on one of them, but before I could get their attention,Berkeley clapped me on the shoulder.
âYou do what you gotta do, Tim. Iâll catch you later.â
He trotted off, and I shouted, âTell everyone I said hey!â
The girl was now shifting from foot to foot in front of me.
âOkay,â I said with a sigh. âHow can I help?â
âI need a gift for my sister,â said the girl. âShe doesnât like anything except chickens. Weird, right? Iâve already gotten her chicken pajamas and a Chicken Little hatââ
âHow old is your sister?â I interrupted.
âEighteen.â
My eyebrows lifted. âAh. Maybe start with slightly older gifts.â I thought for a moment. âHave you ever thought about taking her to a farm to see them for herself?â
The girlâs mouth dropped open, and her eyes lit up. âThatâs brilliant! When can you set that up?â
âSet what up?â I repeated.
âThe farm visit, duh!â She smacked my arm.
Why are girls always hitting?
âI donât take care of that,â I said.
She frowned. âBut your flyer said if we tell you who weâre shopping for, youâd take care of the rest.â
I sucked air through my teeth. âYeah, all that means is weâll give you gift advice.â
âOhhh.â She reached down and rummaged through her purse. âWell, how much do I owe you for the advice, then?â I saw a flash of green, and for a moment I was tempted to name my price, but one of the rules of our advice column is that we canât profit from it. In fact, we have an actual rulebook with that written in it.
âThereâs no charge,â I said. âJust happy to help.â
âThanks!â said the girl. âHave fun scaring people with your friends!â
As soon as she walked away, I headed for the exit, but another girl barred my path. âDid I just hear you tell that girl youâre giving advice on gifts? I need help finding something for my boyfriend.â
âSure,â I said with a shrug. âWhatââ
âGreat!â The girl reached into her backpack and pulled out a clothing catalog with a billion sticky notes between the pages. âBecause Iâm torn between a few options.â
âA few?â I asked, dropping into a chair.
She sat down next to me and turned to the first marked page. âWhat do you think of this shirt?â
I shrugged again. âItâs good.â
She squinted at me. âGood? Not great?â
âItâs a shirt,â I said. âNo guy is ever going to be superexcited about a shirt, unless itâs made of money.â
The girl tapped her fingers on the catalog, then flipped ahead a few pages. âWhat about pants?â
The bell for homeroom couldnât come soon enough. When it did, and I was finally free of Catalog Girl (who decided to just go with a gift card), Ryan suddenly appeared by my side.
âAnd the hits just keep on coming,â I said in a low voice.
âRelax,â he said. âIâm not here to ruin your day.â
âThen why are you here?â I asked.
âI need the details about Berkeleyâs party,â he said. âWhen, where, how much food I can take home in my sleeves . . .â
âWhat are you, a magician? You shouldnât be putting anything up your sleeves.â I grabbed him by the shoulders. âLook, Iâve been tasked with making you presentable at this party, so that starts now.â
âMaking me presentable?â Ryanâs face darkened a little. âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â
âIt means all of thisââI gestured to his whole appearanceââneeds work. Your clothes are wrinkled, your posture is prehistoric, and while shaggy hair is in, shaggy hair that looks like itâs been chewed is not.â I cleared my throat. âYouâre going to
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