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through my window。 I spotted her in the nick of time
and dove under my bed； but man； that right there tells you something about Juli Baker。 She's
got no concept of personal space。 No respect for
privacy。 The world is her playground； and watch out below — Juli's on the slide！
Lucky for me； my dad was willing to run block。 And he did it over and over again。 He told her
I was busy or sleeping or just plain gone。 He was a
lifesaver。
My sister； on the other hand； tried to sabotage me any chance she got。 Lyta's like that。
She's four years older than me； and buddy； I've learned
from watching her how not to run your life。 She's got ANTAGONIZE written all over her。 Just
look at her — not cross…eyed or with your tongue sticking
out or anything — just look at her and you've started an argument。
I used to knock…down…drag…out with her； but it's just not worth it。 Girls don't fight fair。 They pull
your hair and gouge you and pinch you； then they run
off gasping to mommy when you try and defend yourself with a fist。 Then you get locked into
time…out； and for what？ No； my friend； the secret is；
don't snap at the bait。 Let it dangle。 Swim around it。 Laugh it off。 After a while they'll give up
and try to lure someone else。
At least that's the way it is with Lyta。 And the bonus of having her as a pain…in…the…rear
sister was figuring out that this method works on
everyone。 Teachers； jerks at school； even Mom and Dad。 Seriously。 There's no winning
arguments with your parents； so why get all pumped up over
them？ It is way better to dive down and get out of the way than it is to get clobbered by some
parental tidal wave。
The funny thing is； Lyta's still clueless when it es to dealing with Mom and Dad。 She
goes straight into thrash mode and is too busy
drowning in the argument to take a deep breath and dive for calmer water。
And she thinks I'm stupid。
……… Page 5………
Anyway； true to form； Lyta tried to bait me with Juli those first few days。 She even snuck
her past Dad once and marched her all around the
house； hunting me down。 I wedged myself up on the top shelf of my closet； and lucky for me；
neither of them looked up。 A few minutes later I heard
Dad yell at Juli to get off the antique furniture； and once again； she got booted。
I don't think I went outside that whole first week。 I helped unpack stuff and watched TV and
just kind of hung around while my mom and dad
arranged and rearranged the furniture； debating whether Empire settees and French Rococo
tables should even be put in the same room。
So believe me； I was dying to go outside。 But every time I checked through the window； I
could see Juli showing off in her yard。 She'd be heading
a soccer ball or doing high kicks with it or dribbling it up and down their driveway。 And when
she wasn't busy showing off； she'd just sit on the curb
with the ball between her feet； staring at our house。
My mom didn't understand why it was so awful that “that cute little girl” had held my hand。
She thought I should make friends with her。 “I thought
you liked soccer； honey。 Why don't you go out there and kick the ball around？”
Because I didn't want to be kicked around； that's why。 And although I couldn't say it like that
at the time； I still had enough sense at age seven and
a half to know that Juli Baker was dangerous。
Unavoidably dangerous； as it turns out。 The minute I walked into Mrs。 Yelson's second…grade
classroom； I was dead meat。 “Bryce！” Juli squeals。
“You're here。” Then she charges across the room and tackles me。
Mrs。 Yelson tried to explain this attack away as a “wele hug；” but man； that was no hug。
That was a front…line； take…'em…down tackle。 And even
though I shook her off； it was too late。 I was branded for life。 Everyone jeered； “Where's your
girl friend； Bryce？” “Are you married yet； Bryce？” And
then when she chased me around at recess and tried to lay kisses on me； the whole school
started singing； “Bryce and Juli sitting in a tree； K…I…S…SI…
N…G…”
My first year in town was a disaster。
Third grade wasn't much better。 She was still hot on my trail every time I turned around。
Same with fourth。 But then in fifth grade I took action。
It started out slow — one of those Nah…that's…not…right ideas you get and forget。 But the more
I played with the idea； the more I thought； What
better way to ward Juli off？ What better way to say to her； “Juli； you are not my type”？
And so； my friend； I hatched the plan。
I asked Shelly Stalls out。
To fully appreciate the brilliance of this； you have to understand that Juli hates Shelly Stalls。
She always has； though it beats me why。 Shelly's nice
and she's friendly and she's got a lot of hair。 What's not to like？ But Juli hated her； and I was
going to make this little gem of knowledge the solution
to my problem。
What I was thinking was that Shelly would eat lunch at our table and maybe walk around a
little with me。 That way； anytime Juli was around； all I'd
have to do was hang a little closer to Shelly and things would just naturally take care of
themselves。 What happened； though； is that Shelly took
things way too seriously。 She went around telling everybody — including Juli — that we were
in love。
In no time Juli and Shelly got into some kind of catfight； and while Shelly was recovering from
that； my supposed friend Garrett — who had been
totally behind this plan — told her what I was up to。 He's always denied it； but I've since
learned that his code of honor is easily corrupted by weepy
females。
……… Page 6………
That afternoon the principal tried cross…examining me； but I wouldn't cop to anything。 I just
kept telling her that I was sorry and that I really didn't
understand what had happened。 Finally she let me go。
Shelly cried for days and followed me around school sniffling and making me feel like a real
jerk； which was even worse than having Juli as a
shadow。
Everything blew over at the one…week mark； though； when Shelly officially dumped me and
started going out with Kyle Larsen。 Then Juli started
up with the goo…goo eyes again； and I was back to square one。
Now； in sixth grade things changed； though whether they improved is hard to say。 I don't
remember Juli actually chasing me in the sixth grade。 But
I do remember her sniffing me。
Yes； my friend； I said sniffing。
And you can blame that on our teacher； Mr。 Mertins。 He stuck Juli to me like glue。 Mr。
Mertins has got some kind of doctorate in seating
arrangements or something； because he analyzed and scrutinized and practically baptized
the seats we had to sit in。 And of course he decided to
seat Juli right next to me。
Juli Baker is the kind of annoying person who makes a point of letting you know she's smart。
Her hand is the first one up； her answers are usually
plete dissertations； her