When he stopped and turned, they all did.
I had a sinking feeling in my stomach.
âTim, whatâs up?â The guy, Mitchell, gave me a nod, ignoring Ryan. I knew Mitchell from math class, although I hadnât expected him toknow who I was. While I got a tiny flicker of joy from that fact, it was quickly snuffed out by the look on Ryanâs face. Clearly, he didnât enjoy being ignored.
âHave you seen the video going around this afternoon?â Ryan asked the group.
Mitchell shook his head. âVideo?â
Ryan pulled out his phone, video already loaded, and pressed play.
The guys all gathered to see and hear it better, and after a few seconds my performance was met with laughter once again. Heat surged into my face and ears.
âKnow whatâs even funnier?â Ryan stared at me while they continued to watch. âItâs someone at this school.â
âFor real?â One of the guys took Ryanâs phone from him. âWho is this dork?â
More enemies. Yay.
Before he could answer, I cut in. âWe havenât figured it out yet,â I said.
Mitchell elbowed me. âIf you do, let me know.â
He sauntered away with his buddies, and Ryan handed me the crumpled chore list.
âEnjoy the rest of your afternoon. You can shovel the walk and clean my room tomorrow morning. Iâll text you my address.â
Without a word, I took the list.
At least it was short.
The warning bell rang, and both Ryan and I walked into our history classroom. Berkeley looked up and waved me over.
âHey! Did you get my message about the party? Can you make it?â
âYep,â I said. âIâm there.â
âAwesome.â He gave me a thumbs-up. âI really want you to meet Alistair.â
âMe?â I couldnât help smiling. âReally?â
âYeah, dude. I think heâd like you. Youâre pretty cool.â
I stood a little taller. âThanks!â
He chuckled to himself. âThe way you shut Ryan up? Awesome.â
âOh.â My hands went into my pockets, the list of chores brushing against my fingertips. âListen . . . about Ryan. Iâve been talking to the guy, and I think heâs just misunderstood.â I leaned closer. âYou know, trying too hard just to get attention. He could really use some friends.â
Berkeley winced. âYikes. Good luck with that plan.â
I pressed my lips together. âActually, I was hoping you could help me. Do you think he could maybe come to your party?â
âAw, dude, I donât know . . .â
âWhat if I promised heâd be on his best behavior?â I added. âI could spruce him up andteach him some manners.â
Berkeley sighed and rubbed the back of his head. âYeah, okay.â He looked up at me. âBut the second he gets annoying . . .â
âHe wonât,â I promised, crossing my heart. âThanks.â
âStudents, to your seats!â called Mr. E.
There was a commotion of shuffling and chairs sliding across the floor as everyone sat.
âThanks again,â I whispered to Berkeley, heading to my own desk. While Mr. E started the lesson, I pulled out the chore list and scratched off Get me into Berkeleyâs party .
One down, four to go.
CHAPTER
4
The Life of Ryan
H ereâs another thing about me. I want to be rich someday. Like . . . own-a-professional-sports-team rich. And not a team thatâs on a losing streak, sponsored by athleteâs foot cream and prunes. I want three-time national champs sporting Under Armour and chugging Gatorade.
But you donât get rich doing someone elseâs chores for free.
Needless to say, I wasnât in the best mood Saturday morning when Mom dropped me off in front of Ryanâs house.
âWhatâs with the face?â she asked when she pulled to the curb.
I shrugged. âYou and Dad gave it to me.â
Mom raised an