Taffy Sinclair 009 - The Truth About Taffy Sinclair by Betsy Haynes Page A
Authors: Betsy Haynes
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Shark alert. Shark alert. Here comes Curtis Trowbridge and I think he ' s heading for us. "
" Oh, no, " I groaned. Curtis Trowbridge was the nerdiest person alive and being seen talking to him was totally embarrassing. But here he came anyway, straight toward us. He was walking along with his glasses bouncing on his nose and a pencil stuck behind his left ear, and he was concentrating on the notepad he always carried when he did interviews for the Mark Twain Sentinel. Curtis was sixth-grade editor of the paper.
" Hi, girls, " said Curtis in a crackling voice. " You ' re two of the people I want to see. "
" Great, " Alexis muttered, but Curtis didn ' t seem to hear.
" I ' m having a graduation party at my house Friday night, and you ' re both invited. "
Alexis and I exchanged wide-eyed looks of horror. A graduation party? At Curtis Trowbridge ' s house? I couldn ' t think of anything worse.
" I don ' t know if I can make it, " I said, feeling suddenly grateful to my mother. " I may have to audition for a part in a television commercial. "
" Gee, Taffy. That ' s too bad, " said Curtis. He looked genuinely sorry. " Everybody else who I ' ve talked to is coming. How about you, Alexis? "
Alexis shrugged. " Well . . ." she stammered. " If everybody else is coming . . ."
" Great! " cried Curtis. " I ' ll put you down as a ' yes ' . " He made some marks in his notepad, pushed up his glasses with a finger, and then turned around and went zipping off in the direction of Lisa Snow and Kim Baxter, who were standing by the swings.
" Do you really think everyone will be there? " I asked Alexis.
" They had better be, " she said with a frown.
I tried to act casual as I sauntered up the sidewalk with Alexis, but secretly I was looking around for Randy Kirwan. He would be easy to spot since he was the handsomest boy in Mark Twain Elementary, with dark, wavy hair and big blue eyes. I had to find out if he was going to Curtis ' s party. There was no way to know how often I would see him over the summer, if I would even see him at all. So if he was going to the party, I had to go, too. It might be my last chance for a long time to take him away from Jana Morgan.
Before I could spot Randy anywhere on the playground, the first bell rang. " Rats! " I mumbled under my breath and headed for my locker. Maybe I would get the chance to talk to him at recess.
There was absolute pandemonium in the hall where the sixth-grade lockers stood. Kids were jerking their locker doors open and shrieking to each other. I tried to ignore the chaos as I headed for my own locker. It ' s just end of the year hysteria, I thought with disgust. You wouldn ' t catch me acting so juvenile.
Yesterday Miss Wiggins, our sixth-grade teacher, had collected all the locks and instructed us to bring paper bags to school today. We were supposed to clean out our lockers and take home everything we wouldn ' t need for the last few days of class. I sighed as I pulled my locker door open. I had forgotten my bag, and I had a ton of things to take home. Things I didn ' t especially want anyone else to see. I certainly didn ' t want to stack them on my desk and take the chance of somebody ' s poking through them when I wasn ' t looking. Maybe I would call Mother and ask her to drop off a grocery bag for me.
Slowly I focused on the inside of my locker. Something was wrong. It was a mess. A total mess! I never left my things like that. I always kept my locker neat. I bent down, grabbing books and papers from out of the jumble. " These aren ' t mine, " I whispered incredulously.
There were drawings of tanks and airplanes. A math book with Matt Zeboski ' s name in it. Marcie Bee ' s spelling paper with the one and only A she had ever gotten in spelling on it. It was the paper she kept taped inside her locker door.
I looked around helplessly at all the other kids scrambling through the things in their lockers and pitching them onto the floor. Suddenly I understood what was going
" Oh, no, " I groaned. Curtis Trowbridge was the nerdiest person alive and being seen talking to him was totally embarrassing. But here he came anyway, straight toward us. He was walking along with his glasses bouncing on his nose and a pencil stuck behind his left ear, and he was concentrating on the notepad he always carried when he did interviews for the Mark Twain Sentinel. Curtis was sixth-grade editor of the paper.
" Hi, girls, " said Curtis in a crackling voice. " You ' re two of the people I want to see. "
" Great, " Alexis muttered, but Curtis didn ' t seem to hear.
" I ' m having a graduation party at my house Friday night, and you ' re both invited. "
Alexis and I exchanged wide-eyed looks of horror. A graduation party? At Curtis Trowbridge ' s house? I couldn ' t think of anything worse.
" I don ' t know if I can make it, " I said, feeling suddenly grateful to my mother. " I may have to audition for a part in a television commercial. "
" Gee, Taffy. That ' s too bad, " said Curtis. He looked genuinely sorry. " Everybody else who I ' ve talked to is coming. How about you, Alexis? "
Alexis shrugged. " Well . . ." she stammered. " If everybody else is coming . . ."
" Great! " cried Curtis. " I ' ll put you down as a ' yes ' . " He made some marks in his notepad, pushed up his glasses with a finger, and then turned around and went zipping off in the direction of Lisa Snow and Kim Baxter, who were standing by the swings.
" Do you really think everyone will be there? " I asked Alexis.
" They had better be, " she said with a frown.
I tried to act casual as I sauntered up the sidewalk with Alexis, but secretly I was looking around for Randy Kirwan. He would be easy to spot since he was the handsomest boy in Mark Twain Elementary, with dark, wavy hair and big blue eyes. I had to find out if he was going to Curtis ' s party. There was no way to know how often I would see him over the summer, if I would even see him at all. So if he was going to the party, I had to go, too. It might be my last chance for a long time to take him away from Jana Morgan.
Before I could spot Randy anywhere on the playground, the first bell rang. " Rats! " I mumbled under my breath and headed for my locker. Maybe I would get the chance to talk to him at recess.
There was absolute pandemonium in the hall where the sixth-grade lockers stood. Kids were jerking their locker doors open and shrieking to each other. I tried to ignore the chaos as I headed for my own locker. It ' s just end of the year hysteria, I thought with disgust. You wouldn ' t catch me acting so juvenile.
Yesterday Miss Wiggins, our sixth-grade teacher, had collected all the locks and instructed us to bring paper bags to school today. We were supposed to clean out our lockers and take home everything we wouldn ' t need for the last few days of class. I sighed as I pulled my locker door open. I had forgotten my bag, and I had a ton of things to take home. Things I didn ' t especially want anyone else to see. I certainly didn ' t want to stack them on my desk and take the chance of somebody ' s poking through them when I wasn ' t looking. Maybe I would call Mother and ask her to drop off a grocery bag for me.
Slowly I focused on the inside of my locker. Something was wrong. It was a mess. A total mess! I never left my things like that. I always kept my locker neat. I bent down, grabbing books and papers from out of the jumble. " These aren ' t mine, " I whispered incredulously.
There were drawings of tanks and airplanes. A math book with Matt Zeboski ' s name in it. Marcie Bee ' s spelling paper with the one and only A she had ever gotten in spelling on it. It was the paper she kept taped inside her locker door.
I looked around helplessly at all the other kids scrambling through the things in their lockers and pitching them onto the floor. Suddenly I understood what was going
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