and the chips from my hands. âThanks!â
âNooo,â I said. âThose were mine, and I hadnât offered them to you.â
âWell, that makes you a rude host, doesnât it?â he replied.
In response I snatched the soda back and after a brief struggle, the chips, too.
âI didnât want them anymore, anyway,â he said with a disdainful sniff at the wrinkled bag. âTheyâre all broken now.â
âBetter the chips than your nose,â I mumbled.
âWhat?â
âBetter be hip like the bros!â I said with a smile.
Ryan narrowed his eyes. âAnyway . . . whatâs next?â
I opened the chip bag. âWould you like some Doritos?â
Ryan peered in at the crumbled contents.âYou mean Dorito dust?â
I raised an eyebrow, but before I could say a word, he pasted on a smile.
âI mean, Iâd love some.â
I tried to pour them into his palm, but Ryan plunged his entire fist into the bag. When he tried to withdraw his hand, his sleeve got caught. Instead of gently freeing himself from the bag, Ryan shook his arm up and down, pieces of tortilla chip flying everywhere.
At least Berkeleyâs party would have entertainment.
After I cleaned up the snack debris, we tried more polite conversation.
âPeople love to talk about themselves,â I said. âAnd they love to hear their own name. So ask them questions about their lives and try to use their name a lot.â
Ryan nodded. âSo, Tim, whatâs Timâs favorite sport, Tim?â
I frowned. âThat might be overkill.â
âRyan is sorry,â he said.
I closed my eyes. âWhy are you using your own name?â
âBecause youâre right. I like the sound of it.â He smiled.
By the time Uncle Theo came to pick me up, I kind of wanted to shake Ryan like a bag of Doritos. Our last lesson for the evening was how to accept and give compliments.
âI like your shirt,â I told him. âNow you say something nice about me.â
âYouâre smart to like this shirt,â he replied.
I stared at him. âTry again.â
Ryan squinted and rubbed his temples. âHmmm.â
âIt is not that hard to come up with something nice about me,â I told him.
Ryan snapped his fingers. âYouâre overly optimistic!â
I sighed and hung my head. I couldnât get out to the car fast enough.
âHow was your project?â asked Uncle Theo.
âAll Iâm gonna say is that the payoff had better be worth it,â I said, buckling myself into the backseat of his car. âHow was practice?â
âWe learned a new dance today!â Gabby said, glancing back at me from the front seat. âI think youâll pick it up pretty quick, though.â
Uncle Theo nodded. âIf we need to, we can stay a little longer at practice tomorrow.â
I winced. âActually, I have to work on this project again.â
âOh,â said Uncle Theo. Then he fell silent.
âI donât like it either, believe me,â I told him. âItâs just going to take more work than I expected.â
A lot more work. On Tuesday, Ryan seemed to have forgotten everything Iâd taught him the day before, so I spent half an hour reviewingit . . . this time with imaginary chips. Then we sat in the media room and I made him watch a video of some of the classiest, sophisticated TV and movie characters I could think of.
âLook at the way James Bond moves,â I said. âHeâs got confidence.â
âHeâs got a watch that shoots laser beams,â said Ryan. âWhat guy wouldnât be confident with something like that?â
âOkay, so pretend youâre wearing that, then,â I said, nudging Ryan to his feet. âAnd walk across the room.â
Ryan stood and instantly dropped into a squat, arm held straight out in front of him.
â What are you doing?â