Sammy Keyes and the Runaway Elf by Wendelin Van Draanen Page B

“She’s way over the edge, and I’ll tellyou what—I’m staying away from her. Miles away from her. Don’t wait for me between classes—don’t even look for me at lunch. I’m going to eat in the library or in Mr. Caan’s office … somewhere she’d never think to look for me. I’m not going to go anywhere I usually go—I’m going to do the opposite.”
    Tenille said, “She’s still gonna find you.”
    I thought Heather was going to strangle her. “I just want to make it to Christmas, okay? After Friday I won’t have to worry about her for three whole weeks. By then she should’ve forgotten about it.”
    They started moving in our direction, so we scrambled to the back of the alcove and held real still as they walked past us. When they’d ducked out the door, Marissa said, “She sure is feeling guilty about something.”
    I nodded. “And if it’s not the cats, I don’t know what it is.”
    Marissa said, “Okay, so how are we going to get her to crack?”
    I could feel an idea start to tingle in the back of my brain. “Do you still have a Polaroid camera?”
    Marissa rubbed her hands together. “Oooo! You’ve got a plan! Tell me!”
    So I gave her a rough sketch of what I was thinking and then said, “Let’s go find Holly and Dot. This is going to take all of us!”
    We ducked out of the locker room, met up with Holly and Dot, and by the time the end-of-lunch bell was ringing, we had a plan that—with a little help from Officer Borsch—would make
anyone
rip up floorboards.
    Even Heather.
    *  *  *
    After school I made myself forget about Heather and concentrate on what I was going to tell Mrs. Landvogt. I picked up Elyssa, and when I got to the home I was chickening out about seeing Mrs. Graybill again. It was too weird. But Mrs. Keltner wouldn’t deliver the things for me. She said, “You’ve got to go in and see her. Just for a minute.”
    “But I—”
    “Please, Sammy. She’s been asking for you. She won’t eat. She’s pretty despondent. I think it’ll help.”
    So I went in. And Mrs. Graybill took one look at me and let out a long sigh. “Samantha …” she said, like I was her long-lost friend.
    I laid her robe across the foot of her bed and whispered, “Hi, Mrs. Graybill.”
    She wiped the drool from her cheek, then motioned to the chair next to her bed. “Sit, sit!”
    I didn’t want to sit. I wanted to give her her stuff and get away from there. Away from the lilacs and chlorine. Away from the gray.
    She noticed there was still something else in the bag. “What have you got there?”
    “Oh, I hope you don’t mind.… Grams thought you might like to have this.”
    She took the picture, and for a minute there I thought the Mrs. Graybill I knew was going to jump right out of bed and smash the thing over my head. Instead, she buried her face in her hands and started crying.
    I whispered, “I’m sorry!”
    She took another look at the picture, then hugged it to her chest, sobbing.
    I didn’t know what to do. I stood there like an idiot, watching her matted head bob up and down, wishing I’d never brought the picture. Finally I said, “I can put it back if you want.”
    She hugged it tighter and looked almost scared. “No!”
    “But …”
    She looked at the photograph again, then touched the glass gently, as if it might burn her. “We were so young. So young.”
    I watched her drift back in her mind. “Angelique was always the baby. She was only a year younger, but Mama always called her Baby.” She tilted the picture toward me and whispered, “Wasn’t she beautiful?”
    I nodded. “You both were.”
    She gave me a sad little smile, then lay back against the pillow and closed her eyes. A little stream of tears started running across her temples, and before you know it, she was sobbing again. Finally she wiped her eyes and looked at me. “I was such a fool.”
    Now, I knew she wasn’t talking about all the times she’d chased me down the hall or the way