Free Crimes of the Sarahs by Kristen Tracy Page A

really make my essay stand out to say that I visited terminally ill people with my shelter-adopted Lab, John Glenn.”
    “It’s pure genius.”
    Awkward pause. I think I hear her yawn.
    “I’ve missed you guys.”
    “I thought of what we need to do,” Sarah A says.
    “You did?”
    “Let’s face reality. The guy phase is going to be a huge transition. And then there’s college. We’ve all got to remain completely committed for the Sarahs to survive.”
    “I believe you,” I say.
    “Because senior year is when it all happens. The applications. The campus tours. The decisions. I mean, getting into U of M isn’t going to be a cakewalk. And we’ll each be deep in the throes of a successful relationship, which will be a complete time-suck. We’ve got to work hard and be on the same page.”
    “I look forward to the time-suck. And give me the page number and I’m there.”
    “Yeah. I’m just not sure.”
    “What can I do to make you sure?”
    “Compete in the challenge.”
    “The challenge?” My mind flashes back to what happened to Sarah Dancer. I’m so screwed. I have weak ankles.
    “All the other Sarahs, including myself, are doing something to prove our commitment. We’re meeting at my house tonight.”
    “I’m there.” What a relief. The challenge isn’t what I thought it was. I’m not going to have to jump off anybody’s garage. At least not for the sake of demonstrating team loyalty.
    “You have the rest of the day to do something important. Something that demonstrates your commitment to us. The Sarah who completes the least impressive act is going to be voted out.”
    “Really?”
    “Really.”
    “What is everybody else doing?”
    “I’m not going to tell you that. But Sarah T, you need to aim high.”
    I’m almost ready to hang up because I think our conversation is over when I hear screaming on the other end of the line.
    “My brother is being such a jackass. If he touches me again I might have to call the police.”
    “Are you talking to me?” I ask.
    “Of course I’m talking to you. Because I haven’t spoken to Vance in over a year. Because he’s crazy. And I don’t indulge crazy people in conversation.”
    “Right,” I say.
    “Because crazy people should learn how to not be crazy anymore, so that I can have a normal life again,” Sarah A says.
    “I hear you,” I say. “Hey, what time tonight?”
    “Six. Looks like my psycho brother is going to throw grapes at me. I might have to train John Glenn to eat his rabbit.”
    “Bye,” I say, hanging up the phone. Sarah A’s head game with Vance makes me extremely uncomfortable. It’s almost as if she’s trying to drive him more crazy than he actually is. She won’t talk to him. She just won’t. Even when he’s nice. She pretends to talk to him when their parents are around, but any other time, she won’t acknowledge him, and only refers to him in the third person. I think it’s a form of manipulation. Or harassment. Or maybe just cruelty.
    I wish she knew how to handle things differently. But who am I to sit in judgment of Sarah A? I’ve got Liam. He’s basically normal. And she’s been saddled with a tweenage psycho brother who attacks cantaloupes. In public.
    Okay. I can do this. I’ve got to complete a task. I was born to complete tasks to demonstrate my worthiness to be a Sarah. Think big. I either need to vandalize something or steal something. But which? It would be so anticlimactic to vandalize something, because I can’t show up with proof of what I did. Unless I take a picture. But I don’t have a digital camera. Can I get 35mm film developed before six o’clock?
    Maybe I should vandalize something small enough to bring to the meeting. Wait. Vandalism is the wrong choice. Sarah A is the best vandal ever. She’s even vandalized moving objects and ill-tempered farm animals. She’d be so underwhelmed with anything I could possibly do. I need to steal something. I need to show up tonight with a