Set the Record Straight! Page 9

  Back in the hall I turned a corner to reach my locker, and ahead I spied a familiar figure, lounging by the water fountain. My heart skipped a beat.

  “What’s up, Paste?” called Michael. He looked supercute in his work-out clothes from football practice. His hair was tousled and his cheeks were pink, and I could see his arm muscles under his T-shirt sleeves.

  “Hey, Mikey,” I said, very cool, but inside I was bursting with joy that this hottie was waiting for me.

  “Ready for our plan?”

  “Yup. Looking forward to it!” Do not talk about buns, do not talk about buns, I warned myself.

  “Great, ’cause I’m tired of waiting!”

  Wait, what? I looked up at him quickly, and he was smiling at me.

  “Are you?” I asked, my stomach clenching as everything came back to me.

  “Nah, I could never get tired of waiting for you,” he said with a wink.

  Then I fainted, and he had to revive me.

  Just kidding.

  I giggled and hoisted my messenger bag onto my shoulder and wondered for about the hundredth time if he knew I was Dear Know-It-All. Well, if he does know . . . maybe that would be okay. As long as he doesn’t blow my cover, and as long as he keeps looking this good and feeding me, I think we’ll be all right.

  “Let’s hit it,” he said.

  “Righty-ho!” I said, imitating Trigger. And we both laughed.

  All’s Well That Ends Well for Rookie Journo.

  MARTONE A BORN WALLFLOWER!

  Hailey came over after soccer practice so I could help her with her homework. We followed our usual routine: I offered Hailey a snack. She declined. I made myself a snack. Hailey ate it. Then we got down to business. Talking about boys, that is.

  “I get to write another article with superhunk!” I cried.

  Hailey was munching on a cracker with melted cheddar cheese. “What else is new?” she said, spraying crumbs all over her plate. “Oops!” She laughed, spraying some more.

  I rolled my eyes. “Why ‘what else is new’?” I asked.

  “You guys are totally a team at this point. It’s like . . . a given that you write everything together. You’re like . . . peanut butter and jelly. Like . . . cheddar cheese and crackers!” Hailey laughed again and crammed the last cracker in her mouth.

  “You think?” I couldn’t suppress my smile.

  Hailey nodded, her mouth too full to speak.

  “Really?” I could talk about this forever. I wondered if other people thought we went together like that.

  Finally Hailey swallowed. “Really,” she said, nodding her head hard.

  I grinned again. “Wow.”

  “Are you going to ask him to dance?” said Hailey.

  What?

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “At the school dance next Friday! Duh!”

  “Wait, that’s next Friday?!” I started to panic. “How can it be? Already?” I jumped up and ran to the calendar by the kitchen desk. There it was. November 18. School Dance/Sam, it said in green ink.

  My stomach got all clenchy, and I had to sit down.

  “Aren’t you psyched?” asked Hailey. “I am!”

  “No. Definitely not psyched. More like terrified! What if no one asks me to dance?”

  I put my head down on my arms and shook it from side to side. I imagined another headline: Martone a Born Wallflower. “You’ll be busy dancing with Scott Parker, and I’ll be all by myself.”

  “Scott who?” asked Hailey, perplexed.

  I looked up. “Scott Parker? Hello? Crush of your life? Obsession of the year?”

  Hailey laughed. “Oh, Scott! Scott Parker!” She waved her hand dismissively. “I’m totally over him. He’s too shy. Anyway, he had that weird stalker, and I’m just going to stay away from him and that whole scenario with a ten-foot pole!”

  I had to laugh. “Okay, so who are you going to dance with?”

  “You!” Hailey jumped up and turned on the iPod on the counter. Hailey began doing a really funny dance, all rubbery arms with her head pumping up and down. I couldn’t help laughing.

  Hailey stopped. “Why are you laughing? Do I look funny dancing?”

  “Wait, um . . . I thought you were just fooling around.”

  “No, that’s my real dance,” she said. “Is it bad? Do I look like a total geek?”

  “Oh! Oh no. Totally not. No. It’s fine. It’s . . . well, Hailey, actually . . . we have some work to do.” I went over to the iPod. When I found a song I liked, I turned it way up loud and began to dance.

  “C’mon, just copy me,” I instructed.

  Hailey watched me out of the corner of her eye and began trying to imitate my moves. We shook our hips from side to side and gave a little wiggle to the right, a wiggle to the left, and I pumped my bent arms at my side.

  Hailey and I looked at each other, and I knew we were thinking the same thing. We need dance lessons! And fast!

  RACHEL WISE loves to give advice. When she’s not editing or writing children’s books, which she does full time at a publisher in New York, she’s reading advice columns in newspapers, magazines, and blogs, and is always sure her advice would be better! Her dream is to someday have her own talk show, where she could share her wisdom with millions of people at once; but for now she’s happy to dole out advice in small portions in Dear Know-It-All books.

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  Jacket design by Laura L. DiSiena

  Jacket illustrated by James Bernardin

  Jacket illustrations copyright © 2012

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