Free Extraordinary Means by Robyn Schneider

Librarian?”
    “Just a minute,” she snapped.
    “It’s an emergency!” I said desperately.
    She turned. And I had nothing. I tried to think fast.
    “A really big emergency,” I repeated loudly.
    I caught Sadie’s attention, and her eyes went wide as she snapped her laptop shut.
    “Um . . .” I stalled. “There are ants all over the reference section. Someone spilled juice.”
    It was a lousy excuse, but too late to make up another one. The librarian muttered something under her breath and rushed in the other direction.
    I hurried back to my table to pack up, because I didn’t want to be there when she realized I’d lied.
    I was putting my calculator into my bag when a shadow fell over the table.
    It was Sadie. And she looked furious.
    “What are you doing?” she demanded.
    “Fleeing the scene of a crime.” I shouldered my backpack. “Colonel Mustard, in the library, with the ants.”
    “That’s not cute,” Sadie said, following me out of the library. “Just in case you were wondering.”
    I held the door open for her, and she shot me a look.
    “I didn’t need your help.” She folded her arms across her chest.
    “It looked like you did,” I told her.
    “Well, I didn’t.”
    “Okay.” I shrugged. “Whatever.”
    I started to head back toward the dorms, but Sadie followed me.
    “You’re not going to tell anyone about the router, are you?” she asked.
    “Of course not,” I said.
    The thought hadn’t even occurred to me. But it had clearly occurred to Sadie. I waited for her to thank me, or to say that I could join them next time they pulled an internet heist, but she did neither of those things. And I was tired of her acting like I was this terrible person who needed to be taught a lesson.
    “What is it?” I asked. “Why do you have a problem with me?”
    Sadie laughed a little, like it was so obvious that she couldn’t even believe I was asking.
    “Think back to summer camp,” she prompted.
    “I didn’t even know you.”
    “Then why did you ask me to the freaking dance ?”
    She said it with such force, and such anger, that I took a step back. Her eyes were dark, and her jaw jutted stubbornly, and I knew that whatever she was talking about was the real reason she’d been so awful to me ever since we’drun into each other at the tray return.
    “I never asked you to any dance,” I said.
    “Yes, you did!” Sadie accused. “You wrote me a note, and you gave me your sunglasses!”
    “My sunglasses?” I tried to think back, and then I realized: they’d been stolen, along with my headphones. These two guys in my cabin had gotten kicked out for it, too. They’d taken iPods, watches, even cash.
    “I waited forever for you to pick me up for the dance,” Sadie went on. “And then a girl came with that note saying you’d changed your mind.”
    “I’ve never written you a note in my life!” I said, which was the truth. “Someone was messing with you, but it wasn’t me!”
    Sadie narrowed her eyes at me, like she wasn’t sure what was true, and then she shook her head.
    “I don’t believe you.”
    “Do you remember the note? The writing?” I asked.
    She nodded.
    I pulled out my notebook with a flourish.
    “Well?” I demanded.
    One of the things about having a mom who taught third grade was that she’d drilled me on perfect penmanship. She’d made me practice in composition books after school, sitting next to her while she graded papers. I’d hated it, but it had resulted in what Hannah called “Lane Sans Serif.”
    Sadie stared down at my notebook, her cheeks flushing an even brighter shade of pink.
    “I have to go,” she mumbled. “Thanks for the, uh, diversion.”
    I REALLY WASN ’ T feeling that great, so I spent the rest of that night in bed. I told myself it was just a migraine, but I suppose on some level I knew the truth. I’d been overdoing it. Too much studying, not enough food, too little sleep.
    I’d managed it well enough at home, but that was