wide. Oh, man, I think, and I turn around. Sure enough, thereâs Malfoy, right behind us.
Oh, manâ¦
I turn back quick, and Tim is looking right at me. I mouth the words: Did he hear?
Tim just shrugs. I risk another quick look over my shoulder, but Malfoyâs gone. He took the turnoff toward the library.
âWhoops!â I say, and Tim chuckles.
âWhat?â says Andy.
âMalfoy was right behind us!â says Tim.
The rest of them look back, but that only confirms that heâs not there anymore.
âReally?â says Dustin.
âYep,â I say.
âOoooooh!â they say. Chester starts it, and they all join in.
âHeâs gonna be steamed,â says Dustin. âThatâs likeâ â and he pauses to count â âthree disses in one.â
Itâs true. Strike one: I called him Malfoy, which he hates. Strike two: I basically said straight out that J.P. is vastly superior to him, which he isnât willing to admit.And strike three: I said heâd get roughed up and knocked out of the game. Yeah, thatâs bad.
âMaybe he didnât even hear,â I say.
And maybe he didnât. I mean, itâs possible. Maybe he wasnât even paying attention. Maybe he was thinking about, I donât know, potions class or something.
Iâm hoping more than thinking, though. Iâve got enough trouble without that: Heâs our number two pitcher and Coach Meachamâs number one son and a giant jerk-butt, anyway. Plus, well, I havenât really mentioned this yet, but weâve kind of got a history, Malfoy and I. Iâm just starting to think about that when Dustin sums things up.
âHeâs going to be steamed,â Dustin repeats, like the case is settled. He thinks he knows Malfoy best because he catches him. I know he doesnât. Like I said, weâve got that history. Thatâs how I know that steamed wouldnât even begin to cover it.
We head back to our lockers. Chester and Tim peel off, leaving Dustin, Andy, and me.
âCanât believe I did that,â I say.
âDid what?â says Dustin. Heâs honestly stumped for a second, even though it was just a few minutes ago. âOh, the thing with Malfoy? Donât sweat it.â
âYouâre the one who said he was going to be so mad,â I remind him.
âYeah, but who are we talking about here?â says Dustin. âHeâs always mad.â
âGood point,â I say. I want to say more, but weâve reached Dustinâs locker.
Now itâs just Andy and me. Heâs the one guy I donât have to explain this to.
âNot good,â he says.
âNope,â I say.
âDéjà vu,â he says.
âYep,â I say.
And then he ducks his head into his locker, and Iâm alone in the hallway.
Iâm thinking about what happened with Malfoy. I donât mean five minutes ago, I mean five years. Iâll just say it: Malfoy and I used to be best friends. Thatâs the history. This was like kindergarten and first grade. I guess, if you want to look at it that way, he was my first best friend. âMeach,â thatâs what I called him back then.
Malfoy and I â Meach, whatever â itâs not like we had a big argument or anything. I mean, he was always a little out there. I remember once, in kindergarten, he cut all the limbs off one of the playtime dolls with those green-handled safety scissors. He cut it up and left it there for the girls to find. He did that just the one time, but there were other things.
It wasnât really that stuff, though. I just met Andy in second grade, and we got along better. Maybe we had more in common or something, I donât know. It was second grade. But those two didnât get along at all, and so there I was: monkey in the middle. And I made my choice.
When I get home itâs like, good sweet lord, all I want to do is get to my room,
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