Sara Wolf | 5 Tips To Survive High School (and win wars against the Pretty Boys!)
Isis Blakeโs Five Rules For Winning Wars Against Pretty Boys And Other Vital
Protips For Surviving High School
Never trust them: When girls turn 13, thereโs this crazy
phenomenon I like to call โthe grownup syndromeโ that happens to them. All of a
sudden, dudes think itโs okay to snap bras, call girls whores, and sexualize
their bods without their consent. Itโs a tragic product of the patriarchy! And
idiocy. But mostly patriarchy. Thereโs only one way to deal with teenage boys,
and thatโs to never trust them ever. Theyโre programmed to see girls as objects
for their gratification and that is kind of extremely gross!
Teenage boys donโt know how to kiss: Sure, the movies like
to pretend they do, but outside of sparkling not-real vampire stalkers, kissing
is a foreign concept to most boys. Except Jack Hunter. Donโt ask me how I know
that โ I might die from embarrassment. Or punch his face all over again.
Regardless, theyโll try to suck your face like a lemon and itโll be a very wet,
and very scarring, experience. Let them mack on some other girl and get a bit of
experience before they worm their way over to you. Alternatively, never kiss
anyone ever. We good? Good.
Fake it till you make it: Frozen and every spy
handbook ever had it right โ donโt let your emotions show. Keep everyone
guessing โ the less people know about how you really feel, the safer you are.
Unless itโs your BFF. And maybe even then, keep the goriest details to yourself.
Rumors will start even if you donโt want them to, and they usually come from the
people you trust most. If your face lets a guy know how you feel, a guy will use
it to try and get in your pants. Or your friends pants. Or, in Jack Hunterโs
case, heโll use it to get to know you better and try to convince you youโre
worthy of love again. Ew.
Keep on your toes at all times: Especially if youโre a
practicing ballerina. If youโre not, just walk around generally tip-toed. That
way, you look both tall and intimidating with the added bonus of raising your
view-height โ youโll see your enemies coming from a mile away. Staying aware
means being able to see when a guy tries to slip you a roofie in your drink, or
hit on your extremely judgement-impaired drunk friend. If the world canโt do
girls a solid and prevent assault, youโve gotta do all the dirty,
self-preservation work yourself.
Donโt fall for good looks: Guys who look good can coast on
chiseled brows and fine noses and ice-blue eyes, meaning girls let them off the
hook for their skunk-stink behavior just for a chance to kiss pretty lips. We
all know that one guy whoโs got a terrible attitude but a rockinโ six pack, and
he goes through ladies like throat lozenges in flu season, and we all sort of
want to punch him in the dick. With a boxing glove. Thereโs more to life than
looks, ladies! Like kindness! And doughnuts! Bonus points if he can make
doughnuts kindly.
Read the book that Kirkus Review called: "A complex, witty
page-turner, ideal for YA fans of scandal and romance."
Seventeen-year-old
Isis Blake hasnโt fallen in love in three years, nine weeks, and five days, and
after what happened last time, she intends to keep it that way. Since then sheโs
lost eighty-five pounds, gotten four streaks of purple in her hair, and moved to
Buttcrack-of-Nowhere, Ohio, to help her mom escape a bad relationship.
All
the girls in her new school want one thing―Jack Hunter, the Ice Prince of
East Summit High. Hot as an Armani ad, smart enough to get into Yale, and colder
than the Arctic, Jack Hunterโs never gone out with anyone. Sure, people have
seen him downtown with beautiful women, but heโs never given high school girls
the time of day. Until Isis punches him in the face.
Jackโs met his match.
Suddenly everything is a game.
The goal: Make the other beg for
mercy.
The game board: East Summit High. The reward: Something neither
of them expected.
Previously published as Lovely Vicious, this
fully revised and updated edition is full of romance, intrigue, and
laugh-out-loud moments.
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