The Dating Deal Read Online Free PDF Page A

basketball tucked securely under his arm.  Mom was in tow, having chauffeured him home from practice.
     
    “I heard you’re going to the school dance with Trent Ryan,” Seth said, twirling the basketball on his index finger.
     
    I widened my eyes with surprise.  So, did Mom.
     
    “Where’d you hear that?” I asked at the same moment Mom gushed, “You’re going to the dance?”
     
    “Maybe,” I murmured, still not quite believing it, and amazed Seth knew anything about it.  He was in junior high.  His school was twenty minutes away from mine.
     
    “Where’d you hear about the dance?” I repeated to Seth.
     
    He shrugged.  “At basketball practice.  Our assistant coach goes to Jefferson.”
     
    Jefferson High is my school.  So that cleared things up, sort of.  Only, people were talking about me going to the dance with Trent?  Everyone knew?  Even basketball players?  Yikes!
     
    “Why would Trent Ryan take you ?” Seth asked bluntly, seeming sincerely (not to mention completely) baffled by the concept.
     
    “Why wouldn’t he take her?” Mom said hurriedly. 
     
    She was always doing that these days—jumping in at the first sign of a situation that might, possibly, perhaps make me feel even more pathetic than I already did.  Being dumped isn’t exactly an ego booster.  
     
    “Your sister is a bright, beautiful girl,” Mom professed.  “Any boy would be lucky to take her to the dance.”
     
    Seth gave Mom a look that said, “Whatever.”  Then, spinning the ball on his finger again, he said, “But Trent Ryan’s cool .  He’s in this awesome, cool band, Baggage.  They rock.”
     
    “Well, your sister’s very musical, too,” Mom said, making it sound as though that solved the whole “Why Megan?” mystery.  But I could tell Seth’s remarks about Trent had her worried.  I could tell she was inwardly shaken, inwardly asking, “Is he Mormon?”  But all she said to Seth was, “This Trent obviously realizes he and Megan have a lot in common.”
     
    My little brother (who’s way taller than me)—who I used to push for hours and hours and hours on our backyard swing, and kill spiders for—smirked, playfully.  “They don’t have anything in common, Trent’s cool .”
     
    “Hey!”  I grabbed an oven mitt, throwing it at the towering twerp as he ran upstairs. 
     
    Then I turned to Mom.  She looked happy for me, happy that I was asked to the dance, but she looked doubtful as well.
     
    “Is this Trent a Mormon?”
     
    I could tell she pretty much already knew the answer. 
     
    I shook my head, then quietly, so Seth couldn’t hear, explained, “Trent and I made this deal  …”
     
    I told Mom all about class today; about Aspen being a jerk and Trent coming to my rescue, ending the convoluted tale by stressing, “Trent promised not to drink.”
     
    Mom still looked dubious.  “I’ll have to talk this over with your dad,” she said, visibly conflicted.  I knew she didn’t want to have to axe my date plans, not when she knew the torture I was under seeing Conner with Laura everyday at school.  But … Trent wasn’t Mormon.
     
    I knew Mom’s dilemma.  It was my dilemma too. 
     
    Still, I went on, pleading my case, and I sounded way more confident about it than I actually felt.  “We’re not going to start dating or anything,” I stressed.  “It’s just one night.  Just a dance.”
     
    Right?
     
    *  *  *  *  *
     
    After baking the cookies, I put them into a zip-lock baggie.  I thought about dropping them off at Trent’s on my way to mutual, but chickened out.  I couldn’t see myself knocking on his door and actually waiting for him to answer.  I knew me, it’d be like eighth grade all over again.  I’d take off running.
     
    I really am a coward.  Like, I couldn’t even go to Wendy’s house that day at the beginning of the school year to thank her for the Winnie the Pooh diary.  I guess because Trent had gotten my