Free Call Me Amy by Marcia Strykowski Page A

you’re so immature!” My eyes stung. All this time I thought Craig and I had a special friendship; now I finally understood that he just acted that way with everyone. My hands started shaking again when I realized how close I had come to making a fool of myself.
    I peeked over my shoulder. Craig took off in the other direction, while the two girls headed my way. Pamela came to a halt in front of me. She squinted her eyes and scrunched up her face. “I know what you’re up to,” she said, wagging a long polished nail at me before they continued down the hall.
    Oh, my gosh. Could she really? I hadn’t breathed a word about the dance. There’s no way she could find out. Was she just bluffing? Or, worse, was she talking about Pup?

12
    O N S ATURDAY , I woke to the rattle of wind-driven sleet against the windowpanes. All morning, the rain poured down. I tried to concentrate on a cross-stitch kit, except my eyes kept traveling to the windows, my mind elsewhere. There weren’t many more days to be with Pup, especially if Pamela knew about him. Finally I’d had enough. I ran upstairs for the Agatha Christie book, threw on my slicker, and headed for the door.
    â€œWhere in the world are you going?” asked Nancy, who looked as bored as me.
    â€œJust out.” I stuffed the book under the front of my slicker.
    â€œBut, Amy.” My mother looked up from her magazine. “It’s pouring cats and dogs out there. You’ll be soaked through in no time.”
    â€œWell, I’ve just got to run quick down towards the pier. Then I’ll be dry.”
    â€œTo the pier? I don’t understand. How will you be dry at the pier?”
    I glanced at Nancy and then answered my mother. “Because I’ll be in a house down near there.”
    Nancy laughed. “Yeah, right. The only one who lives down there is Old Coot. She’s the one who used to pass out banned books to kids.”
    My eyebrows went skyward as I pushed Agatha Christie further under my slicker. Nancy puffed herself up and waddled around looking as big and ugly as she could.
    â€œStop that, Nancy.” Mom proceeded to lecture Nancy about name-calling. I could feel the anger rising in me as I took the opportunity to slip out the door. Once again, Nancy had got me furious. There would probably be a lot of explaining to do when I got home; for now though, I just had to get to Pup.
    I raced down the hill. I could barely see with the rain slanting into my face. The wind howled and I could hear the surf crash against the shoreline and the grating of haunted lobster boats as they tugged at their moorings.
    By the time I reached Miss Cogshell’s, I was shivering. She answered my knock as I scraped the mud from my boots. A waft of warm cinnamony smells crept out. Miss Cogshell didn’t look at all surprised to see me—almost as though she’d been waiting for me to show up.
    I went in and exchanged looks with Craig. He sat at the kitchen table with his math book and papers spread out in front of him.
    â€œJust catching up on some homework,” he mumbled.
    â€œWe didn’t have any,” I said, before I caught Miss Cogshell’s look.
    â€œI still haven’t finished last week’s,” Craig said. “Not all of us are straight A students. Besides, my house isn’t exactly set up for studying.” He gave an awkward laugh as he stood and stretched his legs.
    Rather than argue about my occasional B, I grinned and pulled out the book. “This was a great mystery, Miss Cogshell.”
    She nodded. “One of my favorites, too.”
    I returned the book to its place on the shelf and went in to visit Pup. As I patted Pup, I strained to hear the voices in the kitchen.
    â€œTry this one again,” instructed Miss Cogshell. “I know you can do it.”
    The low mumbling that followed must have been Craig’s response. I surely hoped this tutoring would get him into