I sit up straighter. “What are you talking about?”
She comes and sits next to me on her bed, and that’s when I notice a pretty peach shimmer on her eyelids. “Lulu made a prediction with her tarot cards. She said someone new had started showing an interest in me,” she explains. “Which is Joe! And then her second prediction was to stay away from the new kid. I’m sure that means Oliver—I can sense he’s nothing but trouble. But her last prediction? Someone is going to steal my man. And!” Her eyes widen. “She also said I’m getting my first kiss tonight, and what if all this means Rose is going to mess it up?”
No hate to Lulu, but I’m not sure I buy into her mystical predictions. I thought she did it to make a quick buck off students—which I have to respect—but for her to lead Sara on like this? Nobody can predict when you’ll get your first kiss or who might steal your man. It’s a bunch of bologna.
“Are you kidding me?”
But it’s as if she doesn’t hear me. “I have to stay away from Rose,” she declares. “No exceptions.”
“Sara, you’re ridiculous. And what are you talking about—your first kiss with Joe? How is that even going to happen? You barely know him.”
Sara crosses her arms, defensive now. “You don’t know anything, Patrick. Besides, we’re friends now.”
With my good hand, I slap a palm to my forehead, exasperated. “Oh my gosh, Sara.”
She studies me for so long, I start to feel like I’m bacteria under a microscope. “I know what this is.”
My heart drops to my toes. I look at her sidelong, wondering if she can sense my jealousy. Because that’s what this is, isn’t it? Even though I hate to admit it, I’m jealous of Joe. I mean, when have I ever had the urge to show off ingym class, of all places?
Her mouth twists into a sneaky smirk. “You don’t think I have the guts.”
Oh no. Not this.
I spring to my feet. “No way, I’m not playing this betting game anymore.”
She yanks my good arm and tugs me back down onto the bed. “Come on! I thought it was your favorite game.”
“Well, it becomes less exciting when I keep winning every time.”
She drops her hand from my arm, but there’s a fire in her eyes. “You’re not winning this one. I have a really good feeling about tonight.”
“Sara, you say thateverytime. So, no. I’m not agreeing to this.”
And then I get up again, moving before she can stop me, and head for her door.
“Whatever, who’s chicken now?” she calls after me. “I’m still getting my first kiss tonight anyway, no matter what.”
This makes me pause. I hang my head. Why did I have to bet her to kiss Subwayboy in the first place? Now she won’t let it go until she does win. So I’ve got to say something that makes her back down from this bet. Give her something she’d never in a million years agree to.
Slowly, I turn around and face her. “You really want to do this?”
She lifts her chin in determination. That’s enough of an answer.
“Fine, if you don’t get your first kiss by the end of the festival tonight,” I say, “you’ll have to quit Newspaper Club.”
I expect her to backtrack right away.Actually, Patrick, we better not bet tonight! Let fate work its magic instead!Because if she loves writing so much, why would she agree if there’s a fifty-fifty chance she’ll have to give it up? She wouldn’t. End of story.
Instead, her eyes widen in surprise. Then she’s on her feet, grabbing her purse and thick wool cardigan from her closet before spinning back around.
“Okay, deal,” she says merrily, as though I’ve offered her a bucket of chocolate candy. She’s already heading for the door. “Ah, this is so exciting! Let’s go!”
My heart just about stops. She’s serious? No—she wasn’t supposed to agree!
“Wait! I thought you love Newspaper Club?”
“Right,” she agrees. “So it’s just more motivation to not fail since Idolove it.”
I slide between her and the door, blocking her exit. “Exactly, so don’t throw it away for a stupid bet.”
