Plunked by Michael Northrop Page A

wide. Oh, man, I think, and I turn around. Sure enough, there’s Malfoy, right behind us.
    Oh, man…
    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 Malfoy’s gone. He took the turnoff toward the library.
    â€œWhoops!” I say, and Tim chuckles.
    â€œWhat?” says Andy.
    â€œMalfoy was right behind us!” says Tim.
    The rest of them look back, but that only confirms that he’s not there anymore.
    â€œReally?” says Dustin.
    â€œYep,” I say.
    â€œOoooooh!” they say. Chester starts it, and they all join in.
    â€œHe’s gonna be steamed,” says Dustin. “That’s like” — and he pauses to count — “three disses in one.”
    It’s 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 isn’t willing to admit.And strike three: I said he’d get roughed up and knocked out of the game. Yeah, that’s bad.
    â€œMaybe he didn’t even hear,” I say.
    And maybe he didn’t. I mean, it’s possible. Maybe he wasn’t even paying attention. Maybe he was thinking about, I don’t know, potions class or something.
    I’m hoping more than thinking, though. I’ve got enough trouble without that: He’s our number two pitcher and Coach Meacham’s number one son and a giant jerk-butt, anyway. Plus, well, I haven’t really mentioned this yet, but we’ve kind of got a history, Malfoy and I. I’m just starting to think about that when Dustin sums things up.
    â€œHe’s going to be steamed,” Dustin repeats, like the case is settled. He thinks he knows Malfoy best because he catches him. I know he doesn’t. Like I said, we’ve got that history. That’s how I know that steamed wouldn’t even begin to cover it.

We head back to our lockers. Chester and Tim peel off, leaving Dustin, Andy, and me.
    â€œCan’t believe I did that,” I say.
    â€œDid what?” says Dustin. He’s honestly stumped for a second, even though it was just a few minutes ago. “Oh, the thing with Malfoy? Don’t sweat it.”
    â€œYou’re the one who said he was going to be so mad,” I remind him.
    â€œYeah, but who are we talking about here?” says Dustin. “He’s always mad.”
    â€œGood point,” I say. I want to say more, but we’ve reached Dustin’s locker.
    Now it’s just Andy and me. He’s the one guy I don’t have to explain this to.
    â€œNot good,” he says.
    â€œNope,” I say.
    â€œDéjà vu,” he says.
    â€œYep,” I say.
    And then he ducks his head into his locker, and I’m alone in the hallway.
    I’m thinking about what happened with Malfoy. I don’t mean five minutes ago, I mean five years. I’ll just say it: Malfoy and I used to be best friends. That’s 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. “Meach,” that’s what I called him back then.
    Malfoy and I — Meach, whatever — it’s 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 wasn’t 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 don’t know. It was second grade. But those two didn’t get along at all, and so there I was: monkey in the middle. And I made my choice.

When I get home it’s like, good sweet lord, all I want to do is get to my room,