Sammy Keyes and the Runaway Elf by Wendelin Van Draanen Page B

evil little smile—like I had something up my sleeve. Something big.
    Her face pinched up and she said, “What?”
    I didn’t even blink.
    “Hey, what’s your problem?”
    I just kept smiling.
    When Mrs. Ambler was done with the Pledge and the announcements, she held up a small cardboard box and shook it. “Okay, class, it’s time to pick Kris Kringles. Remember, you don’t have to do much to be appreciated. A little note in the desk, a goody delivered through a friend—nothing expensive. It’s the thought that counts. Friday we’ll exchange gifts at the cafeteria party. No gift is to exceed five dollars.” She shook the box and started at Marissa’s end of the classroom. “Keep them to yourselves and remember,no swapping! If you get someone you don’t know very well, this is a great way to make a new friend.”
    By the time she came up my row, there wasn’t much left shaking around in that box of hers. I reached in and pulled out Rudy Folksmeir’s name, and at first I thought, Oh, no! I mean, Rudy likes dirt. At least, that’s all I ever hear him talk about. He and his friends go out dirt bike riding a lot, and he’s always talking about how hard the dirt was or how soft it was, or about how awesome it is, blowing through clouds of dirt. Not only is dirt the main word in Rudy Folksmeir’s vocabulary, it’s also a big part of his wardrobe. It usually says DIRT somewhere on his T-shirt, he wears it on his shoes and his jeans, and if there aren’t clumps of it hanging off of him somewhere, he just looks dirty. Like he ripped up a vacant lot on his way to school.
    So while part of me is trying to figure out whether or not I should leave little Baggies of dirt in Rudy’s desk, a tickle in my brain makes me look straight up at Heather Acosta and give her that evil little smile again.
    Well, she does a double take. So I look back down at Rudy’s name and then at her again.
    She sits there blinking for a minute, then shoots out of her seat and says, “Mrs. Ambler! Mrs. Ambler, you have to do this again.… I … I …”
    Mrs. Ambler stops and says, “For heaven’s sake, why?”
    She stands there, trying to come up with a reason. Finally she says, “I … I got myself. And I think a couple other people did, too.”
    Mrs. Ambler hesitates, then says to the class, “Did anybody else get themselves?”
    Nobody says a word.
    “Hmm.” Mrs. Ambler shrugs. “Well, I have one left over, because Renée’s absent. Let’s just switch yours with hers.”
    Heather says, “But …”
    Mrs. Ambler looks her straight in the eye. “But what, Heather?”
    Heather blinks at her a minute, but what can she do? Finally she says, “Nothing, Mrs. Ambler,” and switches slips. And when she looks over her shoulder at me, I give her that little smile again and tuck Rudy’s name in my folder.
    Now, to tell you the truth, I had no idea what I was doing. But all day long I found myself going out of my way to follow Heather. Instead of avoiding her like I usually do, I’d run clear around buildings so I could walk behind her. And when she’d notice me, I’d just stare at her like I was going to get her.
    By the end of the day, she was checking over her shoulder for me, walking faster and faster between classes, looking really unhappy.
    Me, I was feeling like a bumblebee at a barbecue.
    On my way home, I was so busy thinking about how amazing it was that what I’d done had freaked Heather out so much that I was a block past Landview Elementary before I remembered I was supposed to pick up Elyssa.
    I ran back and found her sitting on the top step, waiting. And when she saw me coming, she grabbed her papers and lunchbox and came charging toward me, calling, “Sammy!”
    I laughed and put out my hand, and the whole way to the nursing home she talked about the class hamster,Snowball, and how this kid Shane had emptied the pencil sharpener into his cage and turned him all black. It seemed like in no time we were there,