The Miraculous Makeover of Lizard Flanagan by Carol Gorman

million dollars to play football,” Sam said, grinning. “Besides, Barnhart wouldn’t let a girl on the team, anyway.”
    â€œEven if she was the best player to try out?”
    â€œYeah, but you wouldn’t be, because I’d be the best player to try out!”
    â€œYou wish.”
    â€œOkay, enough,” Mom said, holding up her hands.
    â€œWhat position will you play?” Dad asked.
    â€œMaybe wide receiver,” Sam said. “Coach watches me a lot when we practice passing and receiving.”
    â€œWho’ll quarterback for your first game?” I asked.
    â€œMaybe Al Pickering,” he said. “Or Tom Luther.”
    â€œWhen is it?” Mom asked. “We want to come.”
    Sam pulled a piece of folded paper out of his pocket. “Here’s the schedule.”
    He handed it to Mom, who leaned over and studied the dates with Dad.
    Now was my chance.
    I pulled the dish out of my shirt, cut a huge piece out of my buckwheat cakes and scooped it into the dish.
    I pushed the dish under the table. Bob was sitting in the corner of the dining room. I drummed my fingers on the side of my chair to get his attention.
    Then I looked up. Sam was staring right at me. Uh-oh, I thought.
    Sam started to speak, then closed his mouth. He got a funny look in his eye and gave me a tiny smile.
    Bob trotted over to me and sniffed the cakes. In a minute, he had devoured all of them. He slobbered a little on my bare leg, but that was okay. Better to have prune whip on my leg than in my mouth. Bob trotted back into his corner, licking his chops.
    Sam continued to watch me. “Who’s your locker partner, Lizard?” His voice was super-casual.
    â€œA girl named Ginger Flush,” I said. “She’s a nincompoop.”
    Mom and Dad were still looking over the schedule and murmuring about the dates.
    â€œOther than that,” Sam said, “what’s she like?”
    â€œShe’s stupid,” I said. “Why do you want to know?”
    â€œJust wondered. She talked to me in the hall. She said you two were locker partners.”
    â€œSo why’d you ask?” I said. “By the way, she has a crush on you. She says you’re a hottie.”
    Sam shifted in his chair and looked away for a minute.
    It was fun watching him squirm.
    â€œShe wanted me to put in a good word for her.”
    â€œYeah?” Sam said. He grinned. “Cool.”
    â€œ What? ”
    â€œThat’s cool, she thinks I’m a hottie.”
    â€œAre you nuts?” I said. “Ginger Flush is a grade-A, blue-ribbon airhead!”
    Sam shrugged. “She seems okay to me.”
    Mom turned to us. “Who’s an airhead?”
    Sam glared at me.
    I ignored him. “Sam wants to know about this girl—”
    â€œWhat girl?” Mom asked.
    â€œHere, Bob!” Sam called out. He whistled. “Lizard has a treat for you!”
    Bob came running right to me under the table.
    â€œWhat girl?” Mom asked again. “What are you giving Bob, Lizard?”
    At the same time Sam said, “Never mind,” and I said, “Nothing.”
    Sam and I glowered at each other.
    Truce. We didn’t have to say it out loud, but we both knew it. I wouldn’t tell about Ginger; he wouldn’t tell that I gave my dinner to Bob.
    â€œOh, Lizard,” Mom said, smiling. “You’ve nearly finished your pancakes already! Would you like some more?”
    â€œNo, thank you,” I said politely.
    â€œSam,” she said, looking at his plate, “you’ve got a ways to go.”
    Sam hadn’t even touched his plate.
    He scowled at me, and I smiled back very sweetly.
    â€œYour mom makes the best chocolate cake on the planet,” I said.
    â€œShe sure does,” Zach said.
    We sat on the top step of his back porch in the fading light, devouring humongous slabs of cake and piles of ice cream. My mom would’ve had plenty to say