Free Sammy Keyes and the Skeleton Man by Wendelin Van Draanen Page B

shoes, for one thing.”
    “And she’s got the hots for Jared, for another.” Heather winks at Jared and says, “Not that
that’s
so strange. She just won’t leave him alone.”
    Jared smiles back at her, and Amber’s so back-combedabout
me
that she doesn’t even notice what’s going on right beneath her whiskers.
    I ask, “Seriously?”
    “Seriously. She’s been making harassing phone calls, and from what I understand, they’re pretty embarrassing!”
    Amber shakes her head. “Where does she get the
nerve?
”
    “That’s Sammy for you.”
    My stomach’s churning like a cement truck. It feels sick and heavy, like it’s going to slosh over any minute. And as Heather sets me up, bit by bit, I know that what I’ve got to do is get
away
from her so I can get to work on my plan, but I can’t just leave. I’ve got to stand there and smile while this ball of cement sets up in my stomach.
    I say, “Sounds like you don’t like her very much, either.”
    Heather laughs and says, “What’s there to like? She’s nosy and sneaky, and she thinks she’s
so
smart.” She grins at Amber. “But at least she’s not horning in on
my
boyfriend.”
    Amber stands up. “Can we talk about something else?” She holds out a paw to Jared and says, “I’m ready to dance now.”
    Jared takes her hand but gives Heather a sly little wink as he walks away.
    That about sends Heather into orbit. She grabs me by the arm and shakes me. “Did you see that? Did you see the look he gave me?” She keeps on shaking. “It’s working! It’s working!”
    Well, I knew darn well what was working, but I probably would’ve asked her anyway just to see if she’d tell me or not, only I couldn’t. I was afraid to move, let alone breathe. See, with all that shaking Heather was doing, thecord of the monitor had slipped loose and I could feel it, slithering like a snake down my body.
    I grab my side and say, “Uh, I really need to use the bathroom. Can you tell me where it is?”
    She’s got her eye on Jared. “Oh, sure. It’s down that hall where the towels were. First door on the left.”
    I smile and say, “Thanks,” and then hobble my way over to the bathroom as fast as I can.
    The minute I’m inside I lock the bathroom door and let go of the cord, and—
thunk!
—the big part of the baby monitor falls to the floor. I tuck the thing under my arm, then I check the hallway, and sneak my way down to Heather’s room.
    The light was on, so I clicked it off and peeked out her window to see which way the bedroom faced. I was relieved to see streetlights—at least I wouldn’t have to go snooping in her backyard later.
    I turned the light on again and started searching for a place to plug in the monitor. I decided the only place that would work was under the bed. Trouble is, I couldn’t reach the outlet without crawling under the bed. So there I am, with fifteen princess skirts tangling me up and the scarves from my pointy little hat falling in my face, trying to reach the outlet, when all of a sudden I hear the door open.
    I scrunch the rest of the way under the bed and hold my breath. Then I hear Heather say, “Come on!”
    I can’t see who she’s talking to because I’m surrounded by polyester cowhide, but when I hear this fake baby-girl voice say, “Does she ever come in without knocking?” I know she’s with Monet Jarlsberg.
    Monet sounds like a Barbie doll with a mosquito stuck up her nose. And the fact that she’s Heather’s little pipeline to the cool crowd makes her annoying
and
sneaky. Really, considering how many people Monet’s stabbed in the back, I’m surprised she’s lived as long as she has.
    Anyway, I hear their footsteps getting closer and closer to the bed, and all of a sudden Heather is groping around
under
the bed, saying, “Nah. Anyway, she’s too busy mixing up more punch.”
    Now my heart’s having a banging good time with my chest, and I’m doing my best to inch away from Heather’s hand when