Free Mismatch by Lensey Namioka

someone’s offering a week in his family’s beach cabin,” said Sue.
    That beach cabin had been the setting for a lot of Andy’s daydreams over the past couple of months. He didn’t know what it would go for, but he had about fifty dollars left in his savings account from working the summer before. He wondered what his parents would think if he made a bid for the beach cabin. Probably nothing good.
    “It’s weird that the items are so different. I mean, one woman’s offering some ink painting she made herself!” said Ginny. “How can that compare with tickets to a Seahawks game?”
    Andy could feel Sue stiffen next to him. “Well, different people like different things, Ginny,” he said. “Take my dad, for instance. He likes black-and-white ink paintings a lot more than tickets to some football game.” He turned to Sue and smiled at her. After a second, she smiled back.
    The auction took place in the gym. A potluck dinner was served, and the parents of the players brought the food. Andy’s mother brought a big platter of teriyaki beef and chicken.
    Again, the gym was packed by the time the Suzukis arrived. This time, the gym was crowded not only with families of the players, but also with people who were interested in bidding for some of the items. A line had formed for the food, and many people were already holding plates and eating.
    Andy looked over the platters on the long table and wondered which dish was Mrs. Hua’s. Not one of the various salads, he decided, nor a pie or a cake. He spotted a big plate of fried noodles with a brownish color that had certainly come from soy sauce.
I bet that’s Mrs.
Hua’s contribution,
he thought. He pointed the dish out to his father. “Check it out, Dad. I know how much you love fried noodles.”
    “I’d better get some before it’s all gone,” agreed his father, pushing his way to the noodle dish.
    All right,
thought Andy.
Now what if I let Dad know
that the noodles were brought by Sue’s mother? That might
break the ice.
Andy watched his dad, remembering how red his face had gotten when he’d talked about his trip to Beijing.
Yeah, right,
he thought.
Like it’s going to be that
simple.
    Either way, he didn’t get a chance to tell his dad who’d brought the noodles. The eating didn’t take long, because people practically inhaled the food. After a few minutes, a tinkling sound interrupted the chatter. Mrs. Fulton, the woman who had chaired the fund-raising program, was rapping a water pitcher with a spoon. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she shouted. “Now the fun part begins. Let’s start the auction!”
    People began to seat themselves on the benches. When it got quiet again, the items to be auctioned off were brought out and put on the refreshment table. Slips of paper describing the service items were neatly arranged in a pile.
    Mrs. Fulton picked up a slip and opened the bidding on a pair of tickets to a Seahawks game. Having your lawn mowed for a month was offered next; the winning bid was seventy-five dollars. Personally, Andy thought that the overweight man who won the bidding could have used the exercise, instead of letting someone else do the mowing.
    The beach cabin came up for bidding, and before Andy could ever open his mouth, the bidding topped what he could afford. It finally went for five hundred dollars to a man sitting two rows down. So much for his daydreams.
    Next the items on the table began to be auctioned off. Andy was surprised that an old Coke bottle was offered as an antique, and went for twenty-five dollars. After a while his attention began to wander. He had little interest in antique maps, china vases, or other junk. He glanced at Sue, thinking about his dream of the week at the beach cabin. Maybe they could go camping some weekend?
Maybe . . .
    Then something made him sit up. His father’s voice, making a bid! Andy looked up and saw that the item offered was Sue’s mother’s ink painting, which lay partially unrolled on the