Dance with Me

parts?” Pete asked her.
She waved her hand at Pete. “Only if something happens to us, silly!
Which obviously we don’t want. But if it did, we could actually help other

---

people who are sick and in need of a new heart or a kidney. We could save
someone’s life. We’d be heroes.”
“We’d be dead heroes,” Chuck said.
She laughed. “Oh, Chuckles, you make me laugh!”
“Yeah, 
Chuckles
, you’re a riot,” Pete said, deadpan.
Chuck scrunched up his face. “Hey, Mom, you know what Pete did at the
pizza place?”
Pete narrowed his eyes at Chuck. He knew the little brat couldn’t keep
his mouth shut.
“What did he do?”
“He drank 
way
too much soda.” Chuck smiled, flashing his railroad
tracks.
Mom sighed. “Pete, come on. I told you what all that soda does to your
teeth.”
Pete just looked back at his mom. What was with her lately? Last month
she’d started to see someone who called herself a “life coach.” Then his
mom had started yoga, chopped her long hair off, and gone on some weird
juice cleanse. She’d also gathered a bunch of their stuff and given it away to
charity. Now … she wanted to donate their 
body parts
?
“Here, read the flyer, Pete,” Mom said. “It’ll convince you, for sure.”
Pete grabbed the paper his mom shoved under his nose. The list of organ
donations was pretty long: Bones, heart, kidney, liver, pancreas, skin,
intestine, eyeballs …
Eyeballs.
You can be a pirate, but first you’ll have to lose an eye and an arm!
Yarg!
Pete flashed back to Foxy. He imagined Foxy suddenly walking off the
stage and stalking toward him with his big, sharp hook. His mechanical feet
scraping across the floor.
Pete’s mashed potatoes did a slow roll in his stomach, and he suddenly
felt light-headed. He blinked the image away. “What a dumb idea, Mom.”
“Pete, it’s not dumb. And it hurts my feelings that you think that.”
Yeah, Mom was into expressing her feelings lately, too. He shoved his
chair away from the table and stood up as his face flashed cold, then hot.
“I’m not doing it, Mom.”
“Pete.”

---

“I don’t want to talk about it. I’m going to bed.” Pete walked out of the
dining room.
“What happened?” he heard his mom ask.
Chuck sighed. “Puberty.”
“Hurry up, Pete!”
The next morning, Chuck banged on the bathroom door. If Pete didn’t
get out soon, Chuck would be late for the bus to W. H. Jameson Middle
School. If he missed the bus, then he’d have to ride his bike five miles to
school and his mom would freak out over his going alone. She was
paranoid something would happen if Pete wasn’t with him, which he didn’t
understand, since he was almost twelve! (Well, eleven and a half.) Lots of
his friends were left by themselves all the time, but not Chuck. Pete always
said it was because Chuck was the baby and their mom couldn’t stop
thinking of him that way.
He heard Pete heave into the toilet and Chuck stepped back and cringed.
Pete was sick, he figured. Chuck’s lip curled a little. 
That’s what he
deserves for trying to scare me yesterday.
Then he let that thought go as
Pete heaved again, stepping back and leaning against the wall to wait.
Chuck knew Dad’s leaving had changed everyone. Pete was angry all the
time. Mom kept searching for new things to make her happy. As for
himself? He just tried to keep busy. He liked to hang out with his friends, he
liked to play online video games, and he was pretty interested in puzzles.
Yeah, middle school sucked, but going to school was just a part of life
you had to get through. Every once in a while, he felt challenged by a
project, then he’d complete it and get bored again until something else
caught his interest. He got why Pete hated him half the time, because Mom
made Pete watch over him so much. He tried not to be annoying. But
everything that came out of his mouth seemed to annoy Pete. Maybe it was
just like that with all brothers? Chuck didn’t know because he didn’t have
another brother to compare to.
The toilet flushed. A minute later, Pete swung open the door. A wave of
serious stink wafted at Chuck and he waved a hand in front of his nose. Pete
didn’t look so good. His face was so pale his freckles stood out like tiny
bugs on his cheeks. His dark hair stuck up in different directions like he’d

---

jammed his finger in a socket and shocked himself, and there were dark
circles under his eyes.
“Geez, Pete, what’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing,” Pete spat out. “Something didn’t agree with me. Probably
something from that stupid Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza.”
Chuck didn’t think so. “Do you want me to call Mom?”
Pete shoved him aside. “No, I’m not a little baby like you, Chuck the
Chump.”
Chuck felt his shoulders stiffen. He hated that stupid nickname.
“Whatever,” he mumbled. He slammed and locked the bathroom door
behind him.
Pete chugged an energy drink with triple caffeine while running to his bio
class, but he still felt drained and exhausted. He’d had some pretty crazy
dreams last night. He couldn’t remember much, only that there had been all
this blood. It was everywhere, pouring all over him, down his face and over
his chest and arms. When he’d jerked awake, his blankets were tangled
around his body. He’d fallen to the floor trying to unwind the blankets just
so he could rush to the bathroom to blow chunks.
He shivered just thinking about it, but he rolled his shoulders and shoved
that not-so-fun memory away. He probably should have stayed home, but
calling his mom at work would have freaked her out and she’d be asking
him a million questions. He’d decided just to get through the day somehow.
He loped into his classroom five minutes after the bell.
“Mr. Dinglewood, you are late,” droned Mr. Watson in a bored voice.
“Note?”
Pete snatched off his hat and shook his head in a negative. He took an
empty stool at the workstation in the far back, next to a kid in a black
leather jacket and purple hair. Pete zipped his hat into his pack and set it on
the floor, then wiped some sweat off his forehead. He shifted awkwardly on
the stool. Why couldn’t he seem to keep still?
“As I was saying, class, we will be dissecting a frog today,” said Mr.
Watson. “You have all been quizzed on the safety rules for the tools and
procedure. You will work as a team with your partner to fill out the lab
sheet. I expect you all to be mature young people. I know that will be hard

---

for some of you, but there is no funny business here or you will fail. You do
not want to fail. You have thirty minutes starting now.”
When they both turned toward the dead frog sprawled out in front of
them, Leather Jacket Guy leaned forward. “Dude … what’s the matter with
you?”
Pete shook his head. “Nothing.”
Leather Jacket Guy gave him a