“Who’s driving the boat?”Over the motor, I heard girls screaming at us the instant before we crashed.”

“Even though Sean still held my head down I was the only one who thought to ask"Who's driving the boat?" Over the motor I heard girls screaming at us the instant before we crashed.”

“I wanted to remind you that you do not allow me to deliver boats, as I have been known to crash them.”

“Yes,I'm seeing someone," Nick said. Standing beside them but hardly acknowledging them.He was watching for my answer on his phone."For how long?" a woman asked."Four years," I heard him say."Aww!" I squealed. Then I turned to Chloe. "Do I want to be in People?""No," she said firmly. "Nick is ot."Gavin frowned and poked her in the side. "Hey."She ducked away from his finger. "Facts are facts. Nick is hot,and when girls read People and see he's dating you,they will call you a skank ho. You and I have mooned over Prince William. We know the deal.”

“But you know what? They all grinned at me in welcome,and Josh even scooted over to make room for me on the bench. At least I knew who my true friends were. Feeling grateful and loved,I sat downTHPPPPTHPPPPTHPPPPT! I farted. Or so it seemed. The boys died laughing.I pulled the whoopee cushion out from under me and flung it on the table,which only sent them into another paroxysm."Nick-Kriger-is-behind-you," Josh gasped between giggles. "He totally heard it over Galaga.Do you still want us to look without looking like we're looking?" This sent them into yet another laughing fit."But don't worry," one of his friends said. "We'll act like we think you're hot."They all snorted and dabbed at their eyes faux-girlishly with paper napkins from the holder. Then,as if on cue, they started their rythmic heavy breathing,and I knew one of Josh's raps was coming. The people in the booths around us turned to look, if they weren't already staring at us outright because of the whoopee cushion.”

“Maybe my ploy had worked. I wore a respectable shirt that buttoned down the front, only - whoops! – I must have forgotten to fasten the button over my cleavage. No respectable girl would wear her shirt open that low. (Cough.)”

“And I don't know who you're calling little."I knew one way to solve this argument. I carefully tore the whole article out of the front page, then rolled up the newspaper and slid the rubber band back on. "Doofus," I whispered. Poor Doofus, behind us in the mud room, stood up in a rush of jingling dog tags and slobber. I slipped the paper into his mouth and whispered, "Take this to Dad."Doofus wagged his tail and trotted into the kitchen. We heard Dad say, "Did you bring me the paper? Good dog. Wait a minute. Bad dog!”