Class Favorite by Taylor Morris Page A

sister had sat on me and farted, or asked me to hang out in her room, then shut the door in my face. “Believe me, I’d rather be an only child any day.”
    â€œYou only say that because you don’t know what it’s like to be alone.”
    â€œI guess.” I thought for a moment. Then I said, “And you’re only saying so because you don’t know otherwise.”
    She laughed and said, “Okay. How about this: When we hang out, you can pretend like you’re an only child and I’ll pretend that you’re my little sister. I can help you with things like getting hooked up with Jason Andersen and making Class Favorite. What do you say?”
    She looked at me with a hopeful gleam in her eyes. Maybe it was completely horrible being an only child. Sure, I hated Elisabeth and all that stuff, but we did play together when we were kids. She had even given me some advice over the years.
    â€œYeah,” I said. “Sounds cool.”
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    Having a goal seemed like the productive thing to do. So, as soon as I got home, I decided to start right in on my Class Favorite–nominee quest before I could even think about what I was doing.
    I saw Elisabeth sitting on her bed through her half-open door, her long, tanned legs bent as she painted her toenails cotton candy pink. I stuck my head through the door and asked, “Can I come in?”
    She glanced up. “I guess.”
    Elisabeth’s room was always spotless, despite being cluttered with running trophies. She even made her bed in the mornings without Mom telling her to. At the edge of her bed was a copy of Running magazine, her biology textbook, a red folder, and her diary. She had a copy of Us Weekly under her foot to keep any nail polish from getting on her comforter.
    I sat on the floor facing her, my back up against the wall next to her tennis shoes, my legs straight out in front of me.
    â€œYou’re so lucky Mom doesn’t humiliate you,” I began, referring to the flowers.
    â€œShe didn’t mean to,” she said. It was just like her to be the good daughter, even when Mom wasn’t around to notice.
    â€œIt’s so embarrassing,” I said. “I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it over at your school.”
    â€œI can’t believe you’re still worrying about that. Listen.”She screwed the cap back on the polish and set it on her nightstand. “I totally agree that what happened on Friday was humiliating, but it wasn’t Mom’s fault—she was just trying to be nice. And you said you already got teased for it. I’m sure everyone’s moved on from it by now. You should too.”
    â€œMaybe,” I said. “I just wish I knew how everyone found out.” I looked up at my sister and asked, “A school administrator could get fired for telling stuff about a student, right?”
    â€œWhat are you talking about?”
    â€œNever mind.”
    Elisabeth leaned back against her headboard, gave me a look, and said, “Sara, if you want something, just ask.”
    â€œWell, I was wondering if you’d do me a favor.”
    â€œObviously.”
    â€œI’m just trying to think of ways to make my life a little easier. So I was just wondering, you know, since you’re such good friends with Coach Eckels, and since he’s the guys’ basketball coach and you’re so close to him and all, will you please, next time you see him, ask him if I can be a stat girl? Please? ”
    â€œWhy don’t you ask him yourself?”
    â€œBecause he likes you.”
    She picked up a bottle of clear polish and rhythmically slapped it on her palm.
    â€œWhy didn’t you tell me you started your period?” she suddenly asked.
    â€œWhy did you have to out me to Mom about it?” I retorted.
    â€œSara, you make too big a deal of things.”
    â€œOh, right. Like having guys offer me a tampon is no big deal.” I felt