ONE I was almost looking forward to eighth grade starting. Not because I missed getting up early or couldn't wait to be saddled with homework again. Please. No, I was looking forward to school starting up again for the only reason anyone in junior high looks forward to it. I'd get to see my friends every day. My best friend, Marissa, was ready, too. Her family is in crisis mode, and I think going back to school seemed like a way for her to escape all that. Plus, we'd be eighth graders instead of lowly seventh graders, and last year's stress of being at a new school would be totally gone. But then the first day of school arrived, and I got my final schedule. "No!" I cried when I saw it. "What?" Marissa asked. "I've got Mr. Vince! For homeroom and history!" "Eew," she said as she inspected my schedule. "Bad way to start the day." Then I leaned over to see her schedule and saw that we only had one class together--drama, at the very end of the day. "No!" I cried again. "This is the worst schedule ever!" Our friends Dot and Holly joined us, and I found out that they had three classes the same as Marissa . . . and that all of them had some guy named Mr. Jefferson for history instead of Mr. Vince. "This is so unfair!" "Maybe you can get switched?" Marissa said. So I marched right up to the office. It wasn't just that I had only one class with Marissa, it was that I had only one class with Marissa and they'd stuck me with Mr. Vince. Mr. Vince! Let's just say that there was no way I would survive the year with Bad Mood Bob. And that's not just because he hates kids. He may teach history, but he and I have history. Last year he covered up a total sabotage of my softball team by one of his players so his team could play at the Sluggers' Cup. That may not seem like a big deal to you, but in Santa Martina, the Sluggers' Cup is huge, and since I was part of why his little shenanigans backfired, anywhere near him is now definitely enemy territory. So, yeah. As Grams would say, I had good grounds to demand a change. Trouble is, when I got to the office, I found out from the office lady that my counselor couldn't see me. "She's swamped, sweetie," Mrs. Tweeter said with a tisk. She leaned forward and whispered, "She's new this year, so have a little patience, all right?" "But she put me in Mr. Vince's class!" Her eyes did some rapid-fire blinking over the tops of her reading glasses, and I could tell she was remembering the Sluggers' Cup fiasco. "Oh my." "Exactly!" She took a prim breath and a little step back. "Well, Mr. Vince is a professional, dear. And if you stay on your best behavior--" "No! This will never work!" I looked past her to the vice principal's office door. "Can I please see Mr. Caan? He'll straighten this out." "Hmm. I would see about that," she said, drawing out the words, "but Mr. Caan no longer works here." "He what? Wait. Why not?" "Didn't you read the August newsletter, dear? He's now principal at the high school. Mr. Foxmore is our new vice principal." "Mr. Caan is at the high school?" "That's right, dear." She gives me a cheery smile. "So you'll reunite with him next year." "Well, what about Dr. Morlock?" I ask. "Can I see him?" She looks at me like, You're kidding, right? because Dr. Morlock is a totally absentee principal. I only saw him about three times last year, but one of those was at the Sluggers' Cup tournament, so he knows about me and Mr. Vince. "He's not even here?" "He was, dear, but he had a meeting." She reaches to answer the ringing phone. "I'm afraid you'll have to wait your turn to see Miss Anderson, just like everyone else. I'm sorry." I left there so frustrated that even the janitor noticed. "Hey, hey, hold on now, Sammy," he said, catching up to me. "What's wrong?" Excerpted from Sammy Keyes and the Wedding Crasher by Wendelin Van Draanen All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
