I'm Going to Be Famous Read Free Page B

again.
    â€œOf course I do, dummy,” he says. “That’s what I’ve been talking about. Hand me that towel, will you? I’ve got to get myself beautiful for tonight. I think I’m in love.”
    John turned seventeen last week. Mom and Dad must have given him a head the size of a watermelon for his birthday. He thinks he’s so handsome that Michelle Angier must believe he hung the moon in the sky. Someday, I’m going to ask her what she sees in him. Besides, that is, his two new pimples.
    â€œOK, John, it’s a bet,” I say. “An extra-large supreme pizza for you if I lose, and one for me if I win. Let’s shake on it.”
    He grins. “It’s a bet, little brother. You’ve got three weeks to get ready. I’ll mark September twenty-fourth on my calendar.”
    September 24. I can taste that pizza now.
    â€œHey, you guys, open up! I need some water for my goldfish bowl. Louise and Lionel are swimming around in Dad’s coffee cup.”
    It’s Kerry, our wonderful sister.
    â€œBeat it, Kerry,” John says. “Arlo and I are having a man-to-man talk.”
    â€œPig feathers, John. You’ve been talking about the bet.”
    â€œHow did you know, Kerry?” I ask. “You been spying again?”
    Leave it to Kerry to spy on a private conversation. She must be hiding superbionic ears underneath all that frizzy red hair of hers.
    She giggles. “Well, I couldn’t help but hear. This door is awfully thin. They don’t make bathroom doors like they used to, you know.”
    â€œThey don’t make sisters like they used to either, do they, Arlo?” John asks.
    For once he’s right.
    â€œAw … c’mon, you guys,” she begs, “let me in. Louise and Lionel might die if they don’t get fresh water. Besides, I need to talk about our bet, too. I thought you might want to bet a few banana splits, Arlo.”
    Banana splits. Now she’s talking. I love banana splits.
    â€œHow many, Kerry?” I ask.
    â€œI don’t know. How about six?”
    Six. I can taste them now. Rich, smooth ice cream, luscious syrup, whipped cream, nuts, mint sprinkles, and a cherry all piled on top of a wonderful ripe banana. Wow.
    â€œIs it a bet, Arlo?” she asks, still talking through the door.
    How can I resist?
    â€œIt’s a bet, Kerry,” I answer.
    I might even eat them all at once. I might even …
    â€œArlo!” Kerry shouts.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œAren’t you going to open the door so we can shake on it?”
    I look at John and shrug. “OK, come on in. You can get some water for Louise and Lionel and watch John get ready for his date, too.”
    John has finished shaving and is now applying large amounts of Acnehide to his face. I call it “pimple goop.” He fights a never-ending battle with the evil pimple forces of the deep. I think they live in his closet and sneak out and attack when he’s asleep.
    Next he’ll put on enough deodorant to make my dead tennis shoes smell like perfume. I’ve seen this performance before. I think this is Kerry’s first time. She’s watching intently.
    After the deodorant comes the mouthwash. John gargles so hard that little droplets come spraying out of his mouth and splatter on the mirror. I’ll have to brush my teeth while looking at myself through dried gargle spots.
    And last, but not least, comes the men’s cologne. John is sure that smelling like something other than himself is the secret to a successful date. He then carefully brushes his hair, trying to make sure every strand is in place, and— presto —John Moore, ace lady’s man, is ready.
    He turns and looks at Kerry and me. A big smile is on his face. “What do you think? Can Michelle resist this handsome guy?”
    Answering that question truthfully could get a little brother or sister in trouble fast. I’m still not sure what