Sammy Keyes and the Wedding Crasher by Wendelin Van Draanen

Author:Wendelin Van Draanen [Draanen, Wendelin Van]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-375-89734-4
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2010-10-12T04:00:00+00:00

SEVENTEEN

So much for riding skateboards home. After we threw away the scraps of Marissa’s board, we wound up hoofing it out of there some back way that Marissa wanted to go. It was an odd route, too, and finally I ask her, “Why are we going this way?”

She just shrugs and says, “Nobody from school goes this way.”

I snort. “Well, yeah! Why would they?” But then something hits me. “Are you avoiding someone?”

“No!” She laughs. “I just like the trees, don’t you?”

Well, the trees don’t look like anything special to me, but I don’t tell her that. I just walk along wondering what’s really behind our going this way, ’cause I’m getting the feeling it has nothing to do with trees.

She lets out a sigh. “First my dad runs over my bike, then Mr. Vince runs over my skateboard. What’s next?”

I eye her. “Got Rollerblades?”

She laughs. “No, but if I did, I’d leave them in the closet!”

Now, while she’s talking, she’s kinda glancing away from me, looking to the right. And she keeps glancing to the right as we walk along, so I do, too. And I’m sorry, but I don’t see what’s so doggone interesting about a one-story tract house with a sort of patchy lawn.

And then we pass by the mailbox.

“Urbanski?” I ask, my eyes bugging out as I read the faded letters on the side of the mailbox. “This is Danny’s house?”

“Shhh!” she says frantically. “Be cool! And keep walking!”

I grab her arm. “Marissa, how can you not be over him? After everything he’s done to you? He’s a liar and a sneak … and you hated him! Remember during the summer when you saw him kissing Heather?”

“I know,” she cries, her face crinkling up.

“Oh, good grief.” I pull her by the wrist. “I can’t believe you’re stalking him!”

“I’m not stalking him! He’s not even out of school yet!”

Which was true. The high school lets out forty minutes after we do.

So I stop and look at her and ask, “Okaaaaaay … so what are we doing? Stalking his house?”

“No!”

“Then … ?”

“I don’t know!” she wails. “I just can’t help it. He lives there. He walks here. He … he breathes this air!”

I shake my head and yank her along. “You’re obsessed, you know that?” I look at her. “How often do you do this?”

She shrugs.

“Like, every time I don’t walk home with you?”

She shrugs again, but there’s something more to it than just a Yeah.

“Wait … you come this way in the morning, too?”

She cringes. “Sometimes.”

I stop and turn to face her. “This is crazy, you know that.”

She nods.

“You have to stop it!”

“I know.”

“Is that why you took me this way? Because you wanted me to catch you stalking his house?”

“I’m not stalking his house! And no!” She marches on, muttering, “I can’t believe you even noticed.”

“Are you kidding me? An avalanche would have been more subtle!” I frown at her. “And if you weren’t trying to tell me, then I can’t believe you’ve been keeping this from me.

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