How to Take the Ex Out of Ex-Boyfriend by Janette Rallison Page A

then reached back into the fridge for the mustard. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’d planned on being the family delinquent, but you’ve already taken that title.” He spread the mustard on his bread slowly, his humor, even his sarcasm, suddenly gone. “But I still don’t want to let Wilson get away with it. He’s turned our party into a contest. It’s like the voting isn’t secret. Everyone has to choose this Saturday who they support.”
    I didn’t answer for a moment, because Dante was right. Still, I felt the need to say something, to somehow make it all better.
    Dante and I have been looking out for each other for a long time. Mostly these days I feel like I’m looking out for him, but it didn’t used to be that way. When Dante and I first started kindergarten, my parents had to make sure we went to the same class, because I refused to talk to the teacher. Dante had to speak for me for half the year.
    I leaned against the countertop and surveyed my brother. “Just because they go to Wilson’s party doesn’t mean they’ll vote for him. And maybe we can think of something—you know, something legal—to help our cause.”
    Dante slapped the top piece of bread on his sandwich. “Do you suppose Dad and Gabby would let me hire a band?”
    â€œHave you even asked them yet if you can have the party?”
    He shrugged, picked up his sandwich, and took a bite. “I’ll get around to it.”
    â€œDon’t you think you should do it soon?”
    â€œI’m sure it will be soon.” He took another bite, and then I guess because I kept staring at him, he added, “I have a system. I’m waiting to ask Gabby at a time when I know she won’t turn me down.”
    â€œWhen is that?” I didn’t believe such a thing was possible, but if it was, I wanted in on it too.
    He ignored me and wandered toward the kitchen door. “We should get a head count of all the people who are coming, so we know how much food and stuff to buy. Ask around and see which of the people that you talked to will be here.”
    â€œRight,” I said, but I dreaded the thought. I mean, what if no one came?
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    The next day at school as Charity and I walked to our first period class, Dante came up beside us. “Get this. Wilson is telling people if they sign my petition they can’t come to his party. Two people came up to Brandon today and asked him to cross their names off my list.”
    Charity let out a gasp. “That’s terrible.”
    â€œPlus, Stephen only got four names and he’s out sick today. Or skipping, but anyway, I’m eight names short.”
    Right after he said this, we walked past a guy who lives down the street from us. “Hey, Gibbs,” Dante called to him. “Can you sign my petition?”
    The guy shrugged and frowned. “Sorry, I already signed Wilson’s.”
    â€œThat’s okay,” Dante said, but as soon as the guy was out of earshot, Dante swore. Charity swatted him. She’s trying to break him of his swearing habit through the gentle persuasion of smacking him whenever he does it.
    The muscles tensed in his jaw. “You think this is easy?” he asked her. “Here, you collect some more names.” He held the paper toward her, but she didn’t take it.
    â€œSorry, but I got most of my names by telling people that my daddy would ask them to speak in church if they didn’t sign.” She let out a sigh. “I can only threaten so many people.”
    Dante shook his head. “My dad’s an accountant. I have no leverage.”
    We continued to walk through the flow of students. Dante rolled up the petition and tapped it against his leg as his gaze darted back and forth through the hallway. He looked like he wanted to club someone with it.
    Charity kept glancing at him. She shrugged and said, “Well, you could always act