Pack of Dorks by Beth Vrabel Page A

the morning, he had this little half-smile and his eyes followed me from the door to my seat. I wasn’t sure what that meant he was feeling, but I liked when it happened.
    Maybe I was spending too much time looking at his face.
    Right now his eyes were circles and his cheeks bright red. I guess that’s his why-are-you-staring-at-me face. And then he asked, “Why are you staring at me?”
    I shrugged, fighting off the blush I knew was creeping onto my cheeks. “Just trying to think of a new bet.”
    Sam smiled. “Make it a good one. The last one was lame.”
    Right before lunch, I had bet him that he couldn’t go an hour without using his thumbs. Watching him try to eat fish sticks using his pointer and middle finger was hilarious. They crumbled into disgusting, smelly flakes.
    “Well, technically, it’s your turn for a bet,” I said.
    Sam bit his lip for a second. “Got it! You have to get from one side of the monkey bars to the other and back without falling.”
    I jumped off the bars. “No prob.” I was a bit of a monkey bar expert, to tell the truth. I whipped across the bars and twisted at the last rung to head back. At the last grab, the skin at the base of my fingers started to sting, but it wasn’t too bad. I saw Amanda edging closer from the corner of my eye, probably ready to point and laugh if I fell.
    “Your turn,” I said as I landed. “But I bet you can’t go back and forth twice.”
    “No prob.” And holy moly! Sam whipped from one side to the other in seconds, twisted with this awesome jumpy action and grasped the inside rung with his fingertips. Then he whipped to the end and did it again. Being an absolute show off, he even went an extra run.
    “That was amazing!” I yelled. Sheldon and April had stopped going down the slide to watch, April with her mouth hanging open and Sheldon doing a slow clap.
    Sam gave me his your-turn look, but I ignored it. No way could I follow up that performance. Instead, I pointed to the grassy stretch beside the monkey bars. “Do a cartwheel!” I dared.
    Sam rolled his eyes. “I don’t do cartwheels.”
    Something in the way he said it made it sound like he could do something cooler than cartwheels. “All right,” I said. “Then show me what you can do.”
    Sam smiled and looked around. No one seemed to be paying attention to us. And then, he was flipping. Seriously! It was a cartwheel, but his legs were together. From that, without even hesitating, he did a back flip. For real! And then another one. All of this was in about two seconds flat.
    Amanda, her arms crossed, snapped, “Bet you can’t do it with one hand.”
    Sam smiled, his cheeks pinker than normal, and did the same routine—cartwheel thingy into two back flips. But with only one hand touching the ground. I clapped so hard my hands felt sunburned.
    When he landed, I saw that more kids were watching, even Becky.
    Amanda tried not to smile, but the corner of her mouth was twitching. “No hands,” she challenged.
    He looked so, well, talented. And strong. I noticed that his arms had muscles that I didn’t have. I was pretty sure even sporty guys like Tom and Henry didn’t have strong arms like that. From on top of the new playscape, Tom and Henry glared over at us. I fought the urge to stick out my tongue at them.
    Sam grinned and did a backflip again. Without any hands!
    “Awesome!” I cheered. Everyone clapped and April whistled. This time, Tom and Henry’s mouths hung open.
    “That was so cool,” Amanda whispered as everyone lined up to go back inside after recess.
    “Yeah,” came Henry’s snort. “Hey, Righter, my animal report’s on monkeys. Can I interview you?” Henry rushed to the front of the line as Ms. Drake opened the door, bumping Sam on purpose and making him fall onto his knees. Of course almost everyone laughed.
    I took a long breath from my nose. I was so angry I probably could’ve farted a lollipop. I could hear Sam’s teeth grind, but he was too busy