The Secret Talent by Jo Whittemore Read Free Book Online Page A

When he stopped and turned, they all did.
    I had a sinking feeling in my stomach.
    â€œTim, what’s up?” The guy, Mitchell, gave me a nod, ignoring Ryan. I knew Mitchell from math class, although I hadn’t 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 Ryan’s face. Clearly, he didn’t enjoy being ignored.
    â€œHave you seen the video going around this afternoon?” Ryan asked the group.
    Mitchell shook his head. “Video?”
    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.
    â€œKnow what’s even funnier?” Ryan stared at me while they continued to watch. “It’s someone at this school.”
    â€œFor real?” One of the guys took Ryan’s phone from him. “Who is this dork?”
    More enemies. Yay.
    Before he could answer, I cut in. “We haven’t figured it out yet,” I said.
    Mitchell elbowed me. “If you do, let me know.”
    He sauntered away with his buddies, and Ryan handed me the crumpled chore list.
    â€œEnjoy the rest of your afternoon. You can shovel the walk and clean my room tomorrow morning. I’ll text you my address.”
    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.
    â€œHey! Did you get my message about the party? Can you make it?”
    â€œYep,” I said. “I’m there.”
    â€œAwesome.” He gave me a thumbs-up. “I really want you to meet Alistair.”
    â€œMe?” I couldn’t help smiling. “Really?”
    â€œYeah, dude. I think he’d like you. You’re pretty cool.”
    I stood a little taller. “Thanks!”
    He chuckled to himself. “The way you shut Ryan up? Awesome.”
    â€œOh.” My hands went into my pockets, the list of chores brushing against my fingertips. “Listen . . . about Ryan. I’ve been talking to the guy, and I think he’s just misunderstood.” I leaned closer. “You know, trying too hard just to get attention. He could really use some friends.”
    Berkeley winced. “Yikes. Good luck with that plan.”
    I pressed my lips together. “Actually, I was hoping you could help me. Do you think he could maybe come to your party?”
    â€œAw, dude, I don’t know . . .”
    â€œWhat if I promised he’d be on his best behavior?” I added. “I could spruce him up andteach him some manners.”
    Berkeley sighed and rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah, okay.” He looked up at me. “But the second he gets annoying . . .”
    â€œHe won’t,” I promised, crossing my heart. “Thanks.”
    â€œStudents, to your seats!” called Mr. E.
    There was a commotion of shuffling and chairs sliding across the floor as everyone sat.
    â€œThanks again,” 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 Berkeley’s party .
    One down, four to go.

CHAPTER
4
The Life of Ryan
    H ere’s another thing about me. I want to be rich someday. Like . . . own-a-professional-sports-team rich. And not a team that’s on a losing streak, sponsored by athlete’s foot cream and prunes. I want three-time national champs sporting Under Armour and chugging Gatorade.
    But you don’t get rich doing someone else’s chores for free.
    Needless to say, I wasn’t in the best mood Saturday morning when Mom dropped me off in front of Ryan’s house.
    â€œWhat’s with the face?” she asked when she pulled to the curb.
    I shrugged. “You and Dad gave it to me.”
    Mom raised an