Prank List by Anna Staniszewski Page A

my pastry class I was telling you about? He’s here.” I watch as Whit and a little kid who could be his brother get in line to buy their ice cream. I quickly pull Evan away so that Whit won’t spot us.
    â€œWhy are we hiding?” says Evan as I drag him behind one of the plastic cows.
    â€œI don’t want him to see us.” It’s hard enough to have a normal conversation with Whit in pastry class. Seeing him out of context will make things ten times more awkward.
    â€œWhat’s the big deal? He’s not going to start throwing things, is he?”
    â€œProbably not,” I admit. “But…” I realize that Evan wouldn’t understand. He’s never been an outcast. He’s never had to deal with people laughing at him for doing and saying the wrong thing all the time. “I’d just rather not see him,” I say finally.
    Evan shrugs, and I can tell he’s trying to be understanding. Maybe I’m overreacting about the whole Whit thing, but before I can apologize, Evan says: “Do you want me to ride back to your house with you?”
    â€œOh. Sure.” I guess that means our date is over.
    â€¢â€¢â€¢
    When Evan and I get to my house, I slam on the brakes at the sight of my mom standing outside with a balding man who’s holding a clipboard. They’re both staring up at the roof, and I can hear him asking questions about the last time the shingles were replaced.
    Oh no. This must be the real-estate agent. I was hoping he’d be gone by the time I got back.
    Evan stops his bike next to me. “Are you okay?” he asks.
    â€œNo,” I whisper, wondering if maybe I can ride off before my mom spots me.
    â€œRachel!” Mom calls from the driveway. “Come meet Mr. Colby!”
    Too late.
    I hop off my bike and turn to Evan, not sure what to say. Ever since we left Moo Pies, he’s been weirdly quiet.
    â€œThanks for the ice cream,” I say. “And for getting me out of the house with all that going on.” I nod over my shoulder to where I can hear Mom rattling off the names of all the different bushes she’s planted in the front yard.
    â€œAnytime,” Evan says, flashing a grin. “Whenever you need a break from evil real-estate people, just say the word.”
    My stomach relaxes. Maybe things between us are okay after all. I’m probably stressing over nothing. I glance over to make sure my mom isn’t watching, and then I lean in and give Evan a quick, one-armed hug.
    â€œThank you,” I whisper in his ear. Then, with my face burning at about a million degrees, I hurry away.
    As I walk my bike into the driveway, Mom introduces me to Mr. Colby and lists all the great things he’s been saying about the house. I smile and nod, pretending to listen, but all I can do is replay the feeling of Evan’s arms around me. As we go back inside, with Mr. Colby commenting on how well-maintained our brick walkway is, I don’t think my feet touch the ground even once.

Chapter 14
    Marisol and I spend most of the day on Thursday planning for the Bake-Off. For someone who practically prides herself on not having a lot of friends, Marisol was able to get a surprising number of people to sign up. We have volunteers doing sets and lights for the fashion show, and even a few people in charge of hair and makeup.
    Marisol has already started sewing adorable aprons for everyone to wear in the show.
    â€œCherie and I were talking yesterday,” Marisol chatters on, “and she said that if people like the aprons, Chef Ryan might even start selling them in his bakery. Can you believe it?”
    â€œWow, that’s great!”
    â€œI never thought aprons would be my thing, but fashion is fashion, right? And if even one person besides me wants to wear my designs, I’d say that’s a pretty big win.”
    â€œAre you kidding? Pretty soon, Aprons by Marisol will be a chain of stores all