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Why did I care what I looked like at

this stupid dinner? I was acting like a girl.

Then through a gap in my curtains I saw them coming. Out their front door, down their

walkway, across the street. It was like a weird dream. They

seemed to be floating toward our house. All five of them.

I pulled a shirt off my bed, punched my arms in, and buttoned up.

Two seconds later the doorbell rang and Mom called, “Can you get that, Bryce?”

Luckily, Granddad beat me to it. He greeted them all like they were long-lost family and even

seemed to know which one was Matt and which one

was Mike. One was wearing a purple shirt and the other was wearing a green one, so it

shouldn't have been that hard to remember which was

which, but they came in and pinched my cheeks and said, “Hey, baby brother! How's it

goin'?” and I got so mad I mixed them up again.

My mother zoomed in from the kitchen, saying, “Come in, come in. It's so nice you all could

make it.” She called, “Lyn-et-ta! Rick! We've got compa-

ny!” but then stopped short when she saw Juli and Mrs. Baker. “Well, what's this?” she asked.

“Homemade pies?”

Mrs. Baker said, “Blackberry cheesecake and pecan.”

“They look wonderful! Absolutely wonderful!” My mother was acting so hyper I couldn't

believe it. She took Juli's pie, then whooshed a path to the

kitchen with Mrs. Baker.

Lynetta appeared from around the corner, which made Matt and Mike grin and say, “Hey,

Lyn. Lookin' good.”

Black skirt, black nails, black eyes — for a nocturnal rodent, yeah, I suppose she was looking

good.

They disappeared down to Lynetta's room, and when I turned around, my granddad was

taking Mr. Baker into the front room, which left me in the

entry hall with Juli. Alone.

She wasn't looking at me. She seemed to be looking at everything but me. And I felt like an

idiot, standing there in my geeky button-down shirt

with pinched cheeks and nothing to say. And I got so nervous about having nothing to say

that my heart started going wacko on me, hammering like

it does right before a race or a game or something.

On top of that, she looked more like that stupid picture in the paper than the picture did, if

that makes any sense. Not because she was all

dressed up — she wasn't. She was wearing some normal-looking dress and normal-looking

shoes, and her hair was the way it always is except

maybe a little more brushed out. It was the way she was looking at everything but me, with

her shoulders back and her chin out and her eyes

flashing.

We probably only stood there for five seconds, but it felt like a year. Finally I said, “Hi, Juli.”

Her eyes flashed at me, and that's when it sank in— she was mad. She whispered, “I heard

you and Garrett making fun of my uncle in the library,

and I don't want to speak to you! You understand me? Not now, not ever!”

My mind was racing. Where had she been? I hadn't seen her anywhere near me in the library!

And had she heard it? Or had she heard it from

somebody else.

I tried to tell her it wasn't me, that it was Garrett, all Garrett. But she t me down and made

tracks for the front room to be with her dad.

So I'm standing there, wishing I'd punched Garrett out in the library so Juli wouldn't stick me

in the same class as someone who makes retard

jokes, when my dad shows up and claps me on the shoulder. “So. How's the party, son?”