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your father. We’re both so proud of you.”
    “Speak for yourself,” Chris said. “Personally, I think Mia is whacked in the head. There’s no way she can beat Cassie Foster for president. Cassie is phat.”
    “Chris,” my dad said, “we don’t make fun of people’s weight in this house.”
    “Dad, you’re so past it. Cassie’s phat , not fat. Like, she’s only the hottest and most popular girl in the freshman class at St. Hilary’s. Plus, she has a body that won’t quit. Man, I wish there were some chicks like her in my seventh grade class.”
    “That is enough, Chris,” my mom said, spooning another heap of mashed potatoes onto his plate.
    I swallowed the last chunk of my meatloaf and asked, “May I be excused?”
    “No way! It’s your turn to do dishes!” Chris yelled.
    “Can we switch and I’ll do them tomorrow night?”
    “Why? What could you possibly have to do tonight, besides read the dictionary for fun?”
    “I’m playing basketball with Tim from next door.” I poured on the charm. “So, will you please switch dish duty with me?”
    “I’ll switch if you give me five bucks.”
    I rolled my eyes. “No longer are you beneath my contempt.”

    “I thought you were going to play basketball. Why’d you take a shower?” Chris asked as he pocketed the five bucks from my babysitting stash. “If you’re trying to impress Tim with your looks, you’d better forget it. You’re so ugly that when you walk into Taco Bell, everyone runs for the border!”
    Ignoring him, I slammed the back door behind me.
    I shot a few free throws to warm up before I saw Tim cross his backyard. It would’ve been much easier to hate him if he wasn’t so cute.
    “Are you feeling better? I can handle a retainer on my shoe, but your dinner landing on me is a whole different story.” Tim took the ball from me and made a perfect free throw.
    “I’ve never felt better,” I said. “You’re not trying to chicken out, are you?”
    “No way. Are you ready for total annihilation?”
    “Don’t bet on it. Play to ten, win by two?” I threw him the ball.
    “Should be a quick game, then.” Tim tossed me the ball. “You check it.”
    I took the ball out and as Tim came toward me, I was distracted by the faint scent of cologne. Coming to my senses, I faked left, cross dribbled, and went for a lay-up. This time, I made sure I pushed off with my left foot and followed through—there’d be no retainers flying through the air during this game.
    “Nice shot,” he said. “Lucky I let you have that one, because that’s all you’re going to get,” Tim said, taking the ball. Dribbling once and stopping, he popped a perfect jump shot to tie the score. “Poetry in motion,” he said, tossing me the ball.
    “More like motion sickness.” I dribbled behind my back so Tim couldn’t steal. I cross dribbled again and shot the ball. “Swoosh— nothing but net!” I said.
    The game continued point for point. Tim thwarted every trick I knew, but I didn’t let him have the advantage. The score was twenty up—neither of us could get the winning two-point edge.
    “I heard you’re running for class president,” Tim panted as he stole the ball from me.
    “Yeah, where’d you hear that?” I replied, stealing the ball back and attempting a lay-up. The shot bounced off the rim and Tim rebounded it.
    “Cassie called me before dinner. She wants me to work on her campaign. She says she wants fresh ideas,” Tim answered, knocking one in from the baseline.
    “More like fresh meat,” I muttered as I fumbled the rebound.
    “What’d you say?” Tim asked, missing his shot.
    “I said I think it’s great. You two are perfect for each other.” I hurled an air ball. “Anyway, Jake Harris might want to help me—he’s the one who seconded my nomination.”
    “Then I guess I’ll tell her ‘okay’.” Tim rebounded the ball and sank the winning shot. “That’s it, twenty-two to twenty. Next time I’ll play at full