After the dinner Juli was nice to me at school. Which I hated. Mad was better than nice.

Gaga was better than… nice. It was like I was a stranger to her, and man, it bugged me. Bugged me big-time.

The auction is this bogus way the Booster Club raises money for the school. They insist it's an honor to be chosen, but bull-stinkin'-loney to that!

Then the auction happened, and I found myself with even bigger problems.

Bottom line is, twenty guys get shanghaied. They have to come up with fancy picnic lunches and then be humiliated in front of the whole school while girls bid to have lunch with them.

Guess who made this year's top twenty.

You'd think mothers would say, Hey, there's no way you're going to auction my son off to the highest bidder, but no. Instead, they're all flattered that their son's been elected a basket boy.

Yes, my friend, that's what they call you. Over the P. A. you hear stuff like, "There will be an organizational meeting of the newly elected basket boys in the MPR at lunch today. All basket boys must attend."

And then Garrett bends my ear with the news that Shelly Stalls is breaking up with Mitch Michaelson, and that she, Miranda Humes, and Jenny Atkinson are starting some bidding war over me. "Dude!" he tells me. "The two hottest chicks on campus. And I swear to god, man, Shelly's dumped Mitch because of you. I heard it direct from Shagreer, and dude, Shagreer the Ear knows all." He throws me this nasty grin and says, "Me, I'm rooting for Jumbo Jenny. It would serve you right for being such a basket boy."

My mom, of course, was into it, coming up with all sorts of stuff to put in my basket so I'd get the highest bid. I tried to explain that I didn't want to be in Mayfield Junior High's Basket Boy Hall of Fame, and that really, what was in the basket didn't matter. It wasn't like girls were bidding on the basket. When you got right down to it, this was a meat market.

Pretty soon you've completely lost your name. You and nineteen other saps are known simply as Basket Boy.

"You eat lunch on campus and that's the end of it. It is hardly a meat market, Bryce. It's an honor! Besides, maybe someone really nice will bid on you and you'll make a new friend!" Mothers can be in such denial.

Her parents give her anything she wants, too. Rumor has it they converted their garage into a full-on basketball court just for her.

Which meant that in the game of the basket boys, I was as good as slam-dunked.

I told him to shut up, but he was right. With the way my luck was running, I'd probably get stuck with Jumbo Jenny. I could just see it -- six feet of beefy babe downing both halves of my lunch and then coming after me. Jenny's the only girl or guy on campus who can dunk a basketball. The whole gym shakes when she lands. And since she's got no, you know… female parabolas, the girl could shave her head and make it in the NBA. Seriously. No one would ever suspect.

Unless, unless Shelly or Miranda was high bidder. But how could I make sure that happened? My brain went into overdrive, constructing a plan, and in the end I decided that there was only one sensible course of action.

Halfway through my first day of doing this, I felt like a skunk. Not that I was being gross about it or anything. I was just, you know, friendly. And even though Shelly and Miranda didn't seem to smell a thing, Garrett did.

Kiss up to both of them.

He shrugs. "Haven't heard. But we'll find out tomorrow, won't we, dude?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Dude!" he says to me on Thursday. "I can see your game, man."

"Don't deny it, dude. You're working them both." He comes up and whispers in my ear, "Basket boy or not, I'm in awe."

"Shut up, man."

"Seriously! The Ear says they were, like, clawing each other in P. E. today."

Kids whistled and shouted, "Oooh, baby!" as I headed up the walkway, and then Jumbo Jenny passed me, taking the front steps three at a time. "Wow, Bryce," she said over her shoulder. "You look… delicious."

I had to know. "What about… Jumbo Jenny?"

My mother dropped me off at school on Friday with my stupid oversized picnic basket, and since all basket boys have to dress up, I was choking in a tie and feeling completely dweeblike in slacks and dress shoes.

Oh, man! I practically ran to the classroom where all the basket boys were supposed to meet, and the minute I walked in, I felt better. I was surrounded by other dweebs, who seemed genuinely happy to see me. "Hey, Loski"; "Yo, dude"; "Doesn't this suck eggs?"; "Why didn't you take the bus, man?"

Not one word about our baskets. Not one little sneak peek inside. No, for all she cared, those puppies were empty.

Then Mrs. McClure, the president of the Boosters, the lady who lassoed us all, hoofs it through the door. "Oh, my!" she says. "You all look so handsome!"

You better believe it!

"Okay, gentlemen," she says."Leave your baskets where they are and go to… where are we now? Still in second?" She looks at the clock. "Right. Second."

Meat market?

Misery loves company.

"Don't be so nervous, boys," Mrs. McClure was saying. "You're going to have a wonderful day!" She pulls out a list of names and starts ordering us into line. We get numbers; our baskets get numbers; we fill out three-by-five cards to her insane specifications; and by the time she's got us all organized and is sure we know what to do and what not to do, we've missed all of first and most of second period.

"What about passes?" some sensible basket boy asked.

"Your teachers have a list. But if they say anything, tell them I say your neckties are your passes. I'll meet you back here when everyone's dismissed for the auction. Got it? Don't dawdle!"

Some of the moms showed up and stood off to the side with their camcorders and zoom lenses, fidgeting and waving and basically acting as dweeby as their sons looked. I should know. My mom took an hour off work to be one of them.

Whoever started this stupid tradition ought to be crammed into a basket and tossed downstream without a serving spoon.

Yes, my friend, the possibilities for mortification were infinite.

We grumbled, Yeah, yeah, and headed to class. And I can tell you this, not one of the twenty of us listened to a word any of our teachers said that morning. How can you listen with a noose around your neck, pinched toes, and a room full of idiots thinking it's open season on basket boys?

Tim Pello was basket boy number five, and his mom actually bid on him. No kidding. She jumped up and down, yelling, "Twenty! I'll give you twenty!" Man, that'll brand you for life. Lucky for Tim, Kelly Trott came up with twenty-two fifty and saved his sorry self from everlasting torture as a mama's boy -- one of the few fates worse than basket boy.

I was basket boy number nine. Which meant I had to stand there on the stage in the gym while nearly half the guys got auctioned off. Minimum bid, ten bucks. And if nobody bid, the secret was a teacher was assigned to bid on you.

Caleb Hughes was up next, and he fetched the Boosters all of eleven fifty. Then came Chad Ormonde, who I swear was ready to pee his pants when Mrs. McClure made him step forward. She read his card, pinched his cheeks, and raked in fifteen even.

Mrs. McClure calls into the microphone, "Do I hear ten?" and it took me a minute to tune in to the fact that no one said "Ten!" No one said anything. "Come on, out there! The lunch is delicious. Strawberry tarts, um…" And Mrs. McClure goes back to reading off the three-by-five about Jon Trulock's lunch.

Talk about embarrassing! This was worse than being a mama's boy. Worse than lunch with Jumbo Jenny! How'd he get voted basket boy if nobody wanted to have lunch with him?

At this point what stood between me and the auction block was Jon Trulock. And I wasn't exactly interested in what he had in his basket or what his hobbies and favorite sports were. I was too busy scanning the crowd for Jumbo Jenny, sweating my pits off.

Then off to the right of the crowd I hear, "Ten!"

"Sixteen!" came the other voice.

The first voice came back with "Fifteen!" and all of a sudden I recognized whose voice it was.

I searched through the crowd and found her, hand waving in the air, that look all over her face.

Juli Baker's.

"Eighteen!" cries Mrs. McClure, who looks like she's about to collapse from relief. She pauses, then says, "Eighteen going once… Eighteen going twice… Sold! for eighteen dollars."

"Ten? Did I hear ten?" Mrs. McClure says with a fluttery smile. "Twelve!" came a different voice from the same area.

There was a pause, but then Juli shoots back with "Eighteen!"

To Juli? She was the last person I expected to bid on a lunch. Anybody's lunch.

Jon staggered back into line. And I knew I was supposed to step forward, but I couldn't budge. I felt like I'd been slugged in the stomach. Did Juli like Jon? Is that why she'd been so… so… nice lately? Because she didn't care about me anymore? All my life she'd been there, waiting to be avoided, and now it was like I didn't even exist. "Step up, Bryce. Come on, don't be shy!"

"Forty!"

"What's that?" says Mrs. McClure.

Then I spot her. She's about twenty feet behind Miranda, cleaning her fingernails with her teeth.

"Twenty!" calls Miranda Humes from dead center.

"Fifty-two."

"Thirty-five!"

"Fifty!"

"Oh," she laughs as she puts down her notes. "Well, I guess I hear ten!"

Miranda scrambles around trying to beg money off her friends as Mrs. McClure calls, "Going once!" But then Jenny stands up and bellows, "A hundred!"

I'm looking around for Jumbo Jenny, praying she's gone home sick or something, while Shelly and Miranda go up by fives. "Thirty!"

"Forty-five!"

It felt like walking the plank. I just stood up front sweating bullets while the Booster queen dissected my lunch and started running through my list of favorites. Before she's even finished, though, Shelly Stalls calls out, "Ten!"

"Twenty-five!" It's Shelly again.

"Fifty-two?" interrupts the Booster queen. "Well, this has been lively! And from the looks of this basket, well worth the --"

"Sixty!"

"I'll give you ten!"

"Sixty-two!" calls Shelly.

Mike Abenido shoved me a little and said, "Your turn for torture. Get up there!"

I wanted to boost her, right off the stage. I was doomed. This was something I would never live down.

Jenny just shrugs and goes back to cleaning a nail.

A hundred. There's a collective gasp, and then the entire student body turns and stares at Jenny.

"Well!" laughs Mrs. McClure. "We have a hundred! That is certainly an all-time record. And such a generous donation to the Boosters!"

Then there's this big commotion, and all of a sudden Shelly and Miranda are standing right next to each other calling, "One-twenty-two… fifty! We'll give you one-twenty-two fifty!"

"One hundred twenty-two dollars and fifty cents?" I thought the Booster queen was gonna polka. "You're pooling your resources to have lunch with this fine young man?"

"Yeah!" they call, then look over Jenny's way. Everybody looks over Jenny's way.

"Well, then! One hundred twenty-two dollars and fifty cents going once… One hundred twenty-two dollars and fifty cents going twice… Sold to those two beautiful young ladies for an all-time record of one hundred twenty-two dollars and fifty cents!"

He didn't even come close. He got Terry Norris for sixteen bucks, and the most anyone else got was forty. And when it was over, all the guys told me, "Dude! You are, like, the man… Score!" but I didn't feel like the man. I felt wiped out.

The Boosters had outfitted the MPR with little tables for two, all decorated in shades of pink and blue and yellow, with balloons and streamers everywhere. I felt like the Easter bunny with my stupid basket boy lunch clutched in both hands while Miranda held on to one arm and Shelly latched on to the other.

They gave us the biggest table and whisked in an extra chair, and when everyone was seated, Mrs. McClure said, "Boys and girls? I don't think I need to remind you that you are excused from class for the rest of the day. Enjoy your lunches, enjoy your friendships… Take your time, relax, and thanks again for supporting your Boosters. We wouldn't be us without you!"

"Dude!" Mike whispered when I got back in line. "Shelly and Miranda? How am I supposed to follow that?"

My mom came up and gave me a hug and a kiss like I'd won a gold medal or something, then whispered, "My little baby," and clickity-clicked off in her high heels, back to work.

So I was wiped out, embarrassed, and then practically dragged to the multi-purpose room by Shelly and Miranda.

I mean, these two girls may be gorgeous, but what was coming out of their mouths about Jumbo Jenny was embarrassingly ugly. Miranda works herself up to, "What was she thinking? Like you would ever want to go out with her, right, Bryce?"

Buddy, I was miserable.

So there I was, with the two hottest girls on campus, having lunch. I was "the man," the envy of every other guy in school.

Well, yeah. That was right. But it seemed really wrong to say so. "Look, can we talk about something else?"

"Sure. Like what?"

Miranda shoots off first. "We're taking a cruise to the Mexican Riviera. We're supposed to stop in all these cool ports and shop and stuff." She flutters her eyelids at me and says, "I could bring you something back…"

Shelly scoots her chair in a little and says, "We're going up to the lake. My dad has a cabin there, and you can get the most outrageous tan. Do you remember what I looked like at the beginning of this year? I was, like, black. I'm going to do that again, only this time I've got a schedule all worked out so that it's even every where." She giggles and says, "Don't tell my mom, okay? She would have a ka-nip!"

"I don't care. Anything else. You guys going anywhere this summer?"

I felt myself spinning out of control. It was weird. Like I couldn't even steer my own body. I'd always thought Jon was pretty cool, but right then I wanted to go over and throw him across the room.

And this, my friend, is how the Tan Wars began. Miranda told Shelly that she didn't even notice her tan at the beginning of the year and that the place to really roast is on a cruise ship. Shelly told Miranda that anyone with freckles can't really get tan and since Miranda had freckles everywhere, the cruise was a guaranteed waste of money. I choked down my third of the lunch and looked around the room, trying to let it all flow past me.

Then I saw Juli. She was two tables away from me, facing my direction. Only she wasn't looking at me. She was looking at Jon, her eyes all sparkly and laughing.

My heart lurched. What was she laughing about? What were they talking about? How could she sit there and look so… beautiful?

Shelly grabbed my arm and said, "Bryce, are you all right? You look… I don't know… possessed or something."

Do the right thing…

But I couldn't stop myself from looking again. And in the back of my mind, I could hear my grandfather's voice saying, "The choices you make now will affect you for the rest of your life. Do the right thing…".

"What are you staring at?" Miranda asked. They both looked over their shoulders, then shrugged and went back to picking at their food.

Miranda shook me out of it, asking, "Bryce? Are you in there? I asked, what are you going to do this summer?"

Do the right thing…

It was torture. I wanted to scream, Shut up! Leave me alone! I wanted to run out of the building and keep on running until I didn't feel like this anymore.

"Lunch is really delicious, Bryce." Miranda's voice was floating around. "Bryce? Did you hear me? This is really a spectacular lunch."

"I don't know," I snapped.

"What? Oh." I tried taking a deep breath.

"Hey, maybe you can spend some time up at the lake with us!" Shelly said.

A simple little thank you would've sufficed. But could I come up with a simple little thank you?

"Perpetual what?"

I blinked at her, then at Shelly. "How about perpetual motion? Know anything about that?"

"Hey… I'm plenty smart!"

"He is too smart, Miranda."

No. I turned on her and said, "Can we not talk about food or tans or hair?"

She gave me an uppity little smile. "Well, what do you want to talk about, then?"

She looks at me a minute, then snickers. "I didn't realize I'd bid on an intellectual."

"What?" I ask her. "What's so funny?"

Miranda starts laughing.

"You heard me. He's not going to take you to the grad dance anyway, so just give it up, why don't you?"

"Oh, stop kissing up, Shelly. You're trying to tell me you're after his brain? God, it's making me sick to watch you grovel."

And with that, it was all over. One of my mom's flaky apple tarts got ground into Miranda's hair; the extra ranch dressing got smeared into Shelly's. And before Mrs. McClure could say, In the name of Boosters! What are you doing? they were rolling on the floor, scratching each other's makeup off.

"Grovel? Excuse me?"

"Yeah?" Miranda giggles. "Can you spell intellectual?"

"Yes!"

"Bryce," she whispers. "What's wrong?"

No! She said no! I didn't care where I was, I didn't care who saw. I wanted, just had to kiss her. I leaned in, closed my eyes, and then…

She sort of half-stands and says, "What? What's going on, Bryce? Why are they fighting?"

I took this opportunity to leave my table and head for Juli's. I grabbed her by the hand and said, "I've got to talk to you."

I can barely breathe as I ask her, "Do you like him?"

"No, do you like him?" My heart was pounding through my chest as I took her other hand and waited.

"Do I… you mean Jon?"

"Well, no. I mean, not like that…"

She broke away from me.

"Excuse us a minute, would you, Jon?" I pull her away from the table, but there's no place to go. And I've got her hand in mine, and I just can't think. So I stop right there in the middle of the room and look at her. At that face. I want to touch her cheek and see what it feels like. I want to touch her hair, it looks so incredibly soft.

"Well, sure. He's nice and --"

Suddenly, the room was dead quiet. Miranda and Shelly stared at me through their slimy hair, everyone was looking at me like I'd blown my entire circuit board, and I just stood there, trying to reel in my lips and pull myself back together.

To kiss her.

I didn't say a word. I just headed for the bike racks, still hoping to find Juli.

"You don't understand."

"You get hooked up with the two finest chicks on campus, then bail on them for Juli?"

Mrs. McClure took me by the shoulders, guided me to my chair, and told me, "You sit here, and you stay here!" Then she hauled Miranda and Shelly outside, scolding them and telling them to find separate bathrooms and clean up while she ran down the janitor to mop up their mess.

Garrett, however, wasn't. He tracked me down and said, "Dude! Tell me it isn't true!"

"Oh, man… it is true!"

"Leave me alone, Garrett."

I sat there by myself and didn't even care about covering up. I just wanted to be with her. To talk to her. To hold her hand again.

I looked everywhere for her, but she was just gone.

"You're right, dude. I completely don't understand. Did you seriously try to kiss her? I couldn't believe that part. We're talking Julianna Baker? Your nightmare neighbor? The know-it-all nuisance? The coop poop babe?"

Before school was out, I tried to talk to her again, but every time I got close, she'd dodge me. And then when the final bell rang, she disappeared.

"Just back off, would you?"

I stopped cold and shoved him. Just laid into him with both hands and shoved. "That was a long time ago, man. Knock it off!"

He blocked my path. "I can't believe this! Two hours ago you were the man. The man! The whole school was on their knees before you! Now look at you. You're, like, a social hazard." He snorted and said, "And, dude, the truth is, if you're gonna be like this, I don't need the association."

Garrett put both hands up, but moved in at me. "Dude, you have flipped, you know that?"

I wound up walking home. In my pinchy shoes, with dirty dishes clanking inside my sticky picnic hamper, this basket boy hiked all the way home.

I got right in his face and said, "Good! 'Cause you know what? Neither do I!" I shoved him aside and ran.

And there was a battle raging inside me. The old Bryce wanted to go back in time, wanted to hang with Garrett and shoot the breeze, wanted to hate Juli Baker again. Wanted to be the man.

But in my heart I knew the old Bryce was toast. There was no going back. Not to Garrett or Shelly or Miranda or any of the other people who wouldn't understand. Juli was different, but after all these years that didn't bother me anymore.

I trucked down our street and spotted her bike lying on its side on the driveway. She was home!

No answer.

I liked her.

No answer.

I liked it.

I rang the bell until I thought it would break.

I'd never felt like this before. Ever. And just admitting it to myself instead of hiding from it made me feel strong. Happy. I took off my shoes and socks and stuffed them in the basket. My tie whipped over my shoulder as I ran home barefoot, and I realized that Garrett was right about one thing -- I had flipped. Completely.

Maybe it came from whacking at two-by-fours and dreaming about perpetual motion. I don't know. All I know is that compared to her, Shelly and Miranda seemed so… ordinary.

And every time I saw her, she seemed more beautiful. She just seemed to glow. I'm not talking like a hundred-watt bulb; she just had this warmth to her. Maybe it came from climbing that tree. Maybe it came from singing to chickens.

I pounded on her door.

I went home and called on the phone, and finally, finally her mother answers. "Bryce? No, I'm sorry. She doesn't want to talk." Then she whispers, "Give her a little time, won't you?"

Tomorrow? I couldn't wait until tomorrow! So I went around the side of their house, climbed the fence, and knocked on her window. "Juli! Juli, please. I've got to see you."

"Juli!"

"Well, what happened?"

"Does she have reason to be mad at you?"

He hesitated. "Is she… mad at you?"

He led me into the front room, saying, "Who won't talk to you?"

"I tried to kiss her! In front of this whole room of people, while I was supposed to be having that stupid basket boy lunch with Shelly and Miranda, I tried to kiss her!"

I blurted, "I can't believe this! I just can't believe this! She won't talk to me!"

When I got home, my granddad was waiting at the front door. "Bryce, what is going on? You've been running back and forth to the Bakers', climbing over their fence… You're acting like the world's on fire!"

"She's locked herself in her room, dear. Why don't you try phoning tomorrow."

"I don't know!"

Her curtains didn't open, but the back door did, and out came Mrs. Baker to shoo me away.

"No! Yes! I mean, I don't know!"

I gave her an hour. Almost. Then I went across the street. "Please, Mrs. Baker. I've got to see her!"

"I was, like, possessed. I couldn't stop myself! But she pulled away and…" I looked out the window at the Bakers" house. "And now she won't talk to me!"

Slowly a smile spread across his face. "You did?"

My grandfather stood beside me and looked across the street, too. "No, Bryce," he said softly. "She's the same as she's always been; you're the one who's changed." He clapped his hand on my shoulder and whispered, "And, son, from here on out, you'll never be the same again."

Very quietly my grandfather said, "Maybe she thinks this is all a little sudden?"

"It's not?"

Maybe my grandfather's happy about all this, but I'm miserable. I can't eat; I can't watch TV; I can't seem to do anything.

"But it's not!"

"No, I mean…" I turned to him. "It started with that stupid newspaper article. And I don't know… I've been weirded out ever since. She doesn't look the same, she doesn't sound the same, she doesn't even seem like the same person to me!" I stared out the window at the Bakers". "She's… she's just different."

So I went to bed early, but I can't sleep. I've watched her house from my window for hours now. I've stared at the sky; I've counted sheep. But man, I can't stop kicking myself for what an idiot I've been all these years.

And since you know what a tree-climbing weenie I am, I think it's pretty clear that I'm willing to do anything to get her to talk to me. Man, I'll dive after her into a chicken coop full of poop if that's what it takes. I'll ride my bike all the stinkin' way to school for the rest of eternity if it means being with her.

And now how am I going to make her listen to me? I'd scale that monster sycamore if I could. Right to the top. And I'd yell her name across the rooftops for the whole world to hear.

But what? How do I show her that I'm not the guy she thinks I am? How do I erase everything I've done and start over?

Maybe I can't. Maybe it just can not be done. But if I've learned one thing from Juli Baker, it's that I've got to put my whole heart and soul into it and try.

Something. I've got to come up with some thing to show her that I've changed. To prove to her that I understand.

I'll never be the same again.

Whatever happens, I know that my grandfather's right about one thing.