Sammy Keyes and the Psycho Kitty Queen by Wendelin Van Draanen Page A

Mom, but you're sort of self-absorbed.”
    “I am not!”
    I laughed. “You don't know about Hudson, and you don't know about Heather. I think that says it all.”
    When I sat down, Grams said, “There you are!” Then she reached into her purse and pulled out a small rectangular box. It was white with a gold ribbon, and she slid it across the table to me, saying, “This is from your mother and me. We really hope you like it… and will
wear
it.”
    I looked from Grams to my mother and back again. Then I checked across the dining room to the Acosta table. Heather was up to her ears in tissue paper, but I didn't care. I liked my little box with the gold ribbon. And I liked that Heather wouldn't know I was opening a gift—there was no way I wanted her to know we shared a birthday.
    I rattled the box a little, trying to figure out what it was. If my mom was involved, it was probably some sort of dainty jewelry. But if Grams was behind it, it was probably something more practical.
    “Just open it!” my mom said with a laugh.
    So I did. And what was inside was the most amazing thing—a softball watch. The minute hand was a bat, the hour hand was a ball, and a baseball diamond connected the 12, 3, 6, and 9.
    “This is so cool!” I said, strapping it on. “I love this!”
    Grams clapped her hands and said, “I knew you would!” and since I could tell it was her idea, I gave her the biggest smooch ever on her cheek. She kissed me back and said, “I'm hoping it'll help get you home on time.”
    I laughed. “It's gotta help.”
    I showed it off to Hudson, who said, “A home-run watch—very nice!”
    Then I noticed that my mother was looking kind of hurt. And since the watch was supposedly from her, too, I said, “Thank you, too, Mom.” I held my wrist out to her. “Isn't it cool?”
    She smiled and sort of shook her head. “I don't know how you can tell time with that, but I'm glad you like it.”
    So for a moment there, I was just actually
liking
my birthday. But then a bunch of waiters and waitresses marched through the tables singing, “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you…,” and I froze. Could they know it was my birthday? Yes! Hudson had mentioned it when we were seated. But… maybe not. The waiter had barely paid attention.
    I let out a huge sigh of relief when I saw that they weren't headed for our table—they were going to Heather's. And when they put the piece of cake in front of her, she looked my way to make sure I'd noticed thatshe was queen for the day. And—this is how relieved I was—I actually acknowledged by giving her a little smile and a wave.
    But all of a sudden the waiters start singing again, and that's when I see that they've got
another
piece of cake.
    Everything warps into slow motion. Their bodies moving toward me, their voices distorted and stretched out as they sing, “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you…”
    My heart starts racing, and I want to charge out of there, but it's too late—the waiters are already at our table.
    I check the Acostas, and sure enough, they're looking at us. And although Casey seems puzzled in an amused sort of way, Heather's chin has dropped to her chest and her eyes are as big as baseballs. And then, when the waiters put the cake down in front of me, she actually shoots out of her seat and screams, “No!”
    Her mother yanks her down and has some frantic conversation with her that spreads to Mr. Acosta and then to Casey. And even though Mr. Acosta's shrugging like, What's the big deal? and Casey's grinning like the pages of
Mad
magazine are coming to life in front of him, Heather and her mother are looking downright savage.
    I wanted to shout at Heather, Hey! I don't like this any better than you! But inside I knew—no matter what I said, no matter what I did—in the end, there'd be no escaping her.
    Heather didn't come after me right then. But I knewthere'd be fallout, probably at school. Not that it was
my
fault that we had