Then at break I was at my locker when Shelly Stalls appeared out of nowhere.
She got right next to me and said, “I hear you’re planning to bid on him.”
“What?” I took a step back. “Who told you that? I am not!”
“Someone said they saw you with a whole wad of cash this morning. How much do you have?”
“It’s… it’s none of your business. And I’m not bidding, okay? I… I don’t even like him anymore.”
She laughed, “Oh, that’ll be the day!” “It’s true.” I slammed my locker closed.
Go ahead and waste your money on him. I don’t care.
I left her there with her mouth open, which felt even better than getting her in a headlock.
That feeling carried me clear through to eleven o’clock, when the entire student body assembled in the gymnasium.
I was not going to bid on Bryce Loski. No way! Then the basket boys came out on the stage.
Bryce looked so adorable holding a picnic basket with red-and-white-checked napkins peeking out from either side,
and the thought of Shelly Stalls flipping one of those napkins into her lap nearly made the bills in my pocket burst into flames.
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