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I'll never be able to fool anyone...

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"Yup," said Glen giving Shayla a look that kept her from interrupting.

"You're talking real money?" I wanted to know.

"Yup," said Glen. "Greenbacks. Simoleons. Smackeroos."

"Not any of my Underoos," said Shayla. "At least, not without an explanation of why it would be worth it to me."

"That creep Nichols dumped you, right? Wanna get even?" Glen showed his vampire fangs again. "You can introduce him to your cousin, Annie." He gestured toward me.

"Say what?" Nichols was Trent Nichols, big time football star from the private academy in our town, the one we all called St. Snooty. Well, all us regular kids who went to public school called it that. He was a senior, over six foot tall and he could undoubtedly break me in half with his tonsils tied behind his back. Meaning he was tough as well as big and strong. Two years ago, as a sophomore on varsity, he'd played the last quarter of the league championship game with a broken hand. Oh, and his family owned a car dealership in town but they weren't mega-rich, more than half his tuition at Snotty was paid for with an academic scholarship. Big, strong, tough and smart ... and Glen wanted me to .... "No way," I said.

Shayla looked at me, smiling. "It would be a great joke on Trent."

"Wait a minute, wait a minute," I said, waving my arms in front of me. I moved away a little bit, too, hoping they couldn't hear my heart pounding.

The big room in the Sullivan basement had two old couches in it and a cement floor covered in tattered old rugs. Along the back wall, a little door opened up to where the old coal furnace had been before being replaced with a modern propane one. I think the water heater and some other stuff was in there, too. Boxes of stuff in storage covered another wall and piles of old cushions on the floor could be used as more seating. It wasn't a palace but we spent a lot of time down there because the TV had connection to the antenna on their roof and they got pretty good reception from Kansas City without relying on the local UHF station.

I'd been sitting on the floor, sort of nesting amid all the cushions, so when I retreated, I just pushed on the floor and scooted me, cushions and rugs backward on the slick cement under it all. Some of the other rugs and cushions moved the other way and Shayla protested. "Hey! Don't do that. You want the money or not?"

"Uh, well," I said, startled by her sharpness. This was the girl who a few years ago would use her muscles and size to get down in the floor and out-wrestle both of us smaller, younger boys. But in the last few years, since giving up gymnastics, she'd changed and liked to keep things neat and, well, pretty. And when she turned on her ability to sound like someone's mom, it was sort of scary.

Both of my friends were growing up and I still felt like a little kid. Shayla was taller than me and still had those muscles because she ran girl's cross country and played on the softball team and swam in the summer. Glen had shot up over the last two years and at fourteen, he stood almost as tall as his dad, he'd been on the frosh football and basketball teams, both of which I'd been cut from for being too small. I hadn't hit a real growth spurt and wondered if I ever would.

Shayla stood, kicking the rugs and cushions back into place. "Get up," she said, holding a hand out to help me out of my piled up nest. I took her hand and she lifted me easily. "C'mon," she said, "we'll see if what of my old stuff will fit you." She didn't let go of my hand which meant I had to sort of move sideways to keep up.

"I never said I'd do this," I said, trying not to trip.

She just laughed and switched hands so I didn't have to walk backwards.

I looked over at Glen, still lying on the couch. "Help," I said.

But he laughed, too and threw a pillow at me. "Go on, Annie. I wanna see what you look like," he said.

I gave him a raspberry and he made a kissy face at me.

"C'mon," said Shayla. "It's not gonna hurt and if you look like a dork, we won't do it." She glanced at me. "But you won't." She coaxed me to the stairs where we had to step over the cat, Mustache Pete, a white cat with a mustache at each end.

"I'm scared," I whispered to her.

"Don't be," she said, whispering back. "I won't let anyone hurt you, and neither will Glen."

"I'll never be able to fool anyone," I said, a little louder.

"Sure you will," Shayla said, dragging me a little further up the stairs. Pete got up to follow us, but then, he usually followed me around at the Sullivans' for some reason.

"Meow," said Pete, head bumping my ankle. I guess he liked me. We didn't have any pets at my house because of Mom's allergies so I really enjoyed Pete's affection.

Glen had grabbed up the TV remote and switched channels. "C'mon down here, Pete," he said. Then in a stage whisper, "With the girls out of the room, we can watch the game."

Pete looked at Glen, looked at me then hurried down the stairs to join Glen on the ratty old couch.

"Traitor," I whispered to him. I looked at Shayla who squeezed my hand.

"Guys," she said, rolling her eyes. "C'mon, we can see if you'll fit into my old Baby Ball gown."

I tried to pull away again but she practically dragged me up the stairs, laughing.