Sammy Keyes and the Skeleton Man (9 page)

Dot looks at me so I try out my Princess Nikki voice. “Every single one of us—even the cats.”

Heather gives me a funny look. “The
cats?
”

I grin. “Yeah, we’re raising leopards.”

At first she thinks I’m serious, but then she starts laughing, and pretty soon we’re all busting up over the lamest
joke of the year. And when we’re all done laughing I say, “Cool earrings,” because she’s got on the
ugliest
earrings I’ve ever seen. They look like someone cut a circle out of an inner tube and glued on red marbles.

Heather smiles real big. “Thanks!” She looks at me a little closer and says, “Your name’s Nikki? You’re all right.”

Just then the doorbell rings and, sure enough, it’s Marissa. Heather says, “Well, well, Marissa. I didn’t think you’d show up without that loser friend of yours. What’s she doing tonight? Painting her shoes?”

Marissa does a bit of the McKenze dance and looks around. “Wow, this is some party!”

And it was. There were people everywhere. Heather’s house is kind of spread out and has lots of wood paneling and scrap metal sculptures hanging on the walls—copper windmills and birds and stuff like that. And the farther into the house we wandered, the more rooms there seemed to be, and every single one of them was packed with kids from school. I’m not talking just seventh graders. There were eighth graders, too.
Lots
of them.

And part of me’s feeling kind of bad. Here are all these people, having a good time,
liking
Heather Acosta, and I’m the one person in the entire school that Heather hates. It doesn’t matter to them
why
she hates me; all they know is that Heather hates this girl named Sammy, and anyone who could give such a terrific party must be right. Not that it makes any sense; it’s just the way that kids who don’t think about things think.

So I’m wandering around with Dot, looking at everyone eating Halloween cookies, feeling like a cat in a dog kennel,
when all of a sudden Heather comes up behind me and says, “Hey, did you get some punch?”

I hate to admit it, but I didn’t see her coming. And hearing Heather’s voice right there in my ear made me jump. On top of that, it was weird having Heather be
nice
to me, so after I get done jumping I kind of stand there batting my wings through the holes in my mask. “What?”

She laughs. “C’mon. There’s punch and cookies and stuff in the kitchen. Want some?”

I say, “Sure,” and then Princess Nikki kicks back into gear. “I’m starved!”

Dot and Heather and I are all heading toward the kitchen, and I can tell from the way Heather’s looking at me that she’s ready to start asking me questions. So I say, “This is an awesome party, Heather. I can’t believe how many people are here. You must be really popular!”

That makes her smile real big. And she’s about to say something like, No joke! when this lady comes out of the kitchen calling, “Heather! Heather, bring me some towels, would you? The punch spilled.”

At first I thought this woman was something out of a weird sixties movie. She had hair the color of a new penny, and it swooped right over her left eyebrow, clear around her head, and into a monster beehive.

And that was just her
head
. On her body she was wearing a hot pink scoop-neck blouse with sleeves that looked like little pink petticoats. And green spandex pants. I’m talking
lime
green. And on her feet were gold high heels with big fake jewels going across the tops.

Then I noticed the dainty sapphire necklace that she was
wearing, and it slowly dawned on me that this was not a woman in costume. This was Heather’s mom.

So I’m standing there taking all this in, when Heather says, “C’mon.”

I make myself quit staring at her mother and follow her down the hallway. And when Heather sees that Dot is coming with us she says, “Why don’t you go talk to Marissa, Dotty? She looks lonely.”

I turn toward Dot and roll my eyes, but before you know it I’m going down the back hallway alone with the Doberman.

Heather gets some towels from a closet near the end of the hall, and then opens the door to a room nearby. She says, “Give me just a sec,” then goes over to a full-length mirror and plays with her hair and rearranges her chains a bit while I stand in the doorway watching.

It doesn’t take me long to figure out that this is Heather’s bedroom. There are posters all over the walls—mostly of rock stars and movie stars. Her bed’s not very big, but it looks big because it’s got a king-size black-and-white fuzzy cowhide bedspread hanging clear down to the floor. An end table by the bed is covered with the same material, and sitting on it is a music box and a twelve-inch plastic cow. And I’m wondering what the deal is with
cows
when I realize that the one on her end table isn’t just a knickknack—it’s a phone.

I guess Heather saw me staring at all her cow stuff because she says, “I used to think it was cool, but now I’m sick of it. I’m trying to talk my mom into letting me redo my room, but she’s being her usual tight self.”

“Your mom seems pretty cool to me …”

Heather snickers. “My mom’s a joke. She’s forty years old, and I swear she thinks she can still pick up twenty-year-olds.” She blows some air out the side of her mouth. “She’s probably out there right now, flirting with an
eighth
grader.” Then she laughs and says, “With my luck she’s trying to pick up Jared.”

I can’t resist. “Jared? Is that your boyfriend?”

That makes her little chains jingle. “Don’t I
wish
. No, but he’s the cutest guy at school, and knowing my mom, she’s probably out there asking him to dance.”

I didn’t think I could ever laugh at anything Heather Acosta said, but the thought of Heather’s mom with her tornado top and spandex bottom dancing with Mr. Cool was enough to make
anyone
laugh, even me.

And when I started laughing, so did Heather. So there we are, the worst enemies in school, cracking up together. When we wind down I ask, “So why don’t
you
go ask him to dance?”

She crosses her eyes. “Because
Amber’s
here.”

“Amber?”

“His girlfriend. She is such a witch. No one can even
talk
to Jared without her grabbing his arm and trying to get him alone. I wish I could—” A smile spreads across her face. “C’mon.” Then she does something that makes every hair on my body shoot straight out. She links up with me. She’s got the towels in one arm, and she links her other arm through mine and yanks me along. And I’m stammering, “What? … wait …,” but the next thing you know she’s delivered the towels to her mother and we’re in the den, standing in front of Jared and Amber.

Jared’s dressed up like a baseball player, and he’s slouched on the couch looking pretty bored. Amber’s perched on the armrest, with the tail of her cat costume and one arm wrapped over his shoulders.

Heather says over the music, “Hi, guys! Are you having a good time?”

They nod, but you can tell—they’re not.

“This is my friend Nikki.”

They barely look at me. “Hi.”

So we stand there, looking around, and Heather says, “So why aren’t you dancing?”

Jared shrugs. Amber twitches her tail.

“You’re not letting this Sammy thing get to you, are you?”

Jared snickers. “
I’m
not.”

Amber hits him with her tail.

I pipe up with, “What Sammy thing?”

Heather laughs. “Sammy …” She looks at Jared. “What can you say about Sammy?”

Jared just laughs through his nose and shrugs, but Amber puffs out like a cat ready to fight. “Well, I can tell you this—she’s strange.”

Jared grins. “But she’s got good taste.”

Amber whacks him with her tail again.

“How’s she strange?” I ask. Like I really want to know.

Amber rolls her eyes. “She wears green shoes, for one thing.”

“And she’s got the hots for Jared, for another.” Heather winks at Jared and says, “Not that
that’s
so strange. She just won’t leave him alone.”

Jared smiles back at her, and Amber’s so back-combed
about
me
that she doesn’t even notice what’s going on right beneath her whiskers.

I ask, “Seriously?”

“Seriously. She’s been making harassing phone calls, and from what I understand, they’re pretty embarrassing!”

Amber shakes her head. “Where does she get the
nerve?
”

“That’s Sammy for you.”

My stomach’s churning like a cement truck. It feels sick and heavy, like it’s going to slosh over any minute. And as Heather sets me up, bit by bit, I know that what I’ve got to do is get
away
from her so I can get to work on my plan, but I can’t just leave. I’ve got to stand there and smile while this ball of cement sets up in my stomach.

I say, “Sounds like you don’t like her very much, either.”

Heather laughs and says, “What’s there to like? She’s nosy and sneaky, and she thinks she’s
so
smart.” She grins at Amber. “But at least she’s not horning in on
my
boyfriend.”

Amber stands up. “Can we talk about something else?” She holds out a paw to Jared and says, “I’m ready to dance now.”

Jared takes her hand but gives Heather a sly little wink as he walks away.

That about sends Heather into orbit. She grabs me by the arm and shakes me. “Did you see that? Did you see the look he gave me?” She keeps on shaking. “It’s working! It’s working!”

Well, I knew darn well what was working, but I probably would’ve asked her anyway just to see if she’d tell me or not, only I couldn’t. I was afraid to move, let alone breathe. See, with all that shaking Heather was doing, the
cord of the monitor had slipped loose and I could feel it, slithering like a snake down my body.

I grab my side and say, “Uh, I really need to use the bathroom. Can you tell me where it is?”

She’s got her eye on Jared. “Oh, sure. It’s down that hall where the towels were. First door on the left.”

I smile and say, “Thanks,” and then hobble my way over to the bathroom as fast as I can.

The minute I’m inside I lock the bathroom door and let go of the cord, and—
thunk!
—the big part of the baby monitor falls to the floor. I tuck the thing under my arm, then I check the hallway, and sneak my way down to Heather’s room.

The light was on, so I clicked it off and peeked out her window to see which way the bedroom faced. I was relieved to see streetlights—at least I wouldn’t have to go snooping in her backyard later.

I turned the light on again and started searching for a place to plug in the monitor. I decided the only place that would work was under the bed. Trouble is, I couldn’t reach the outlet without crawling under the bed. So there I am, with fifteen princess skirts tangling me up and the scarves from my pointy little hat falling in my face, trying to reach the outlet, when all of a sudden I hear the door open.

I scrunch the rest of the way under the bed and hold my breath. Then I hear Heather say, “Come on!”

I can’t see who she’s talking to because I’m surrounded by polyester cowhide, but when I hear this fake baby-girl voice say, “Does she ever come in without knocking?” I know she’s with Monet Jarlsberg.

Monet sounds like a Barbie doll with a mosquito stuck up her nose. And the fact that she’s Heather’s little pipeline to the cool crowd makes her annoying
and
sneaky. Really, considering how many people Monet’s stabbed in the back, I’m surprised she’s lived as long as she has.

Anyway, I hear their footsteps getting closer and closer to the bed, and all of a sudden Heather is groping around
under
the bed, saying, “Nah. Anyway, she’s too busy mixing up more punch.”

Now my heart’s having a banging good time with my chest, and I’m doing my best to inch away from Heather’s hand when I notice a pack of cigarettes peeking out from under the corner of her bedspread.

Her hand’s hopping around like a frog on a griddle and she’s saying, “They were right here!” and I know if I don’t do something quick, she’s going to
look
for them, and then Princess Nikki will be busted. So I scoot the pack of cigarettes a few inches closer to her, and when her hand hops onto them,
whoosh!
they disappear.

I let out a big sigh, but the next thing you know Heather and Monet are flopping onto Heather’s bed. And they don’t just sit there. They
bounce
. And every time they do, the box spring crushes my shoulder, and no matter how I try to move, here comes the bed, smashing me like a giant princess tenderizer.

When they settle down, I hear Heather say, “Here. I don’t get my allowance ’til next Friday, so I’ll give you the rest then.”

“That’s what you said
last
time, and you never did.”

By now I’ve pulled the corner of the bedspread aside so
I can hear better, and I can smell cigarettes burning away up there. Heather blows out smoke. “Oh, c’mon, Monet. You didn’t have anything
good
last time. If you’ve got something good, I’ll get you the rest on Friday.”

Monet starts to argue, but then she sputters and spits and starts hacking away like she’s going to die. And there goes the bed again, bouncing up and down, turning me into a princess patty.

Heather laughs. “I thought you said you did this all the time!”

“I do!” Monet tries another puff, but pretty soon she’s hacking again.

Heather says, “Just tell me what you heard, would you?”

Monet says through her coughing, “What do you want first—Jared and Amber, or Sammy?”

And then I remembered—Monet had been sitting one table over at lunch when we’d been talking about crashing Heather’s party.

So now I’m pulverized
and
worried. Real worried. What if Monet knew I was planning to crash the party? I didn’t think we’d been loud enough for anyone to hear, but we were excited and maybe someone
had
heard. Especially if that someone had been paid to listen.

So there I am, suffocating under polyester cowhide, dying to know if I should leave Heather’s party through a window or not, when Heather says, “Jared and Amber.”