Any Way You Slice It by Kristine Carlson Asselin Page A

have let him walk me home. And Grams talked to his mother the other day. There’s no way he’s a criminal. But Warren cannot talk to my parents about anything related to hockey. I turn around and give him my best see-if-I-care attitude. “Go ahead, it’s not like I’m trying to hide anything from them.”
    Mr. Ford looks over with a finger covering his lips, the universal sign for “no talking.”
    For a second I think my bluff works. Warren just shrugs. “So then I guess you won’t mind if I tell Troy Depalma about the Pizza Princess hockey phenom when he starts filming for
Local Flavor
next week.”
    My blood runs cold. “What?”
    â€œOh, didn’t you know? Troy’s producer showed up during practice last night and asked everyone to be on the show about your restaurant. A bunch of us have appointments to talk to him about the town and how much we
love
your dad’s pizza.” He taps his desk with his pencil. “I’ll have to think about what I’m going to say.”
    I stare at the board and pretend I’m focused on Mr. Ford’s lesson about algorithms. I make a quick calculation about how fast Warren can ruin my life.
    â€œWhat about your uncle?”
    He shrugs. “My uncle’s pizza sucks.”
    â€œWhat do you want?” I can’t believe I’m considering giving in to his blackmail.
    â€œFree pizza for me and all my friends would be a good place to start.”
    My stomach turns at the thought of Warren and his pals. “Wouldn’t your uncle be mad if you’re eating at Slice?”
    â€œAnd …” He pauses, like there’s a thought that’s just out of reach.
    I realize he’s not done yet and I close my eyes waiting for the guillotine.
    Hunter Tilton, who has been listening to the whole exchange with a huge smirk on his face pipes up. “Ha. Tim won’t let him eat free pizza anymore. He fired him for using the delivery truck without permission.”
    â€œShut up, Tilton.” He snaps his fingers and whispers. “A date.”
    I’m staring at him, waiting for the punch line.
    He’s serious.
    Warren leans forward again. “So, Spaulding. What do you say?”
    I want to say,
Gross. Not in this or any lifetime
. But my parents cannot find out I’m playing hockey from a cretin like Warren, so I nod my agreement.
    Jake’s going to be irritated. But he’ll have to understand. “Free pizza. And one date. Only one. In exchange for your silence about me playing hockey with Jake and the Rink Rats.”
    I cannot believe I’m caving to blackmail.
    â€œFine,” Warren hisses. “But you can’t tell anyone why you’re going out with me. I need to make Ashley jealous, so no one can know this isn’t for real.”
    I glance at Hunter, who draws his finger across his lips with an imaginary zipper.
    â€œMiss Spaulding, one more word and its detention. You too, Mr. McNeill.” Ford weighs in a minute too late to save me.
    Figures
.
    Warren keeps his mouth shut for the rest of the class, but at the end, he says in a loud voice that everyone in the class hears, “Can’t wait for our date, Penelope.”
    I put my head down on the desk until Mr. Ford comes over. I think maybe he’s going to comfort me, say something wise and perhaps parental, but he just says, “Next class is about to start Miss Spaulding, you’ve got to move along.”
    It won’t be that bad, or at least that’s what I tell myself. But as soon as I see Jake, he’s frowning like he just found out he’s got detention for a month. News travels fast when Caroline Chapman is in your class.
    â€œWhat’s up?” I’m playing it cool, hoping he’s just in a bad mood, but I know it’s more than that. Since I’ve been on the team, Jake has
never
not smiled at me like I am the only girl in the room.
    â€œOh, there’s