Brooke's Not-So-Perfect Plan by Jo Whittemore

is. It might not even be a guy! It could be the lunch lady.”
    The rest of us stared him down.
    He shifted in his seat. “Or . . . it might be the cutest guy in school who’s also an actor and raises money to help needy sea otters.”
    Heather patted him on the hand. “Maybe just stop.”
    â€œWhy don’t you write a note to your secret admirer?” suggested Vanessa. “He always puts his in the advice box. We could leave it unlocked, and you could leave a note for him to find.”
    â€œThat’s not a bad idea,” I said.
    â€œThat’s a terrible idea!” said Tim. “You’re turning this into a bigger deal than it is, and you’re going to scare him off.”
    â€œI like it,” spoke up Heather. “It takes a lot ofcourage to talk to someone you’re interested in.” Her gaze wandered past Tim, to where Stefan stood talking to Mrs. H.
    The only one who looked over was Mrs. H, who smiled, glanced at her watch, and approached our table.
    â€œAre we ready to get these to our readers?” She patted one of the newspaper bundles, and all four of us nodded. “Great! Heather and Tim, why don’t you take the east side of the sixth grade hall while Brooke and Vanessa take the west?”
    â€œYou got it,” said Tim, taking a bundle and gesturing to Heather. “After you.”
    I picked up the other bundle and carried it in both arms. The advice, and my secret admirer, would have to wait for now. “You ready for potential ridicule and shame?” I asked Vanessa. “You’re with the Booger Eater, you know.”
    â€œBooger Eater and Blank Stare,” she said with a grin. “When you need a crime to not besolved, you know who to call!”
    I laughed and led the way down the hall. At the first classroom, Vanessa knocked on the door and poked her head in.
    â€œSpecial delivery!” she said.
    I snipped the twine with a pair of scissors and started passing out copies, greeting everyone with a big smile.
    â€œHi, how are you? Check out the advice column, it’s pretty awesome.”
    â€œDo you give advice on how to eat boogers?” a guy wearing a basketball jersey asked.
    Several people laughed.
    â€œDo you give advice on terrible sports teams to follow?” I asked, gesturing to his jersey.
    Several people said, “Oooh!”
    â€œNobody wants to play for the Kings. Not even the Kings,” I said. “How much did they pay you to wear that?”
    â€œI told you!” The guy sitting behind him saidgleefully, popping him in the shoulder.
    The guy in the jersey sneered at me. “Like you know anything about sports.”
    â€œI play soccer and coed baseball, and watch basketball, football, and golf,” I informed him. “You think you can stump me with something? Write in to the advice column.”
    â€œI will!” he said, opening up his notebook and scribbling on a sheet of paper.
    While I was busy not making friends, Vanessa had attracted a small group.
    â€œDon’t worry, people,” I said. “There’s plenty of news for—” The cluster of students opened to let me in.
    Vanessa had managed to get her head trapped under a chair.
    I widened my eyes. “What happened?”
    â€œI think it’s gum!” she called back in a muffled voice. “I dropped a paper under here and . . . Could you just get me out?”
    â€œSure,” I said, “but you’re not gonna like it.”
    Grabbing the same pair of scissors I’d used to cut the twine, I snipped her hair free of the gum under the chair.
    â€œThank goodness for hats,” she said, making a face and rubbing her freshly cut hair.
    We worked our way through ten more classrooms and made our way back to the main hall just as the bell rang. Vanessa and I gave each other a triumphant high five and headed for our next classes.
    Heather was pacing outside the door to our history