Weird Girl and What's His Name by Meagan Brothers

my towel. I wasn’t sure what this guy wanted from me. Then I remembered Sexy Seth’s mom telling him to get me on the team.
    â€œI go about two-eighty,” I told him finally.
    â€œI thought so. I saw you running on the treadmill a little earlier. How long have you been working out here?”
    â€œSince last fall, I guess.”
    â€œYou gonna come out for the team?”
    â€œThe football team? Not planning on it, no.”
    â€œWhy not? Tryouts are coming up.”
    â€œI thought you guys didn’t play again till next fall.” I knew I was a big guy, but playing football had never occurred to me. Partly because, unlike pretty much every other male in America, I didn’t give a rat’s ass about football. But also because being a big fat guy wasn’t exactly something I wanted to draw everyone’s attention to. I hadn’t bothered to attempt playing any sport since sixth grade, when our neighbor convinced my mom to sign me up for community-league soccer. Because it would be good for me. I spent most of the time riding the pine, but I got a trophy because everyone got a trophy. For being such good sports.
    â€œWe start practicing in the summer. Whip you guys’ butts into shape.” Morris winked at me. I wondered if Morris was his first name or his last. I thought about the way he introduced himself. Sorry, I’m Morris. It was almost like one of those word tricks, where it reads the same backwards and forward. Like Madam, I’m Adam. What do they call those? Anagrams? Palindromes? Lula would know. I’d have to ask her later.
    â€œYou ever play football?” Morris eyed me up and down again. “Pop Warner? Mighty Mite?”
    â€œI played soccer one year. Community league.” I could tell he was nonplussed.
    â€œYou should try out anyway,” Morris said. “Can’t hurt. Come by my office sometime. We need some big fellas like you. Fresh blood on the offensive line.”
    Fresh blood.
    â€œSee you ’round.” Morris winked at me again. Was he just messing with me? Was this a trick? I thought about Lula, doing her best Mrs. Lidell Withering Stare. I wanted to say something like I bet you’d like to whip my butt into shape. Or I’ve got an offensive line for you. And flip him the bird. But instead I threw the towel over my shoulder and headed over to the pull-up bar. The one I was always afraid I would rip out of the wall. Because I was still just a lardass, any way you look at it.
    L ULA COULDN ’ T STOP FUSSING WITH HER hair. I told her I’d help her with it, but she was driving me nuts. And making me late.
    â€œIs it getting too dark? I don’t want it to be too brunette.”
    â€œIt won’t be. It’s Natural Reddish Blond.” Clairol Nice ’n Easy, number 108. Lula was going from her usual dirty-blond color to Scully Red. Even though I thought her original color was really beautiful. And Gillian Anderson’s hair isn’t really red, anyway. Gillian Anderson being the actress who plays Special Agent Dana Scully on The X-Files, of course. I even emailed Lula a picture of Gillian Anderson outside of some premiere or something, and her natural color is almost exactly the same as Lula’s. Maybe a shade lighter. But Lula said she probably dyed it that color so that she wouldn’t get bothered on the street all the time by crazed Philes. Lula wanted Scully Red, so that’s what she was getting.
    â€œI think it’s time.” She kept poking at the cotton around her ears.
    â€œTwo more minutes.” I checked my watch. Tick, tick. Come on. . . .
    â€œThanks for letting me do this over here, by the way,” Lula said. “Janet would freak if I stained her white tiles.”
    â€œNo sweat.” My mother wouldn’t notice if we painted the whole bathroom red. Lula managed to sit quietly on the folding stepstool for the next minute and a half. Finally, I took my