Sammy Keyes and the Runaway Elf (19 page)

Hudson flipped on the operating lights. “How about an oil can?”

“An oil can?”

“Any biker worth his dirt is going to appreciate one of these.”

I was expecting a container of oil. Like what goes in an engine. What Hudson got down from a shelf, though, was a shiny copper can that looked like a cross between an inkwell and a candle holder. He handed it to me and said, “Most folks don’t use them anymore, but I haven’t found anything better for lubing joints and getting into tight places. Trust me, your friend Rudy will like it.”

I laughed. “If you say so.”

He winked at me. “I say so.”

So we gave it a real festive wrap in a paper sack, and as I was stuffing it in my backpack he noticed my present for Heather, wrapped in shiny red paper. His eyebrows popped up a little. “For someone a little less dirt-conscious …?”

I laughed, then showed him how I’d wrapped the lid separate from the box and how Grams’ old kitchen timer was sitting inside. He rubbed his chin a bit, so I gave the timer a twist, then put the box together. “It’s for Heather.”

He threw his head back and laughed. “Her tell-tale heart!”

I ran down his steps calling, “Wish me luck. I think I’m going to need it!”

The last day of school before Christmas vacation is probably the best day of the whole school year. You don’t do anything academic—most teachers are smarter than that. Everyone’s in a good mood because vacation’s coming, Christmas is coming, and sugar is everywhere.

And at William Rose Junior High, they don’t even make you go back to class after the gift exchange. You just hang out in the cafeteria for a while and then you get to go home.

Anyhow, by the time the gift exchange rolled around, Marissa, Holly, Dot, and I were so hyped up on candy canes and chocolate that we were actually excited about making idiots of ourselves in front of the whole school. And while the rest of the kids piled into the cafeteria to watch our vice principal, Mr. Caan, play the role of Santa, we snuck into the bathroom to get ready.

Holly and I checked the stalls to make sure there were no smokers standing on toilets waiting to flick their Bics,
while Dot pulled out a tube of white face paint and Marissa emptied a sack of robes. She held one up and said, “Is this what you had in mind, Sammy?”

I couldn’t believe it. “Those are perfect!”

She giggled. “I know!”

Holly put one on and flipped up the hood. “Where in the world did you find these?”

“My cousin Brandon. I guess at the high school they do this thing every year during Red Ribbon Week where the Students Against Drunk Driving dress up as Death. It’s supposed to demonstrate how often people get killed by drunk drivers.”

I put mine on and said, “These are
way
better than I expected.”

Marissa grinned. “You wanted black, you got black.”

Dot smeared our faces with white paint and then put heavy black circles under our eyes. Then she decided she wanted to paint our hands white and put some black around our fingernails. When we finally looked at each other in the mirror we jumped back a little. We looked scary!

I turned Grams’ timer on and stuck it in the red box while Holly and Marissa got their empty presents ready. When we were done, Dot lined us up and said, “You guys are the scariest Three Kings I’ve ever seen!”

I laughed and said, “Remember, we have to take ourselves seriously or this will never work. We sure look like Death. Now all we have to do is act like Death and
think
like Death.”

So we all practiced looking real serious and, you know, like Death. And after a few minutes of practicing, I said,
“Okay, Dot, you better wait by the front doors on the off chance Officer Borsch decides to show up.”

She nodded and said, “If he comes, I’ll get him to the cafeteria,” then looked at her watch. “If you told him twelve-thirty we better hurry. It’s twelve-thirty now.”

The teachers in the cafeteria were so busy laughing at Santa Caan be-bopping to “Jingle Bell Rock” that they didn’t even notice us walking by.

Heather didn’t notice us either. We circled around her so that we could maneuver her toward the door, and it wasn’t until we were about ten feet from her that Monet grabbed her arm and said, “Look!”

We didn’t say a word, we just came at her, three across, with me out front a little. All of a sudden, “Jingle Bells” quit rocking and the cafeteria went quiet. I held my little red box out to Heather, and it seemed really loud, ticking away.

She took a few steps back and tried to laugh. “You guys are crazy …!” But we kept coming at her, slowly, with empty eyes.

Panic skated across her face, and I figured it was now or never. I held the box a little higher and said in a real monotone voice, “Heather Acosta, your time has come.”

Heather put her hands up and said, “You guys have taken this way too seriously! It was just a prank, okay? Get over it!”

We kept coming.

“Hey, Sammy, back off! What are you doing? I’m sorry, okay?”

I kept coming at her.

She blinked a bunch, then looked over her shoulder for a place to run.

That’s when she saw Officer Borsch. That’s when
I
saw Officer Borsch. And for a minute I almost forgot I was playing Death and smiled. Heather took one last look at me, then charged over to him screaming, “Stop them! They’re trying to kill me! They’ve got … they’ve got a bomb!”

Officer Borsch just stood there, rock-steady, not saying a word.

“Stop her! Oh my God, why don’t you stop her!”

I kept coming.

He looked down at her and said, “Heather Acosta, your time has come.”

She looked at him in disbelief and then got down on her knees and hugged his leg. “I didn’t mean any harm! I said I was sorry! What more do you want?” She started crying. “You can’t let them kill me over a few stupid cats!”

I took off my hood and smiled at Officer Borsch. “She’s all yours.”

Heather looked at him and then at me, and you could see it sinking in. I took the lid off my box and said, “I’d give you this as a gift, but really, I’m not your KK. I’ve heard Cindy Ruiz is. Besides, I’ve got to get this timer back to my grandmother. She’s got pies to bake.”

By now Mr. Caan had shown up, and he escorted us out of there. And while Heather was blubbering all over our jolly old vice principal, trying to convince him what a terrorist I was, I thanked Officer Borsch for showing up and then said, “What are you going to do with her?”

He shrugged. “Ruffle her feathers some. Introduce her
to a horse—show her how heavy they are. I don’t know. I have to give it some thought.” He chuckled and said, “I really didn’t think I’d have the opportunity to do anything, but I’m glad I decided to come.”

“What changed your mind, anyway?”

He looked away, and I realized he wasn’t turning red from anger—he was blushing.

“What? What happened?”

He shrugged. “Debra overheard our conversation and accused me of being an old fart.”

“Debra?” I almost blurted, You mean the Vagrant Dodo? but instead, I buttoned my lip, swirled my hand around my head, and said, “You mean the lady with the … um … the
hair?
”

He nodded, then said, “And here I thought I’d be going back with proof that this was the wackiest idea anyone had ever come up with.” He said through a chuckle, “You always manage to surprise me, Samantha.”

I laughed, then said, “Oh! By the way … is the guy that’s been roasting you at work named Andy Hicks?”

Officer Borsch squinted at me. “How
do
you find this stuff out?”

I shrugged. “Elyssa’s mom said something about it.”

Officer Borsch scowled. “He’s the one, all right.” He hiked up his gun belt and said, “I know you probably think I have no sense of humor, but you’re wrong. I’ve just got no sense of humor where Andy Hicks is concerned. He’s a bad seed.”

“Like crooked?”

He hesitated, then decided to tell me. “Jim Keltner
and I tried to prove it a few years back, but we got nowhere.”

I dug out the page from Mrs. Landvogt’s bible and gave it to him. “Well, Merry Christmas.”

The more he read, the more bridgework he showed. Finally he whispered, “Where did you
get
this?”

“Let’s just say I snatched it from the jaws of a crocodile.” I smiled at him. “It’s all yours. Have fun.”

He just stood there blinking at me, so I laughed and said, “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a gift to deliver.”

Now, Santa Caan was not about to let me scoot off without an explanation. He corrals Officer Borsch and the rest of us together, and for once, I let Officer Borsch do all the talking. And when he had straightened everything out, the three of us charged off to the bathroom to get cleaned up.

When we returned to the cafeteria, it was like nothing had happened. People were laughing and dancing and sucking on candy canes, and over in the corner I spotted Rudy Folksmeir with a couple of his buddies, talking dirt.

I gave him the brown bag and said, “Merry Christmas, Rudy.”

He opened it up kind of suspiciously, but all of a sudden his face broke into a giant smile. “Cool! Wow, guys, look at this!” He turned it over a couple of times and said, “Sammy, this is way cool!”

His friends put down their plastic canes of M&M’s and said, “Dude, check it out!”

I laughed and said, “Glad you like it,” and all of a sudden it felt like Christmas inside—warm and happy and kind of peaceful.

Then there was this little voice behind me, saying, “Sammy? Sammy, here. This is for you.”

I turned around, and there, smiling at me through her bangs, was Cassie Kuo. She pushed a shiny red package into my hands and said, “Merry Christmas.”

“You’re my KK?”

She nodded and asked, “Aren’t you going to open it?”

“Oh! Oh, sure.” So I ripped off the wrapping and popped open the box, and what I pulled out of the tissue paper was a round ornament that spelled SAMMY around the top hemisphere and SAMMY upside down around the bottom hemisphere. It was glittery white and dangled from a red velvet ribbon, and the whole thing was made out of macaroni. I held it up and said, “Cassie, I can’t believe this. Where did you get it? Did you
make
it?”

She nodded and practically wagged her tail. “Do you like it? Really?”

“It’s amazing! I can’t believe …” I looked right at her. “Where did you learn to do this?”

She looked around like she was afraid someone might hear. “Girl Scouts.”

“
Girl
Scouts?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But it’s really fun. We do crafts and go camping and hiking. Do you … do
you
like camping?” I could see hope right through that curtain of hair. Then she looked down and said, “You seem like you would.”

“I … I don’t know. I’ve never been.”

“You’ve never
been?
Boy, you’re missing out! You should come with us sometime. It is
so
much fun.”

I tucked the ornament safely in the box. “Um …”

She whispered, “You wouldn’t have to
join
, just talk to your mom—ask her if you can come along sometime.”

My mom. Right. But I wasn’t about to get into
that
, so I smiled and said, “Uh, yeah. Maybe so.”

She kind of nodded over my shoulder and said, “Well, Marissa and them are waiting for you, so I’d better let you go.” She smiled and said, “Merry Christmas!”

I stopped her. “Cassie?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m … I’m glad you were my KK. Thank you.”

She smiled. “I’m glad, too. ’Bye!”

And it’s funny. As soon as she scampered off I felt sad. Lonely. And even though I had friends waiting for me to join them, Cassie bringing up my mom made me realize that I couldn’t just have fun hanging around with them when school let out.

There was something else I had to do.

I stared at her door for a long time. And when I did put the key in and turn the knob, it felt strange. Like I was Mrs. Graybill.

I went in and just sat on her sofa and thought. About her. About Billy McCabe. About how miserable she’d made herself, trying to make her sister feel bad.

Then I started thinking about the Crocodile and the whole Landvogt mess. How she’d treated Tina, and how Tina had turned into a blackmailer, just like her mom.

And through it all I could hear Hudson talking. Talking about forgiveness.

Then I did something I’ve tried for over a year
not
to do. I thought about my mother. About how she’d dumped me at Grams’. About the bad dreams I’d had and all the tears I’d cried because I’d missed her so much. About her promise to be back soon. About how, just when I was getting used to not hearing from her, there would be her voice on the line, telling me she loved me.

And I thought about how, when you got right down to it, what she’d done was desert me to become the GasAway Lady.

And as I sat there on Mrs. Graybill’s couch, I started crying. First just a little, then like Elyssa had at the
graveyard. And somehow I wound up with one of Mrs. Graybill’s afghans wrapped around me, warm and soft, like arms comforting me.

When I was done watering her apartment, I let out a deep sigh and knew that there was only one way
not
to turn out like Mrs. Graybill, or worse, the Crocodile or Tina.