Free Getting Caught by Mandy Hubbard

she’d been treating me like dirt and come around. Instead, it backfired. I didn’t think she’d get so worked up as to call me a loser and freak and rip me to shreds in front of her friends at Ken Greeley’s house. On top of all that, the next day, I found a cover of National Geographic taped to my locker, with my picture pasted on the front, half under water, just like the pool at Greeley’s house. The caption said, “The freak! She lives!”
    Things went downhill pretty quickly from there. I refused to let Peyton have the last word, and I pranked her right back.
    I look up at the scoreboard again. I still can’t figure out why she did something so petty and simple. Our rules quite clearly require that we outdo one another. Technically, I could tell her that her little prank doesn’t even count. No way is it better than my Harvard interview. But to do that, I have to actually bring up the Harvard thing to her face. And I’m not sure I want to do that.
    So I’ll let this one slide. Besides, being the prankster is much better than the pranked, so why give her the opportunity to do two in a row?
    “Hey, Stinky,” a deep voice calls, snapping me into reality. Dave is climbing the bleachers, two at a time, coming toward me.
    I dig deep into my brain, trying to think of something halfway witty to say. “It’s Miss Stinky to you.”
    He grins and plops down next to me, making himself comfortable. “Sorry. Miss Stinky.”
    “Better. So what’s up, Switzerland?” I’m trying to be cool, but I’m sure it has to be obvious I’m overheating. Dave is sitting next to me, like, an inch away. And meanwhile, I have an audience. Peyton and the rest of the Pep Squad are staring at me, mouths partially opened, as if they’re watching an episode of General Hospital. It makes me want to squirm, but I force myself to sit still.
    “ Mr. Switzerland,” he corrects, leaning over, elbows on his knees, just as relaxed as ever. “Thought we could be partners again.”
    I can’t close my mouth. Is he serious? “Why?” escapes before I can think.
    He shrugs. “Just… I don’t know. You want to?”
    “Um…” I clamp my mouth shut. I really hadn’t expected another interaction with him until I was toothless and so brain-dead from the Alzheimer’s that I didn’t know my own name. “Depends. What’s today’s lesson?”
    He gives me a guilty look. “Not sure.”
    “Liar.”
    He laughs and runs his hands through his sandy blond hair. “Okay, okay. It’s wrestling. But I’ll keep my hands to myself.”
    I roll my eyes. “That’s not possible in wrestling. And you’re, like, three of me.”
    “Come on. None of my buddies are in this class, so we’ll probably end up together anyway. Like last time. I’m just trying to break the ice.”
    “So you won’t feel bad when you break my neck later on?”
    He grins. “Something like that.”
    “Okay, it’s a deal. But don’t be surprised when I kick your ass,” I say, feeling a little less nervous. But then the butterflies come swarming back when I realize I’m going to be spending the next few minutes rolling around on a mat with Dave Ashworth.
    Oh, God.
    My head starts to pound along with my heartbeat, and I look over and see Peyton glaring at me. Still. I’d been crushing on Dave years ago when Peyton and I were friends, and back then, she always encouraged me to talk to him. He’ll like you, honest he will! What’s not to like? she’d said. But I never could bring myself to string two words together in his presence; I knew all I would do is stammer like an idiot. And now Peyton’s looking at me with an expression of pure disgust. As in, Score, Jess—after ten years, you finally got him to talk to you. At this rate, you’ll probably have your first kiss when there’s a colony on Mars.
    Miss De Frisco demonstrates the first move and has us all pair up, and when I stand next to Dave I feel like a midget. He has to kneel down. I crouch behind him and try to