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“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。
Darla came up behind me and whispered； “Rumor is you've got a wad of cash。 Is that true？”
“What？ No！ I mean； yes； but I … I'm not bidding。”
“Oooo； girl； look at you。 You feelin' all right？”
I wasn't。 I felt sick to my stomach and shaky in the knees。 “I'm fine；” I told her。 “Fine。”
She looked from me to the stage and back to me。 “You got nothin' to lose but your self…
respect。”
“Stop it！” I whispered at her fiercely。 It felt like I was having a panic attack。 I couldn't breathe。
I felt light…headed and wobbly—like I wasn't in control
of my own body。
Darla said； “Maybe you should sit down。”
“I'm fine； Darla； I'm fine。”
She frowned at me。 “I think I'll stick around to make sure。”
The Booster Club president； Mrs。 McClure； had been fluttering around the basket boys； fixing
ties and giving them last…minute instructions； but
now suddenly she was slamming her gavel on the podium； calling into the microphone； “If
you'll all settle down； we're ready to begin。”
I'd never seen six hundred kids quiet down so fast。 I guess Mrs。 McClure hadn't either；
because she smiled and said； “Why； thank you。 Thank you
……… Page 86………
very much。” Then she said； “And wele to the fifty…second annual Basket Boy Auction！ I
know that your teachers have gone over the procedures
with you in homeroom； but I've been asked to remind you of a few things： This is a civilized
proceeding。 No whistling； catcalls； or other degrading
behavior will be tolerated。 If you wish to place a bid； you must raise your hand high。 Bidding
without raising your hand is prohibited； and should you
decide to be a funny guy； you will be caught and detained or suspended。 Are we all clear on
that？ Good。” She looked from one side of the gym to
the other。 “Teachers； I see that you are in position。”
Six hundred heads turned slowly from side to side； looking at the blockade of teachers on
either side of the gym。
“Man；” Darla whispered； “they're not leaving much room for fun； are they？”
Mrs。 McClure continued； “Minimum bid is ten dollars； and of course； the sky's the limit； but
we don't accept IOUs。” She pointed to her right。
“Winning bidders should go directly to the table at the north door when I declare the basket to
be sold。 And as you're aware； winners and their
basket boys have the rest of the school day off and are exempt from tonight's homework in
all classes。” She smiled out at the blockade。 “Teachers；
we appreciate your support on this。
“All right； then！” She put on her reading glasses and looked at a three…by…five card。 “Our first
basket has been brought by Jeffrey Bisho。” She
looked over her glasses at him and said； “e on up； Jeffrey。 Don't be shy！” He inched
forward as she continued。 “Jeffrey has brought a
scrumptious lunch consisting of chicken salad sandwiches； oriental noodles； baby grapes；
iced tea； and fortune cookies。” She smiled at him over
her glasses。 “Sounds delicious； and sounds like fun！ Which；” she said； looking back at the
crowd； “Jeffrey is！ He enjoys skateboarding； skiing； and
swimming； but ladies； he also enjoys a day in the park and watching Humphrey Bogart
movies。” She turned to him and grinned。 “They are a kick；
aren't they？”
Poor Jeff tried to smile； but you could tell—he wanted to die。
“All right； then；” said Mrs。 McClure as she whipped off her glasses。 “Do I hear ten？”
Not only did she hear ten； she heard twelve； fifteen； twenty； and twenty…five； too！ “Going …
going … gone！” cried Mrs。 McClure。 “To the young lady
in the purple tunic！”
“Who is that？” I asked Darla。
“I think her name's Tiffany；” she said。 “She's a seventh grader。”
“Really？ Wow。 I would never have bid last year！ And I …I don't remember bids going up that
high； either。”
Darla eyed me。 “Which tells me that maybe you would bid this year？ How much you got？”
I looked at her and almost dissolved right on the spot。 “Darla； I didn't bring money on purpose！
My neighbor made me take it on the way to school
because she owed it to me for eggs and—”
“For eggs？ Oh； like Bryce was talking about in the library？”
“Exactly； and—” I looked at her looking at me and stopped cold。
“How can you even think about bidding on that boy？”
“I don't want to！ But I've liked him for so long。 Darla； I've liked him since I was seven。 And
even though I know he's a coward and a sneak and I
should never speak to him again； I'm having trouble focusing on that。 Especially since Shelly
Stalls is after him。 And now I've got this money burning
a hole in my pocket！”
“Well； I can understand the bit about Shelly Stalls； but if you know that boy's just a big piece
of fluffy cheesecake that you're gonna regret eating； I
can help you with your diet。” She put out her hand。 “Give me the money。 I'll hold it for you。”
“No！”
……… Page 87………
“No？”
“I mean…I can handle this。 I've got to handle it。”
She shook her head。 “Oh； girl。 I'm hurting for y