You know the drill:

Disclaimer: I, O814, do not own Sammy Keyes in any way, shape, or form.

Lights, Camera, Action!

"Who's next?" Holly asked holding out the book.

"Oh! Pick me! Pick me!" Billy shouted, causing the majority of the student population to shake their heads. He grabbed the book and, after clearing his throat for dramatic effect, began to read.

"Chapter Four. Grams was mad all right. She made me eat cold fish and rice, and wouldn't let me get up from the table until I'd eaten every single cold pea rolling around on my plate."

Billy winced in sympathy at what Sammy had to endure.

"Normally I would've just slipped Dorito some of the fish and shoved the peas in my napkin, but Grams sat right across from me and I knew from the way she wasn't saying anything that it was a bad time to get caught using Dorito as a garbage disposal."

Laughter rang about the auditorium.

"On top of that, while I was choking down cold food she ate every last crumb of a big piece of pound cake. When I had finished my dinner and asked for some. All she said was, "It's time for you to go to bed."

So I headed for the couch."

"Wait, she sleeps on the couch?"

Those who knew Sammy personally nodded their heads in agreement.

"The couch is actually pretty comfortable, and it beats sleeping on the floor or with Grams. I tried sleeping with Grams when I first moved in because I was having so many bad dreams. Trouble is, she snores so loud that I wasn't getting any sleep, so I finally started using the couch. I still get bad dreams once in a while, so sometimes I go in and listen to Grams snore, but most of the time the couch and I get along just fine.

And you might think that I'd have bad dreams after waving at the guy in the Heavenly Hotel and running into Officer Borsch—"

The majority of the audience nodded as if that was a logical assumption.

"—but I didn't."

"Of course she didn't," I murmured.

"I slept like a log."

"Of course she did."

"I might even have snored.

In the morning when I woke up I thought about everything that had happened, and decided there was no way the guy at the Heavenly Hotel could know who I was. With those binoculars in front of my face and my hair pulled pack in a ponytail like it was, I could have been anyone. He might even have thought I was an old person. I mean, if he knew anything about my Grams' building, that's what he'd think.

Several people nodded at her way of thinking, it was kind of logical.

So there I was, lying on the couch, feeling pretty good, when the phone rings. Grams comes scooting out of her room in her robe and slippers and picks it up, and I can tell from the way she's talking that it's Lady Lana on the other end. So much for feeling good."

"She really has to stop being so dramatic," Holly commented.

"After about five minutes of keeping her voice down, Grams covers up the phone and says, "Samantha, it's your mother. She'd really like to talk to you."

Normally I would've given Grams an argument, but seeing as how I'd upset her so much the night before, I just went into the kitchen and took the phone.

Lady Lana starts gushing about how much she loves me and misses me and how she can't wait to see me again, but she's so close to landing a part in a part in a major motion picture and has to stay just a little while longer. And the whole time she's talking I'm thinking that it's been over a year since she dumped with Grams and told she'd be back "soon."

"Poor Sammy."

"I really wanted to hang up on her like I usually do—"

Looks that plainly read How rude! formed on several teachers faces.

"—but that upsets Grams, so I just stood there, counting the loops in the phone cord, not saying much.

When Lady Lana finally got off the phone, I went back to the couch and sat with the blanket wrapped all around me. Grams sits beside me and says real quiet, "I'm sorry about last night."

"Me too."

After a minute, she sighs. "You know your mother means well…"

"I just want to forget about her, okay?"

Grams is quiet for a little while, then perks up and says, "Say! It's your first d ay of junior high school—how about French toast for breakfast?"

I say, "Sure!" and while I'm getting ready for school Grams makes me French toast out of pound cake."

"Oh yum," I heard several people moan at the thought of food.

"it was the best French toast I'd ever had, and by the time I left for school I'd forgetten all about Lady Lana's phone call."

I felt an eyebrow quirking up in disbelief. Surely she wouldn't have forgotten about it.

"Well, almost anyway."

I felt a small, satisfied smile growing on my face.

Dot must have noticed because she quickly asked why I was smiling.

"Nothing," I answered, motioning for Billy to continue.

"Marissa was already waiting at the top of the school steps. I waved at her and ran up to meet her.

She pulls me aside and whispers, "This place is a zoo! I can't believe how many people are here."

We stand there a minute, watching everyone talking and laughing and moving like they know where they're going. Finally I look at Marissa and say, "Wow…"

"I know! And I don't see anybody I recognize, do you?"

I shake my head. "Maybe we should go find our homeroom."

We pull out our schedules and Marissa says, "B-2. I don't even remember where the B block is, do you?"

"Oh that's easy! It's—"

I shot an exasperated look at Billy, cutting him off mid-sentence.

"I didn't. Everything looked completely different when we'd come to check it out on our own. There hadn't been any people.

So we walked around in circles for a while and finally I said, "I haven't got a clue. Let's just ask someone, okay?"

Out of all the people walking around William Rose Junior High School that day, Marissa picks a girl with hair the color of fire—"

The reaction was immediate. Everybody's eyes locked onto Heather.

"—and says, "Let's go ask her."

The girl looked like an eighth-grader, and from the way she was talking with the guy standing next to her, she seemed real comfortable being in a tidal wave of students. So Marissa was right—she probably knew exactly where B-2 was. I just would never have picked her because she looked, well, snotty."

The tips of Heather's ears turned red, whether from embarrassment or anger, I didn't know. Probably both.

"Partly it was the color she'd dyed her hair. Partly it was the earrings—she had five studs in each ear and a group of rings looped over the tops. Mostly, though, it was the way she looked at us when we walked over. Like we were kicking sand in her corner of the beach.

Heather seemed to get redder and redder with each passing comment that dissed her.

I almost grabbed Marissa and suggested we find someone else, but before I knew it she was saying, "Excuse me. Do either of you know where B-2 is?"
At first Firehead—"

Snickers erupted throughout the auditorium at Sammy's nickname for Heather.

"—just snubs us, but then she notices my shoes. And she laughs. "High-tops? What are you, straight from elementary school?"

I stare at her a minute and can feel my face getting really hot. How can someone who decorates her ears like a Christmas tree have the nerve to make fun of my high-tops?"

More laughter rang out.

"And I'm about to tell her to keep her snotty thoughts to herself when the guy she's standing next to says, "Hey…aren't you Brandon McKenze's cousin?"

Marissa smiles at him. "Yeah, I am. Who are you?"

"I'm Taylor Briggs. My brother and him are best friends. You don't remember me? I was at his pool party this summer."

Marissa blinks a bit, then says, "Sorry, there were so many people there…"

"That's all right." He takes her schedule and says, "What room are you looking for?"

"B-2. It's our homeroom."

Now while Taylor's talking to Marissa, Firehead's getting real roasty around the collar. And when he's done telling us how to get to B-2, she glares at us, then throws her nose in the air and goes back to talking with Taylor.

Holly whistles. "Drama Queen."

Dot laughs and whispers, "No kidding!"

When we're far enough away I say, "Wow! She was scary!"

Marissa laughs. "You're not kidding!" And we hurry off to find B-2.

Our homeroom teacher, Mrs. Ambler, was already in the classroom, rearranging things on her desk. The bell rang and she looks up at the clock, then smiles at us and says, "We still have one more bell. Go ahead and find yourselves seats."

We find a couple of seats near the back, and I say to Marissa, "I've been wanting to tell you about what happened yesterday."

Marissa checks out the people around her. "Oh yeah? What?"

Kids are piling into the classroom, and since I don't want anyone to hear, I whisper, "You know the Heavenly Hotel?"

Just then the tardy bell rings and Mrs. Ambler calls, "Find a desk. You'll have assigned seats by the end of the week, but for now sit where you like."

So we're looking around at everyone scrambling for a seat near the back, when who walks in the door? Firehead.

I nudge Marissa. "Look!"

At first I thought she was there to deliver a message or something, but when she sits at a desk kitty-corner to me it hits me—she's no snot-nosed eighth-grader."

"No, really?" I heard someone mumble sarcastically.

"She's a snot-nosed seventh-grader."

"Hey!" Heather cried. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I must have been staring, because she turns around and says, "What are you looking at?" Then she eyes my shoes and says, "You freak."

Several frowns and disapproving looks were thrown at Heather. I almost felt sorry for the girl.

"Mrs. Ambler calls, "Settle down, class. Let's begin." And as she's welcoming us to our first day of junior high school, explaining the rules for homeroom, Firehead leans back and says, "Taylor says you look like a fourth-grader."

Several cries of "She does not!" rang out from my circle of friends.

"Now maybe I'm kind of skinny and maybe I don't wear makeup or get all decked out to go to school, but there's no way I look like I'm in the fourth grade.

Mrs. Ambler asks the class to stand so we can pledge the flag, so I stand up and say, "Bug off, would you?"

Firehead pulls a face like Oh, I'm so scared and then leans over again and says, "Whatcha gonna do? Kick me with a high-top?" She puts her hand in front of her mouth. "Ooooh…I'm petrified!"

The frowns and disapproving looks continued to be thrown at Heather.

"I roll my eyes and keep on pledging, but I'm thinking, What's your problem?

Now Firehead's not saying the Pledge. She's got her heart but her eye on me. And when we're just about done, she leans back and says, "Oh, you say the Pledge so good. Did you spend the summer practicing?"

The looks intensified.

"Mrs. Ambler looks straight at her. "Young lady, what is your name?"

Firehead looks around a bit, then points to herself and asks, "Me?"

Mrs. Ambler snaps, "Yes, you."

She gives her an innocent little look. "Heather. Heather Acosta."

"Well, Miss Acosta, maybe your elementary school teachers allowed you to talk during the Pledge, but you're in junior high school now and we expect a degree of maturity from you. I'd like to try it again, only this time I'd like you to come up here and lead us."

All of a sudden homeroom is dead quiet. And while everyone's busy thinking there's no way they're ever going to talk during the Pledge in Mrs. Ambler's class, Heather's eyes move side to side like she doesn't quite believe what's happening to her.

Finally she moves to the front of the class, and by the time she's done leading the Pledge, her face is as red as her hair. And when she gets back to her chair she gives me the wickedest evil eye I've ever seen—"

"Why?" Dot asks. "It's not like it's her fault."

"—and I can tell she's thinking that somehow this all my fault.

I can also tell that Heather Acosta is going to find a way to get me back. And when she does, it'll be in spades."

"Finished!" Billy exclaims. "Who's next?"

"I guess I'll go," Dot volunteered. She was quickly passed the book and asked to begin.

Gah…I'm sick.

If I don't update, I hope you all have a Happy Thanksgiving!

Achoo!

~O814

Questions? Comments? Concerns?