Free Call Me Amy by Marcia Strykowski Page B

the next grade.
    Pup got restless and belly-bounced down the hallway. He turned in at the parlor. I followed, calling out to him. Soon Craig and Miss Cogshell joined us, and we all watched Pup explore and sniff every nook and cranny.
    â€œYour house is always so quiet. Don’t you have any TV, Miss C.?” asked Craig, looking around in disbelief. “How can you watch
Hawaii Five-0
?”
    â€œActually, I do own one. It’s right under here.” Miss Cogshell pinched up a large doily that had been covering a small television. “Just wait ’til I show you what my friend from Texas sent me.” She carefully unrolled a clingy, plastic sheet and stuck it over the screen. Then she turned on the TV. She moved her massive body to one side so we could see. The once black and white pictures now had tints of color filling in all the light areas. Miss Cogshell watched a moment, then glanced over at us.
    â€œThat’s super,” I said.
    â€œ
Su
-per,” agreed Craig, laughing. “I think I’ll stick with Zenith.”
    â€œWell, I’m sure this doesn’t compete with the new color televisions. Suits me fine just the same.”
    Miss Cogshell was rolling up the magic color screen when there was a thud and a high pitched squeal from somewhere outside, behind the house.
    I spun around. Pup must be in the kitchen! I rushed in, grabbed him in a big hug, and slid him under the table, with me right behind. I had to hide him from whoever was out there. Thank goodness the inside door was closed shut against the last of the rain.
    â€œAw, geez,” said Craig, a couple of seconds after he reached the kitchen.
    â€œShe probably slipped and bumped up against the house,” said Miss Cogshell when she joined him. “Do you
know
that young lady peeking in the window, Craig?”
    Craig must have nodded because Miss Cogshell opened the door. I couldn’t believe it when I heard Pamela’s voice and recognized the shiny red tips of her mud-splashed boots as she stepped inside.
    â€œMy goodness, you’ll get drenched,” said Miss Cogshell.
    I listened to the squeaking of Pamela’s matching, hooded slicker and could just imagine her straining her neck to peer past Miss Cogshell in search of Craig.
    â€œOh hi, Craig,” Pamela said. “I thought I saw your bike down here a lot. I just wanted to ask you something, um . . . about homework, in private.”
    â€œI was leaving anyway.” Craig yanked his jacket off the kitchen chair, inches from my hiding place.
    â€œThat was a close call,” said Miss Cogshell after the door closed behind them.
    I peered out the window and wondered which of a long list of possibilities, each more horrible than the last, Pamela had come to see Craig about.
    T HAT NIGHT, AFTER I was in bed, the storm still raged outside, sending shadows around the room. My mothergave a soft knock on my bedroom door. I shoved my diary under my pillow, flicked off my flashlight and said, “Yeah?”
    â€œI just wanted to talk a bit,” she said, as she squeezed in between the pillows of my window seat. She probably wished she could clear them out, but we had decided long ago that my space was off limits.
    â€œYou’ve always been a good girl and I don’t want you to think I’m accusing you of anything. It’s just that, well, you’re a teenager now, and I’d like to know where you go every day.”
    She caught me at a relaxed moment, so rather than fight it, I decided to talk to her. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” I said, smiling into the darkness.
    â€œTry me.”
    â€œI go to Miss Cogshell’s house.”
    â€œFor?”
    â€œTo visit with her and,” I took a deep breath, “a pet of hers.”
    â€œWell, that certainly sounds admirable. Your grandmother used to speak quite highly of Sylvia.”
    â€œWhat did Nancy mean about banned books?” I