Pack of Dorks

Copyright © 2014 by Beth Vrabel

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without the express written consent of the publisher, except in the case of brief excerpts in critical reviews or articles. All inquiries should be addressed to Sky Pony Press, 307 West 36th Street, 11th Floor, New York, NY 10018.

Sky Pony Press books may be purchased in bulk at special discounts for sales promotion, corporate gifts, fund-raising, or educational purposes. Special editions can also be created to specifications. For details, contact the Special Sales Department, Sky Pony Press, 307 West 36th Street, 11th Floor, New York, NY 10018 or
[email protected]
.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

Sky Pony® is a registered trademark of Skyhorse Publishing, Inc.®, a Delaware corporation.

Visit our website at
www.skyponypress.com
.

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available on file.

Cover design by Brian Peterson
Cover image credit Shutterstock

Print ISBN: 978-1-62914-623-2
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-63220-222-2

Printed in the United States of America

To Jon, Emma, and Benny

Chapter One

This was the biggest recess of my life.

Today, I would become—officially—the bravest, most daring, and by far the most mature fourth-grader at Autumn Grove Intermediate School.

Today, as soon as that bell rang, I was on my way to becoming a legend.

Today, I was going to kiss Tom Lemming.

Here’s the plan: The whole class will run outside. Tom will head straight to the ball shed with Henry. Becky and I will check and double check that Ms. Drake and Mr. Peverell aren’t paying attention. Then we’ll sneak behind the shed, too.

And then . . . the kiss! Me and Tom. Becky and Henry.

Five minutes. I stared at the back of Tom’s red ears from my seat in the middle of the room. When he’s excited or nervous, his whole face turns red. It’s really cute. (Actually, honestly, it’s sort of weird-looking.) Beside me, Becky bounced in her seat, her red curls springing along with her. She thrust her hand toward me, and I automatically reached out to grab the note. But it was Chapstick instead, cherry flavored. My best friend is brilliant!

Becky narrowed her eyes at me until I smeared on some Chapstick and handed the tube back to her. Then she went back to bouncing.

Ms. Drake crossed her arms at the front of the room, glaring at each student in turn, her skinny neck stretched forward like a turtle. “What’s going on?” she snapped. “You’re all squirming more than the students I taught during the Great Lice Infestation of 1994.”

Ms. Drake talks about the year when more than half her students got lice a lot. Like every couple of days, she reminds us not to borrow hats and to never bring a hairbrush to school.

Someone giggled, probably April Chester who giggles all the time. Well, anytime she’s not digging in her nose for a booger, that is. She eats them. It’s disgusting.

“Something is definitely up.” Ms. Drake stood behind her desk.

“How long until recess, Ms. Drake?” Sheldon asked.

“So, recess, huh?” Ms. Drake’s eyes narrowed, and she stared us down again. Now she looked more like an eagle than a turtle. “You’re all unusually excited for recess.”

Silence. The whole class knew about The Kiss. If anyone told, I would die. I mean it. Right there on my seat, I’d turn into liquid Lucy and be a puddle of embarrassment on the floor. I’d die having never been kissed.

The bell rang!

“I’ll see you all outside!” Ms. Drake called. It sounded like a warning.

As soon as my penny loafers touched the asphalt, I scanned the crowd for Tom. I caught a glimpse of him and Henry as they ducked behind the ball shed. Step one: Complete.

And now for Becky and me. I clung to her hand, which meant I was bouncing along with her, though my brown hair flopped instead of bounced. Becky’s lips were goopy with too much cherry Chapstick. I hastily licked my lips clean, then swiped my jacket sleeve across my mouth. Who wants to kiss goopy lips?

“We should’ve gone there first,” Becky whined. “Ms. Drake is on to us. We’re doomed.”

“We’re not doomed.” I rolled my eyes. “We’re fine. We just need . . . a distraction.” I chewed on my lip for a second, until I realized bloody lips were even worse for kissing than slobbery ones. “Distraction, distraction, distraction,” I muttered.

April stood a few feet away, holding a jump rope limply in her hands. Her mouth hung open a little and she sniffed back something horrible in her nose. I fought off a shudder. “Um, hi!” I called to her.

She glanced behind her and back to me. Becky rolled her eyes. April closed her mouth, but didn’t answer. We sort of stared at each other a minute, then she said, “Are you going to kiss Tom Lemming today?”

“Yeah,” I said. My heart hammered. “But, um, I really need help. You know, from someone trustworthy and smart. Thought of you right away.” Sometimes I am such a good liar it scares me.

April’s face lit up. “Really? Like how? How do you need help with the kissing?”

“Ew,” I said automatically. Becky giggled again. “I don’t need help with the kissing! I need help getting to the kissing without Ms. Drake spotting us. Can you, I don’t know, distract her for me?”

April cocked her head to the side and stared at me down her long shiny nose. “Okay.” Then she opened her mouth as wide as it could go and screamed. She sounded like a dying cat.

“That’ll work!” I yelled, and her mouth stretched into a weird screaming smile.

Becky and I raced down the hill toward the ball shed. A group of fourth graders already was gathered around the sides of the shed. Some people were running up the hill because of the screaming, but anyone who was anyone in fourth grade didn’t budge. Tom was waiting for me back there. To kiss me.

I noticed that none of the other couples in class stood together around the ball shed. They were too busy carefully ignoring each other, I guess. I rolled my eyes just thinking about it. I could never be part of such an immature relationship. And then I got a flash of Becky’s goopy lips. Was I ready for such a mature relationship, though?

Suddenly my stomach hurt, like the time I ate bad pasta salad at the family reunion. “Becky, I don’t know if I want to do this.” I stopped, dragging Becky to a halt, too, even though we were still a couple feet from the back of the shed.

Becky fluffed her hair. It fell in long thick curls and she was always separating them. Otherwise she ended up with four huge corkscrews instead of lots of little ones. She smeared on more cherry Chapstick. Her lips looked gloppy and huge. How had I never noticed her enormous mouth before? Did Tom have a huge mouth, too? I stood on tiptoes and tried peeking over Becky’s shoulder. I couldn’t see Tom’s lips, just that his face was red as a stop sign. Would his fat lips smoother my entire mouth? Becky rolled her eyes, almost like she could hear me thinking.

“I don’t think we should do this,” I whispered again.

“You are
so
doing this,” she snapped. For all the bouncing and giggling, Becky could be pretty fierce. She turned the full force of her angry eyes on me. “Remember when you decided penny loafers were cool, so I bought a pair, too?”

“Yeah,” I said slowly. After Becky and I wore our new shoes to school at the beginning of the year, every girl in our class now sported a pair.

“Well, I never thought they were cool. But I still wear them. Every day.” She leaned in close. “You are going to do this
for me
.”

“I don’t want to anymore,” I whispered. “Let’s just call it off.”

Becky crossed her arms and rolled her eyes all at once, like she was talking to the stupidest person alive. Maybe she was. “If you want to be popular—and
my
best friend—you sometimes have to do things you don’t want to do.”

“Why should I?” I blurted.

She glared at me, her cheeks flushing. “It’s what separates
us
from
them
.” Becky jerked her thumb to the clusters of kids waiting to see The Kiss.

Becky marched ahead, the crowd parting like she was some kind of queen. I followed behind her. It was the first time I followed her. April still was screaming.

Becky strutted over to Henry, who had pushed back his ball cap in preparation for The Kiss. She turned around, waiting for me to strut up to Tom, who stood with his back against the shed. The whole crowd hushed, like they do when the teacher flips the lights.

Becky glared at me now, since I still hadn’t walked toward Tom. Her mouth crumpled into a line and then she, weirdly, giggled even though her eyes were fierce. The sound rattled around in my head, but I was relieved to hear something other than my own heartbeat going crazy. I took a step toward Tom, and everyone around us almost hummed. He dropped his arms.

In the background, April’s screeching suddenly stopped. It was now or never.

I leaned in to Tom. Just as I was about to touch his lips with mine, I got this super weird image. It was of a raw chicken breast, all peachy and wet, just before Mom dipped it in bread crumbs. My stomach rolled, and I felt a burp, smelly and gross, bubble. Quick as a clap, I pressed my lips against his, careful not to breathe. When I backed up, Tom was smiling, but not at me. He was smiling at everyone else, his fists raised like he had just made a soccer goal.