Free Click Here (to find out how i survived seventh grade) by Denise Vega

Well, I really didn’t have a cover, but if I had one, I would have totally blown it. Was he going to say something about the poster? I wanted to run but was afraid I’d trip so I decided to stand tough. I dug around in my locker, ready to do battle if he dared make a joke about puppets.
    8:40 A.M. Target arrived at my locker with two friends. I ended all Scope Out procedures right then. I can’t scope at close range.
    “Did you see that poster?” he asked.
    I shook my head quickly. “I don’t want to hear about it.”
    “Oh, it isn’t —”
    I held up my hand.
    “Okay,” he said. “Whatever. But this Saturday, Swift. The YMCA. Be there or be a loser.” His friends looked me up and down. They probably already thought I was one.
    “What?”
    “Basketball,” he said. “Remember when the four of us played? You said you could kill me one-on-one. It’s time to prove it.”
    “Prove it?” We’d been kidding around about who was better, but I never thought he’d really want to play.
    “He’s not as good as he says,” one of the boys said.
    “Yeah,” said Mark. “I’m better.”
    I laughed. “I’ve seen you. I’ll be there. Get ready to be dominated.” The boys laughed and I felt better. No one seemed to think I was a loser.
    “Hey, there’s another one,” Mark said as we started down the hall. He was pointing at one of the walls. I swung around, ready to yank down my oversize face if I had to.
    But it wasn’t a picture of me.
    THANKSGIVING PLAY!
    Mark your calendars for the Molly Brown Middle School play
A Harvest to Remember
    Tuesday, November 26, 7:30 P.M. , in the gymnasium
    “Look, Corny,” said Mark. “You’re famous again.”
    Before I could respond, his eyes grew wide. “Here comes the principal.”
    I whirled around. Yikes. She was coming right at me.
    “Erin Swift! Just the girl I wanted to see.”
    I looked up at her. “I haven’t hit anyone else, Mrs. Porter. I promise.”
    “Oh, I know that, Erin. Heavens.” She smiled. “I just wanted to say I’m glad to see you’re getting involved in the school. I understand you’re in the Thanksgiving play” — she paused to point to the poster — “and Ms. Moreno tells me you’re in the Intranet Club, too. The best way to stay out of trouble is to get involved.”
    I kept my eyes on her, ignoring Mark, who was making marionette gestures behind her back, just inside my field of vision. “Yes, well, I thought so, too.”
    “Excellent,” Mrs. Porter said. “And how are your puppets?”
    I glanced at Mark, who rolled his eyes. “Uh, they’re fine, Mrs. Porter,” I said. “Just fine.”
    Mark busted out laughing when she was gone. “Good answer,” he said. “She’s so weird.”
    “Yeah,” I said, laughing along with him. I didn’t care how weird she was. She’d just helped Mark and me have a good laugh together.
    “Ready to rumble?” Mark and I stood facing each other on the basketball court at the YMCA Saturday afternoon. My suspicious mind wondered if this was all a way to find out about Jilly. He knew I knew her from the play. Maybe he wanted more information. But he wouldn’t do that. Would he? Nah.
    Okay, I felt better about that. But the minute I had convinced myself this wasn’t about Jilly, I started stressing about getting together with him. True, I got to be with the boy of my dreams. BUT, I’d be playing a sport with him. This meant I’d be sweating, breathing heavily, and very possibly farting around him. This last one had me VERY paranoid, so I’d made extra sure not to eat anything yesterday or today that might be even remotely related to a bean.
    So here I was, facing Mark, who was between me and the basket at the Y, praying I wouldn’t sweat, burp, fart, or do anything stupid. I looked down at my Chucks. Both were tied in triple knots. Mark’s eyes followed mine down.
    “They give me balance,” I said, before he could say anything about my feet. “I can out-balance