Free Sammy Keyes and the Wedding Crasher by Wendelin Van Draanen Page A

cry.
    Holly obviously agrees with Dot. “He’s probably hitting on every new girl he meets at the high school.”
    I look at Marissa and play along. “You’ve got to get over him, Marissa. Even Casey’s not friends with him anymore.”
    And just like that, Marissa’s off the hook and I’m
on
it. “Hey,” Holly says, turning to me. “What’s going on with you and Casey, anyway? I saw him at your building yesterday. He went up to the second floor, stopped, just stood there forever, then turned around.”
    I look over both shoulders and drop my voice when I say, “You saw him on the
fire escape
?” because that part of the Senior Highrise is right across Broadway from where she lives.
    She nods. “I tried to call you, but your phone was busy for, like, an
hour
.”
    “What time was it?”
    She thinks back. “About seven?”
    “Shoot. Grams was on the phone a
lot
yesterday trying to get ahold of my mom.”
    “We’re going to be late,” Dot says, heading for class. “The bell rang ages ago!”
    Holly follows her because they have the same third period, and Marissa and I chase after them, even though our classes aren’t in that direction. “Are you sure it was him?”
    Holly nods. “Positive.” She laughs. “You’re not the only one with binoculars, you know.”
    I have to break away from her or I’ll be late, too, so I call, “But what was he
doing
?”
    “I have no idea!” she calls back. “I’ll see you at lunch!”
    “See you at lunch!” we all shout at each other, then scatter to our separate corners of school.

TEN
    The substitute in Mr. Vince’s class was really nice but didn’t know much about history. “I’m a Spanish teacher,” she told us, “and I received no real lesson plans, so I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to just read quietly at your desks.”
    Sasha Stamos whips out her history book and starts pawing through it. “We just finished chapter two. Should we start chapter three?”
    Everyone glares at Sasha as the substitute smiles and says, “Thank you. Yes. Please start reading chapter three.” And while she’s looking through Mr. Vince’s copy of our textbook for page numbers to write on the board, I notice Heather giving Sasha the extreme evil eye.
    I guess Sasha picked up on the vibe, because she turns to me and whispers, “What’s
her
problem?”
    I shrug. “You just turned free day into assignment day, and she will never forget it.”
    “Free day?” She blinks at me. “What?”
    “Never mind.”
    And then she gets it. “Oooooh!” She looks around at the rest of the class and mouths, “Sorry!”
    I lean forward. “Don’t expect Heather to accept your apology.”
    “But … you do?”
    “Hey, it’s no big deal.” She still seems to be worried about it, though, so I whisper, “Look, you’re right, and the rest of us are wrong. It’s just, this is
Vince’s
class, you know?”
    She whispers, “So why do we even have to come to it?” I give her a beats-me shrug and she faces forward, but a minute later she’s talking to me again. “And pointing out that Heather is texting right now would be … ?”
    “Oooh, very bad,” I whisper back. “Suicidal, in fact. Everyone would think you’re a rat, and Heather would find some big-time way to pay you back.”
    “This is stupid,” she says, and turns around again.
    Heather
is
texting. She’s doing a good job of hiding it because her book is open in front of her and it looks like she’s reading from it, but both her hands are under her desk and her thumbs are definitely moving.
    I check over my shoulder to see if Billy’s breaking his little phone probation, but both of his hands are visible and he’s actually reading.
    Well, there’s probably a comic book on top of his history book, but still. He’s reading.
    And then I notice that Sasha is totally glaring at Heather.
    I lean forward and whisper, “You might not want to get in a war with her. Take it from me—it’s not worth