Free Wild Cat by Dandi Daley Mackall Page A

me. I don’t think he’s said two words to me in the last two years. In sixth grade, if we heard snoring in class, we all looked at JP.
    “I’m doing my own project,” JP says.
    “And what might that be, Mr. Peterson?” Ms. Buffenmyer asks.
    “Football,” he answers. He slumps down even farther.
    A few chuckles ripple across the room.
    “I’m not sure you’ve quite grasped the assignment, Mr. Peterson,” Ms. Buffenmyer says.
    “Will you just call me JP? I keep thinking my dad’s walked in or something.”
    “Well, JP,” Ms. Buffenmyer says, “you need a partner. And a better idea than football.”
    “Better than football?” JP whines. “Man, junior high is as tough as my brothers said it was.”
    More laughs follow. I hate this. Everybody sees that JP and I should make a team. They also see that JP doesn’t want me for a partner.
    “I have an idea, Ms. Buffenmyer,” Fiona says. We all look to her like she’s the teacher now. “Cassie and I were going to be partners. But, well . . .” She puts her hand on my arm. “Maybe Cassie could team up with JP, and Kat and I could work together.”
    “Hey!” Cassie objects. “You and I already have our project.”
    Fiona turns to her friend. “You and JP can do that one. Sounds like JP needs a new project anyway. And a new partner. Kat and I will come up with something else.”
    “That’s okay,” I tell her, even though I’d love to be her partner. “You don’t need to switch partners because of me.”
    “It’s not a problem,” Fiona says.
    “Cassie really doesn’t want to,” I whisper.
    Fiona whispers back, “Don’t kid yourself. Cassie’s got a monster crush on JP. She’s going to thank both of us later.”
    “Cassie?” Ms. Buffenmyer says. “What do you say?”
    “Well, I guess it might work,” Cassie says. She turns around and smiles at JP. “You game, JP?”
    He shrugs. “I still think football was a cool idea.”
    Cassie’s already out of her seat and moving in on JP. “Make room, guys. I need to sit by my new partner.”
    “Good. Now get busy, people.” Ms. Buffenmyer strolls toward us. “Thanks, Ms. Morris.”
    “Glad to help,” Fiona says.
    “For this to work, though,” Ms. Buffenmyer says, “you girls will have to come up with your project by the end of class today. We don’t have time for an extension.”
    “No sweat,” Fiona says.
    I’m sweating already. I don’t want to wreck Fiona’s grade. “What were you and Cassie doing for a project?” I ask.
    “Nothing terrific,” Fiona says. “Her dad owns Nice Pizza in town.”
    “I didn’t know that.” We’ve eaten there a couple of times, but we’re too far out in the country for delivery.
    Fiona studies her fingernails. They’re amazing—long and this bronze color that goes great with her hair. “Cassie and I were going to make up a new specialty pizza with tons of cheese, all kinds of cheeses. We thought we’d promote it for a week and see if we could make a profit. Then we’d give the profit to poor kids or something. Or use the profit to feed poor people. Something like that.”
    “That’s pretty cool,” I say.
    Fiona shrugs. Her hair swishes, like in those silky shampoo commercials.
    Two guys from the second row are trying to get Fiona’s attention. When she looks at them, they’re pointing to themselves, trying to elbow each other out of the way. “Be on my team, Fiona!” one of them whispers. But his whisper is so loud that Ms. Buffenmyer walks over to them.
    Fiona shakes her head. Again, her hair flows from side to side.
    As I watch her, I can’t help wondering what it would feel like to be Fiona Morris. And if I were Fiona Morris, I wonder how much I’d regret pairing up with me.

Twelve
    “I guess we better get going on this, huh?” I suggest. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything we could sell.”
    “We don’t have to sell anything,” Fiona says. Her eyes dart around the room while she talks. “It could be a