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shoulder ever since.
    â€œIt used to be called the spring dance for lower grades,” Danny had continued.
    Meanwhile Jess smiled at me and muttered, “Betty dance. Honestly!” under her breath.
    â€œOur last principal picked the name because, as she continually reminded us, the lower grades were very lucky to have a dance at all when most schools just have a senior dance.”
    â€œShe had to give it a Latin name to try to make it sound boring and educational.” Jess grinned.
    â€œSounds fun to me.”
    â€œNot really.” Jess shrugged. “It’s really just an excuse for people like Sophie Parker to show off.”
    â€œOh come on.” Danny laughed. “You had a good time last year.”
    â€œThe highlight was when you fell over on the dance floor.”
    â€œI did not fall over,” Danny protested, going bright red. “I was doing the worm.”
    â€œDo you go with a . . . date?” I asked timidly, pretending not to really care.
    â€œMost people do. Danny and I just went together.” Jess sighed. “Although I pretended I didn’t know him when he fell over.”
    â€œI told you, I was doing the worm!”
    â€œIt didn’t look like the worm. It looked like you fell over and had hurt your hip or something.”
    I had worried about the dance all during Christmas vacation. If Jess and Danny were going to go together again, who would I go with? They weren’t going to want a tagalong.
    Now that I’ve set a girl on fire, I don’t think my chances of getting a date are much improved.
    I did consider putting a bow tie on Dog and going down the comedy route, but then I decided that I should play it safe, and if I was going to bring anyone they should probably be human.
    Sophie Parker and Josie Graham are representing our grade on the Beatus committee of course. This means that they have to give up some of their lunch breaks to stand behind a table and sell raffle tickets to try to raise money for the dance budget. The prize is a two-week internship over spring break with Brendan’s mom, who is a photographer.
    â€œYour dad should have offered an internship,” Jess commented, as we watched Sophie and Josie giggle with some other pretty girls in our grade who were buying plenty of tickets each. “Everyone would have bought tickets then, not just the school’s princess contingent.”
    I snorted. “Sadly you exaggerate. I hardly think anyone at this school is interested in tanks.”
    â€œWhatever—he interviews celebrities all the time.”
    â€œI guess.” I shrugged. “Most of the time he just sits at home yelling about writer’s block and standing still with his forehead against the wall. He says it helps him think. He can stand there for about half an hour. Once I stood with him with my forehead against the wall to see what happened. I got no inspiration whatsoever. We both just stood there in silence with our heads touching the wall until I finally got hungry and left him to it. Not sure an intern would be a good idea.”
    â€œThey’re so embarrassing.” Jess shook her head as Josie took out a pocket mirror and admired herself. “I bet Sophie has already bought half the tickets. The idea of getting in there with Brendan’s family will be the only thing she cares about. She couldn’t care less about the internship.”
    â€œWhy don’t you buy a raffle ticket? You’re pretty good at photography.”
    Jess burst out laughing. “Yeah, on my camera phone. Not sure that counts.”
    â€œGo on, it’s only a dollar a ticket, and if you win, I bet you’d get to go on some cool fashion shoots too. You’d be great!”
    I wasn’t lying. Jess is good at photography; she has a framed photo on her wall at home that she won a competition with when she was younger. Plus she is artistic too; her mom has shown me some of her