Maybe my grandfather's happy about all this； but I'm miserable。 I can't eat； I can't watch TV； I
can't seem to do anything。
So I went to bed early； but I can't sleep。 I've watched her house from my window for hours
now。 I've stared at the sky； I've counted sheep。 But man；
I can't stop kicking myself for what an idiot I've been all these years。
And now how am I going to make her listen to me？ I'd scale that monster sycamore if I could。
Right to the top。 And I'd yell her name across the
rooftops for the whole world to hear。
And since you know what a tree…climbing weenie I am； I think it's pretty clear that I'm willing
to do anything to get her to talk to me。 Man； I'll dive
after her into a chicken coop full of poop if that's what it takes。 I'll ride my bike all the stinkin'
way to school for the rest of eternity if it means being
with her。
Something。 I've got to e up with some thing to show her that I've changed。 To prove to
her that I understand。
But what？ How do I show her that I'm not the guy she thinks I am？ How do I erase everything
I've done and start over？
Maybe I can't。 Maybe it just can not be done。 But if I've learned one thing from Juli Baker； it's
that I've got to put my whole heart and soul into it and
try。
Whatever happens； I know that my grandfather's right about one thing。
I'll never be the same again。
The Basket Boys
The Monday after the Loskis' dinner party； Darla tracked me down at school and forced
Bryce Loski back into my brain。 “Jules！ Whoa； girl； wait up！
How have you been？”
“I'm fine； Darla； how are you？”
……… Page 82………
“No； seriously；” she whispered。 “Are you doing okay？” She shifted her backpack and looked
over each shoulder。 “I got to thinking； you know； that
was just so cold of Bryce。 Especially since you've got that soft spot for him。”
“Who told you that？”
“Like I haven't got eyes？ e on； girl。 It's a given。 Which is why I got to worryin' about you。
Are you seriously all right？”
“Yes； I am。 But thanks for thinking about me。” I eyed her and said； “And Darla？ It's not a
given anymore。”
She laughed。 “How long's this diet gonna last？”
“It's not a diet。 I've just； uh； lost my taste for him。”
She looked at me skeptically。 “Uh…huh。”
“Well； I have。 But thanks for； you know； caring。”
All through first period I was still feeling strong and right and certain； but then Mrs。 Simmons
ended the lesson a full fifteen minutes early and said；
“Clear your desks of everything but a pen or pencil。”
“What？” everyone cried； and believe me—I was right along with them。 I was not prepared for
a quiz！
“Everything！” she said。 “e on； you're wasting valuable time。”
The room filled with grumbles and the sound of shuffling binders； and when we'd all pretty
much plied with her request； she picked a stack of
bright yellow papers off her desk； fanned them with an evil grin； and said； “It's time to vote for
basket boys！”
A wave of relief swept across the room。 “Basket boys？ You mean it's not a quiz？”
She ticked through the stack； counting ballots as she spoke。 “It is like a quiz in that I don't
want you conferring with one another。 It's also like a quiz
in that you have a limited amount of time。” She slapped a set of ballots down on the first desk
of row one； then went on to the second row。 “I will
collect them from you individually when the bell rings； and I will inspect to see that you have
plied with the following instructions。” She scooted
over to row three。 “Choose five； and only five； of the boys on the list。 Do not put your name
on it； and do not discuss your choices with your
neighbors。” She was on to row four now； talking faster and faster。 “When you've made your
selections； simply turn your sheet over。” She slapped the
remainder down on the last desk。 “Do not； I repeat； do not fold your ballot！”
Robbie Castinon raised his hand and blurted out； “Why do guys have to vote。 It's lame to
have guys vote。”
“Robbie …；” Mrs。 Simmons warned。
“Seriously！ What are we supposed to do？ Vote for our friends or our enemies？”
A lot of people snickered； and Mrs。 Simmons scowled； but he had a point。 Twenty of the
school's eighth…grade boys would be made to pack a
picnic lunch for two and be auctioned off to the highest bidder。
“Being a basket boy is an honor—” Mrs。 Simmons began； but she was interrupted by Robbie。
“It's a joke！” he said。 “It's embarrassing！ Who wants to be a basket boy？”
All the guys around him muttered； “Not me；” but Mrs。 Simmons cleared her throat and said；
“You should want to be one！ It's a tradition that has
helped support the school since it was founded。 There have been generation after generation
of basket boys helping make this campus what it is
today。 It's why we have flower beds。 It's why we have shade trees and a grove of apple trees。
Visit another junior high sometime and you'll begin to
realize what a little oasis our campus really is。”
“All this from the sweat and blood of basket boys；” Robbie grumbled。
Mrs。 Simmons sighed。 “Robbie； someday when your children go to school here； you'll
understand。 For now； please just vote for whoever you think
will earn a high bid。 And class；” she added； “we're down to nine minutes。”
……… Page 83………
The room fell quiet。 And as I read down the list of over one hundred and fifty eighth…grade
boys； I realized that to me； there had only ever been one
boy。 To me； there had only been Bryce。
I didn't let myself get sentimental。 I had liked him for all the wrong reasons； and I certainly
wasn't going to vote for him now。 But I didn't know who
else to vote for。 I looked at Mrs。 Simmons； who was eagle…eyeing the class between glances
at the clock。 What if I didn't choose anybody？ What if I
just turned it in blank？
She'd give me detention； that's what。 So with two minutes left to go； I put dots next to the
boys I knew who weren't jerks or clowns； but were just
nice。 When I was through； there were all of ten names with dots； and of those I circled five：
Ryan Noll； Vince Olson； Adrian Iglesias； Ian Lai； and Jon
Trulock。 They wouldn't make basket boy； but then I wouldn't be bidding； so it didn't really
matter。 At the bell I handed over my ballot and forgot all
about the auction。
Until lunchtime the next day； that is。 Darla cut me off on my way to the library and dragged
me over to her table instead。 “Have you seen the list？”
she asked。
“What list？”
“The list of basket boys！” She shoved a scrawled copy of twenty names in front of me and
looked around。 “Your main dish is on it！”
Five from the top； there it was—Bryce Loski。
I should have expected it； but still； this awful surge of possessiveness shot through me。 Who
had voted for him？ Out of one hundred fifty names he
must have gotten a lot of votes！ Suddenly I was picturing a swarm of girls waving stacks of
cash in the Booster ladies' faces as they begged to have
lunch with him。
I threw the list back at Darla and said； “He's not my main dish！ As a matter of fact； I didn't
even vote for him。”
“Oooo； girl！ You are stickin' to your diet！”
“It's not a diet； Darla。 I'm … I'm over him； okay？”
“I'm glad to hear it； 'cause rumor is； that bimbette Shelly is already stakin' her claim on him。”
“Shelly？ Shelly Stalls？” I could feel my cheeks flush。
“That's right。” Darla waved her list in the air； calling； “Liz！ Macy！ Over here！ I've got the list！”
Darla's friends fell all over themselves getting to her； then pored over the paper like it was a
treasure map。 Macy cried； “Chad Ormonde's on it！
He is so cute。 I'd go ten bucks on him； easy！”
“And Denny's on it； too！” Liz squealed。 “That boy is”— she shivered and giggled—“fi…yi…yine！”
Macy's top lip curled a little and she said； “Jon Trulock？ Jon Tru lock？ How did he get on this
list？”
For a moment I couldn't believe my ears。 I snatched the paper out of Macy's hand。 “Are you
sure？”
“Right there；” she said； pointing to his name。 “Who do you suppose voted for him？”
“The quiet girls； I guess；” Darla said。 “Me； I'm more interested in Mike Abenido。 Have I got
any petition？”
Macy laughed； “If you're in； I'm out！”
“Me too；” said Liz。
“How about you； Jules？” Darla asked me。 “Bringin' spare change on Friday？”
“No！”
“You get to miss the second half of school…。”
“No！ I'm not bidding。 Not on anyone！”
She laughed。 “Good for you。”
That afternoon I rode home from school brooding about Bryce and the whole basket boy
auction。 I could feel myself backsliding about Bryce。 But
why should I care if Shelly liked him？ I shouldn't even be thinking about him！
……… Page 84………
When I wasn't thinking about Bryce； I was worrying about poor Jon Trulock。 He was quiet；
and I felt sorry for him； having to clutch a basket and be
auctioned off in front of the whole student body。 What had I done to him？
But as I bounced up our drive； basket boys bounced right out of my mind。 Was that green I
saw poking out of the dirt？ Yes！ Yes； it was！ I dropped
the bike and got down on my hands and knees。 They were so thin； so small； so far apart！
They barely made a difference in the vastness of the black
dirt； and yet there they were。 Pushing their way through to the afternoon sun。
I ran in the house； calling； “Mom！ Mom； there's grass！”
“Really？” She emerged from the bathroom with her cleaning gloves and a pail。 “I was
wondering if it was ever going to spring up。”
“Well； it has！ e！ e and see！”
She wasn't too impressed at first。 But after I made her get down on her hands and knees and
really look； she smiled and said； “They're so
delicate…。”
“They look like they're yawning； don't they？”
She cocked her head a bit and looked a little closer。 “Yawning？”
“Well； more stretching； I guess。 Like they're sitting up in their little bed of dirt with their arms
stretched way high； saying； Good morning； world！”
She laughed and said； “Yes； they do！”
I got up and uncoiled the hose。 “I think they need a wakeup shower； don't you？”
My mom agreed and left me to my singing and sprinkling。 And I was pletely lost in the joy
of my little green blades of new life when I heard the
school bus rumble to a stop up on Collier Street。
Bryce。 His name shot through my brain； and with it came a panic I didn't seem able to control。
Before I could stop myself； I dropped the hose and
dashed inside。
I locked myself in my room and tried to do my homework。 Where was my peace？ Where was
my resolve？ Where was my sanity？ Had they left
me because Shelly Stalls was after him？ Was it just some old rivalry making me feel this way？
I had to get p