Sammy Keyes and the Skeleton Man (22 page)

He looks at her like a puppy that’s nipped his own tail, and then hurries out the door.

So there I am, passing out food, thinking about what’s just happened, when all of a sudden I’m standing face to face with this
girl
. She’s my size and her hair’s back in a ponytail, just like mine, and she’s not there with her mom or dad—she’s all by herself. And I’m standing there, holding out a plate to her, not quite wanting to let go of it when it hits me that she’s the girl I saw at St. Mary’s.

I look under the table and, sure enough, she’s wearing high-tops. I smile at her and say, “Hi!” but all she does is look at me kind of suspiciously. Then she takes the food and leaves.

Now you have to understand—it’s not every day I say hi to someone like I want to be friends with them. I mean, I’ve got Marissa and Dot, and other than that I don’t need any friends. People I know with lots of friends don’t seem to have any real friends. It’s like doubling the recipe when you’ve only got half the sugar—you wind up with a lot of cupcakes, but they’re not very sweet.

But there I was, being friendly to a perfect stranger, wishing she’d come back so I could talk to her and find
out some important stuff—like her name and where she gets her high-tops.

And what in the world she’s doing, getting her dinner at the soup kitchen.