To be hit by a snowball from behind was no fun. To be hit by RJ Blaser? Well, that was

different. I felt kind of honored, I had noticed RJ around school (who hadn't?), but this was the first time he had ever looked me in the eye.

"That's okay," I squeaked. "It's . . . soft . . ."

He looked confused. "Your shoulder?"

Claudia rolled her eyes. "No, the snow."

"It wasn't hard enough to hurt," I quickly added. "Really."

We stared at each other, smiling and saying nothing. Claudia brushed off the back of my corduroys with sharp, strong swipes.

"Um, my name is RJ," he said.

"I know," I replied without thinking. "I mean, I went to a basketball game last week and they were calling out your name over the loudspeaker a lot."

RJ's face brightened. "Was that the 64-59 over Mercer or the 70-60 over Lawrenceville?"

"The ... uh ... Mercer one, I think."

"Yeah. I scored twenty-seven points and collected five fouls."

Huh? I thought he said fowls, and I couldn't remember any chickens running around the basketball court. But I said, "Wow," because I could tell I was supposed to be impressed.

"So that's why they were calling my name," RJ added. Then he pointed toward the school

and said, "That's Marty Bukowski. You probably heard his name, too. He's the one I was throwing the snowball at."

I looked across the lawn and recognized Marty. He was with Malik Jaffrey and Wayne McConville, two other drop-dead cute basketball stars. With them were four of the most popular girls in the school: Darcy Redmond, Sheila McGregor, Margie Greene, and Penny Weller — all cheerleaders.

"I guess you better stick to basketballs, huh?" Claudia piped up.

RJ gave her a blank look. "Say what?"

"You know, instead of snowballs?" Claudia glanced at me warily. She must have thought she was intruding on something, because she started backing away. "Just a joke. Uh, I better get going. I have some questions for my homeroom teacher. See you later."