Sammy Keyes and the Wedding Crasher by Wendelin Van Draanen Page A

bell and clasps his hands on top of his desk like he’s a good little boy.
    Now, I’d had Ms. Needer’s class right before break, so I might have tried to figure out if there was any symbolism to the chicken hat. After all, Billy had basically said that anyone who wouldn’t say that Mr. Vince’s class needed guest speakers was a chicken.
    But Billy isn’t into symbolism.
    He’s into fun.
    And he was obviously back to being the Billy we all knew and loved.
    “Mr. Pratt,” Mr. Vince sighed after a long eye pinch. “The hat.”
    “Yes, sir; thank you, sir; you like it, sir? It’s my thinking cap.”
    Mr. Vince gives him a hard look. “Obviously, it’s not working.” He jabs a finger against the top of his desk. “Up here with it. Now.”
    So Billy delivers the hat. And the funny thing is, he doesn’t make any goofy faces or cute remarks, he just puts the hat on Mr. Vince’s desk and goes back to his seat.
    Mr. Vince studies him for a moment. “Mr. Foxmore briefed me on your infraction yesterday. Where’s your cell phone?”
    Billy hoists his backpack and pats the front pocket. “Zip-a-dee-doo-dah’d away, sir!” he says with a salute.
    Mr. Vince scratches an elbow and says, “Well, I think it’d be a good idea if it was up here, too.”
    Billy blinks at him. “But—”
    “
Now
, Mr. Pratt,” the Nasty Scratcher demands.
    So Billy shuffles up to his desk again and puts his cell phone next to his chicken hat.
    Mr. Vince snorts at him, then says, “Now maybe we can get some work done in here,” as he hands out a crossword puzzle. “This is due by the end of class. No talking.”
    When our stack gets passed down our row, Sasha immediately raises her hand. And when Mr. Vince finally gives her the go-ahead grunt, she says, “This says chapter two, and we’ve already been tested on chapter two.”
    “It’s good review for the final exam.”
    She turns to me and whispers, “Final exam? That’s not until December!”
    “Can you say busywork?” I whisper back.
    She blinks at me and shakes her head. “Why do we have to put up with this?”
    “Because he’s the teacher … ?”
    “This is so stupid. Someone should
do
something about him. There’s no way he should be getting
paid
for this!” Then she faces forward with a huff.
    And she’s right—the assignment’s a colossal waste of time. Still, I get to work on it, because what choice do I have? But after a few minutes Sasha slips me a note.
    Don’t put your name on your paper.
You do the downs, and I’ll do across.
Then we’ll swap.
    It’s actually a very tempting idea, especially since the assignment is so ridiculous and the clues are really vague.But it’s definitely cheating, and if we get caught, Mr. Vince will nail me.
    Maybe even find a way to suspend me.
    Plus, a pinky swear with Sasha was weird enough. I sure didn’t want to start
cheating
with her. So when she gives me a quick you-in? look, I just shake my head.
    She squints at me like she can’t believe it, then does a sniff of disgust and turns around.
    So, fine. She thinks I’m a wimp.
    Again.
    Whatever. I get busy on the puzzle, but my heart’s not in it, and I keep getting distracted. First by Heather, who seems to be studying everybody in class, one at a time. That, of course, includes me, so I give her a closed smile and the peace sign, which somehow makes her think she should flip me off.
    Then Jake Meers can’t seem to quit digging through his backpack.
    And Lars Teppler whooshes his hair every time he writes down an answer.
    And David Olsen’s foot won’t stop wagging. It’s like a hyper little foot fan. Wag-wag-wag-wag-wag!
    Then Heather uses her sweet-as-pie voice to ask, “Mr. Vince? Could we maybe open some windows? It’s really stuffy in here, don’t you think?”
    And it is, which is funny, considering Cisco had gotten reamed because there’d been a window open all night.
    Mr. Vince grunts an okay, and Heather moves through the classroom like a