Free Saving Sky by Diane Stanley

thought. Most definitely not. If she read that thing, whatever it was, she’d regret it to her dying day. “Hamster,” she mouthed.
    He raised his eyebrows, and grinned, and shook his head. He pointed at the paper again.
    â€œGerald, do you have something you want to share with the class?”
    He looked up at Mrs. Chavez. “No,” he said.
    Sky moved her hand to casually cover the wad of paper so the teacher wouldn’t see. But it wasn’t there. To her left, she heard Jose make a little snort. She shifted her eyes in his direction and saw that he was clutching something in his balled-up fist. He was fighting to hold back a grin. Oh, great!
    â€œThank you,” Mrs. Chavez said. “Now, I’d say we have a pretty good list here. I’d like to add my own personal favorite. Good writing is clear thinking .”
    Jose quietly began unfolding the paper. The only thing worse than reading Gerald’s note was having someone else read it. With the speed of a pouncing cat, Sky reached over and snatched it out of his hands. In the process, she hit his desk with a thump.
    â€œSky, what is the problem?”
    â€œJose swiped my paper. I was just getting it back.”
    Mrs. Chavez looked truly disheartened. “Please,” she said. “Can’t you just pretend you’re here to learn?”
    Sky nodded and looked down. “I’m really sorry,” she said.
    Then as the teacher went on about the virtues of clear thinking, Sky slipped Gerald’s message onto her lap and, under the cover of the desk, she opened it and read:
    Â 
    Does Sky wear BOYS underwear?
    Â 
    I saw you ha ha
    Â 

15
Do We Have a Deal?
    S KY STOPPED AT HER LOCKER to pick up her lunch and put away her sweater. Gerald was waiting there, slouched against the wall, grinning like the python that just swallowed your cat. He was very, very pleased with himself.
    â€œSo, Sky. What do you say? Do we have a deal?”
    She’d known this was coming since English class.
    â€œI don’t know what you thought you saw at Target, but it sure wasn’t me in my underwear.”
    She was playing for time, her mind searching wildly for some way out.
    â€œNo. What I saw was you and your mom buying boys’ underwear. In the boys’ department. Shirts, and jeans, and other stuff, too. And seeing as how you don’t have a brother, I kind of wonder who they’re for. Your boyfriend, maybe?”
    â€œI don’t have a boyfriend.”
    â€œYou know, Abdool-a-moosh? Whatzit? He just sort of disappeared, didn’t he? I think I know where he went.”
    â€œIf I were you, I’d seriously keep that hamster in mind.” A hollow threat, and she knew it.
    â€œYeah, well, here’s the thing. I’ll trade you the hamster for the underwear. Deal?”
    â€œThere was hardly anything left in the store.” She was desperate now. “We just got whatever they had. Boys’ jeans, girls’ jeans—what’s the difference?”
    â€œJeans, maybe. Even shirts. But not the underwear. Sorry, Sky. I’m not buying it.”
    â€œThat was for my dad.”
    Gerald laughed. “I know you think I’m stupid, but I’m not. Is it a deal or not? ’Cause all I have to do is make a phone call.”
    She sighed. “Name your terms.”
    â€œIf you say one word about that thing in kindergarten…”
    â€œYou mean, specifically, the hamster that—”
    â€œ One word, Sky, and I’ll make a call. If I’m wrong, so what? No problem for me. But if I’m right, see, that’s a real mess, isn’t it? For Abdool-a-moosh. And for you. And your parents.”
    â€œAll right, Gerald,” she said. “Deal.”

16
Suspicious Origins or Associations
    â€œT HE STORY JUST BROKE THIS afternoon.” Ana fished the computer printout from her purse. “I’m sorry, Kareem, but you were right. President Bainbridge