Josh walked up the sidewalk to Alison’s house, shaking his head. He just couldn’t believe that she had won the go-cart. He must’ve filled out at least fifty of those entry blanks down at the store. Alison watched him from the porch, arms crossed.

“Hey, Alison. Um, I heard you won the contest. Can I have a ride sometime?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me! After you put that dead mouse in my locker? No way.”

“Come on, Alison,” Josh protested. “That was last year.”

“Get lost, dork.” She whirled and went inside, door slamming behind her.

Crumb! Now what was he going to do? He spent a sleepless night wracking his brain for ways to outsmart Miss Smarty-Pants Allison, and finally, as the sky began to brighten, it came to him. Lying there in bed, Josh laughed at the craziness of the idea, yet he was positive Alison would go for it. She’d never pass up a chance to make him look stupid.

Grinning, Josh leaped out of bed and threw on his clothes. After a quick breakfast of dry cereal and milk straight from the jug, he burst outside, letting the screen door slam behind him. Two minutes later he stood on Alison’s porch.

“Do you know what time it is, Josh?” Alison’s mother asked sleepily through the screen door.

“I know it’s early, Mrs. Adams, but I really need to talk to Alison. Just for a minute. Please?” He gave her his most winning smile, and it worked.

When Alison came to the door her face was a thundercloud. “What do you want?” she demanded.

“I’ve got an idea,” Josh began.

“Congratulations. Now go tell somebody who cares.” She shook her head at him and moved away from the screen.

“It’s about the go-cart.”

“What about my go-cart? You better not touch it.” Alison scowled at him.

Josh spoke fast, before she could turn away again. “If I make you laugh, can I drive it?”

“You are making absolutely no sense, Josh Bichman.”

“Like a contest, Alison. If I make you laugh, I get to drive the go-cart. Deal?”
Please, please, please, he begged silently.

Alison tilted her head and studied him. “I guess,” she said at last. “But it’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Come on over after lunch.” Cool!

Josh spent the rest of the morning watching a movie. He was confident he could make Alison laugh with no problem. Finally it was time to go. He put on his lucky T-shirt and left the house.

But when he got to Alison’s house he was shocked to see most of his classmates gathered in the back yard. Alison slipped up behind him and spoke softly in his ear.

“Ready, Josh? Your audience is waiting.”

“What is everybody doing here?” he asked, voice shrill.

She snickered. “What’s a contest without an audience? You don’t mind do you?”

“Of course not,” he said quickly, following her to the back yard.

“Well, then, make me laugh, dork.” Alison made her way through the crowd to a lawn chair that had been draped with a colorful sheet. She seated herself regally as if on a throne and crossed her arms.

“Let the contest begin,” she pronounced, and a couple kids giggled.

This was not going like he’d planned at all. It was just supposed to be the two of them, not the whole neighborhood!

“Come on, funny man,” a fat-faced kid called out.

“Okay, okay.” Josh took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Hi, my name is Josh,” he began in a silly voice. “My favorite color is clear. My dog’s name is Stay. Here, Stay! Here, Stay!” There were a few laughs, but Alison just stared off into space, looking bored.

“Okay, how about this one? What has one horn and gives milk?”

“That’s easy,” the fat kid shouted. “A milk truck.”

A trickle of sweat crawled between Josh’s shoulder blades. “What would you get if you crossed a nuclear scientist with a creepy clan?” He paused and the kids in the crowd scratched their heads. “The Atoms family!”

There were groans, and Alison smirked. “This is ridiculous.”

Panic seized Josh. Desperate, he threw himself to one knee in front of her and clasped his hands to his chest. “Oh, Alison,” he said mournfully. “Thy beauty is as a rose in the middle of summer. Thy lips, how they pooch.” Someone snickered and Alison looked startled, then she blushed.

“And thy eyes are muddy pools of sludge beside the road. Oh, Alison, how thy name rings in my ears like the clash of cymbals.” Josh was pleased to see her biting her lip and laid it on thick.

“I adore thee, thou wondrous example of girly beauty, and long to kiss thy slender hand. Oh, love of my life, say you’ll be mine.”

He stared up into her eyes, an idiotic grin on his face, and after a minute she burst out laughing. Victory!

“You are such a dork, Josh,” she said, trying to stop giggling.

Josh climbed proudly to his feet. “What about that ride?”

Alison nodded, smile gone. “Of course. A deal’s a deal.” She led him around to the front of her house into the garage. His knees wobbled. There the go-cart sat, black and cool-looking, just waiting for him.

“But before you get that ride, there’s something I want to know.” Alison put her hands on her hips and stared hard at him. “Did you really mean all that stuff about me being beautiful and all?”

Josh blinked. How was he supposed to answer that? If he said no, she’d probably knock his block off. But on the other hand, if he said yes, he’d have a girlfriend. Yuck! The thought made his skin crawl. Getting punched hardly appealed either. She hit really hard. He opened his mouth, still unsure of what to say.

Alison snorted. “Cause you better not. You’re not my type at all, Joshua Bichman.” She frowned at him again and then ran inside her house.

Josh sagged with relief. Whew! That was close. Nothing had changed, he was safe. Smiling again, he climbed into the go-cart and happily turned the key.

The End

W.S. Ribelin lives and writes in West Central Illinois where her four kids and four dogs keep her very busy. She has had a few stories published in small online magazines, and her biggest dream is to publish a novel. When she isn’t busy with all of her critters, she enjoys reading, writing, gardening and baking. Read more of here writing at: www.writing.com/authors/wsrib.

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