Free Double Dog Dare by Lisa Graff

head of agray-bearded old man in a fishing cap. “Um, hey,” Kansas said. He snatched up his ball.
    “You must be Ginny’s brother,” the man said. “I’m Ernie Muñoz. I believe you know my wife, Ramona.”
    “Oh.” Kansas nodded. He’d heard Ginny talking about Mr. Muñoz, from when she went over there, but Kansas hadn’t met him before. He’d just heard the sound of buzzing and hammering from the other side of the fence. Ginny said the guy was some kind of carpenter. “Yeah. Hey.” Kansas was just turning around to go back in the house when he realized maybe he was being rude. And maybe he shouldn’t be. He turned around. “I’m Kansas,” he said.
    “Nice to meet you, Kansas.”
    “You too.”
    “I see you have a basketball there.”
    This was the problem with old people, Kansas thought. They always wanted to talk to you forever, and they always said really lame stuff like, “I see you have a basketball there.” What else would it be? A turnip?
    “Uh, yeah.”
    Mr. Muñoz scratched his beard. “I saw you tossing it against the house earlier. Made quite a racket.”
    “Oh.” So that’s what this was about. Kansas had probably screwed up the old guy’s nap or something. “Sorry. I have a hoop from our old house but there’s nowhere to put it up.” He motioned to the dirt around him.
    Mr. Muñoz nodded thoughtfully and scratched at his beard again. Kansas was beginning to wonder if maybe his beard itched a lot, that maybe he had beard dandruff or something, and then he started wondering if he should make Francine wear a fake beard all day. But that wasn’t mean enough.
    “You know,” Mr. Muñoz told him, after a bit more scratching, “there’s plenty of room above our garage for a hoop, if you’d care to put it there.”
    Kansas looked over to the Muñozes’ driveway. There
was
room for a hoop there, prime real estate. But putting your basketball hoop up on someone else’s house was just … weird. Wasn’t it? “I’d have to ask the missus, of course,” Mr. Muñoz went on. “But I’m sure she’d be all right with it. She’s taken quite a shine to you and your sister, I think.”
    “Oh. Well”—Kansas shrugged—“I don’t know.” What he meant was
no,
but you really couldn’t say that so bluntlyto an old dude with an itchy beard, now, could you? “I’ll have to think about it.” Maybe he could dare Francine to get dandruff? No, that didn’t make any sense …
    “Of course. You let me know.”
    “Sure thing.” Kansas pressed the ball into his side. “Well, um … I’m gonna go.”
    “Okay, Kansas, I’ll see you soon.”
    Kansas was just creaking open the front door when he saw it. A patch of grass, peeking out between the cracks of their front step. It looked so strange there, so odd—that patch of green where it didn’t quite belong—that Kansas knew he’d come up with the perfect dare at last.
    Kansas raced back into the kitchen and dug his mother’s folder of school stuff out of the junk drawer. He flipped open the cover, then found the right page and scrolled his finger down until he landed on it.
    Halata, Francine.
    His fingers felt like they were on fire as he punched her parent contact number into the phone. This was going tobe perfect, he thought.
Perfect
. The club hadn’t voted on it yet, but they’d vote tomorrow morning, and it was such a good dare that Kansas was sure everyone would agree to it. Never in a million years would she do it, and then she’d be two points behind and lose the war and her precious news anchor job too. Which was exactly what she deserved.
    Francine’s father answered, and Kansas put on his best calm, normal voice. But when Francine picked up, he screwed his face into a sneer, prepared to really wallop her.
    “Hello?” she said.
    “I double dog dare you,” he replied, with as much growl in his voice as he could muster up, “to dye your hair green for school tomorrow.” And with that, he slammed the phone