as I crossed my arms and tried to keep my toes from tapping. If we were lucky, we'd make all the lights and save a few minutes of the lost time.
"I know what they are. I just never address them by name." She glanced at me with a grin.
"Please don't. You talk to the Roomba as it is. That's more than enough anthropomorphism to justify you considering the appliances family members."
"Your father travels for work, you're in school all day-who else am I supposed to talk to?"
I ignored that. She was trying to distract me from my worries. I would have none of it. I needed to stay on track. "Yes, I have everything."
"Be sure to request to take the test in the library. Oh, and remember your IEP gives you time and a half to take tests. Be sure you use all of it."
"I will, but the time and a half
... mehr
will cut into my lit class. I'll have to go in late... and everyone stares at me."
Talking about this was not making things better. My heart rate was approaching tachycardiac levels. Fight-or-flight instinct? My sympathetic nervous system was clearly preparing me to run as fast and as far as I could from the threat of awkward social situations that are broadly known as high school.
"Hey, we made great time! I don't think many of the buses are here yet," my mother said as we pulled up to the entrance of Hillcrest High.
She leaned over and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. "You're going to have a wonderful day." I could hear the hope in her voice. She knew better.
"Yes. Well. Love you. Bye." I got out of the baby-blue vintage Volkswagen Beetle and closed the door before she could kiss me again. I sprinted up the steps and into school, not slowing down until my locker and Esther were in sight.
Esther Oplinger had been the resident of the locker to the right of mine since middle school. You could say she was one of my best friends. The truth of it was, I had only two friends. One lived next door to me, and the other had the locker next to mine. So as far as I was concerned, I had two best friends. That was enough for me, and some days it was too many.
Proximity and repeated meetings throughout the day, over many years, apparently made friendships not just easier, but possible. I wasn't comfortable with people, loud noise, wool socks, or much of anything, really. I certainly failed trying to engage in hallway exchanges that offered little more than gossip about people I didn't know or understand.
If people were tal
Talking about this was not making things better. My heart rate was approaching tachycardiac levels. Fight-or-flight instinct? My sympathetic nervous system was clearly preparing me to run as fast and as far as I could from the threat of awkward social situations that are broadly known as high school.
"Hey, we made great time! I don't think many of the buses are here yet," my mother said as we pulled up to the entrance of Hillcrest High.
She leaned over and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. "You're going to have a wonderful day." I could hear the hope in her voice. She knew better.
"Yes. Well. Love you. Bye." I got out of the baby-blue vintage Volkswagen Beetle and closed the door before she could kiss me again. I sprinted up the steps and into school, not slowing down until my locker and Esther were in sight.
Esther Oplinger had been the resident of the locker to the right of mine since middle school. You could say she was one of my best friends. The truth of it was, I had only two friends. One lived next door to me, and the other had the locker next to mine. So as far as I was concerned, I had two best friends. That was enough for me, and some days it was too many.
Proximity and repeated meetings throughout the day, over many years, apparently made friendships not just easier, but possible. I wasn't comfortable with people, loud noise, wool socks, or much of anything, really. I certainly failed trying to engage in hallway exchanges that offered little more than gossip about people I didn't know or understand.
If people were tal
... weniger
Autoren-Porträt von Ann LaBar
LaBar, Ann Ann LaBar is a poet, writer, actor, and educator. She lives in the wilds of Pennsylvania with two dogs, a leopard gecko, a ferret, ten hens, and a ridiculously adventurous husband. When not writing, Ann desperately tries to match wits with her husband and two intellectually gifted, grown children.
Produktdetails
- Autor: Ann LaBar
- Altersempfehlung: Ab 12 Jahre
- 2021, 400 Seiten, Maße: 14,5 x 21,6 cm, Gebunden, Englisch
- Verlag: Simon & Schuster US
- ISBN-10: 1534463089
- ISBN-13: 9781534463080
- Erscheinungsdatum: 07.04.2021
Sprache:
Englisch
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