They wouldn’t make basket boy, but then I wouldn’t be bidding, so it didn’t really matter.
At the bell I handed over my ballot and forgot all about the auction. Until lunchtime the next day, that is.
Darla cut me off on my way to the library and dragged me over to her table instead. “Have you seen the list?” she asked.
“What list?” “The list of basket boys!” She shoved a scrawled copy of twenty names in front of me and looked around.
“Your main dish is on it!” Five from the top, there it was—Bryce Loski.
I should have expected it, but still, this awful surge of possessiveness shot through me.
Who had voted for him? Out of one hundred fifty names he must have gotten a lot of votes!
Suddenly I was picturing a swarm of girls waving stacks of cash in the Booster ladies’ faces as they begged to have lunch with him.
I threw the list back at Darla and said, “He’s not my main dish! As a matter of fact, I didn’t even vote for him.”
“Oooo, girl! You are stickin’ to your diet!” “It’s not a diet, Darla. I’m… I’m over him, okay?”
I’m glad to hear it, ’cause rumor is, that bimbette Shelly is already stakin’ her claim on him.
“Shelly? Shelly Stalls?” I could feel my cheeks flush. “That’s right.”
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