Sammy Keyes and the Wild Things Read Online Free

fascinating. Not that she has a granny crush on him or anything—she’d better not. He’s only about forty and she’s . . . well, she wouldn’t want me to say. But anyway, I’m sure it’s not him—I think it’s his hair. It’s all feathery and sort of permanently swooped back. Like the wind is his stylist.
    Anyway, so Grams had no problem signing the papers. But by the time I’d collected everything I needed, trudged back over to Cricket’s, and had Gary’s backpack fully loaded, it was nine-thirty and I was exhausted. And since we had to be back at Robin’s early in the morning, and since there was no way I wanted to try sneaking into the Senior Highrise with a load of camping gear, the only thing that made sense was for me to spend the night at Cricket’s.
    Gary never came out of his room. Not that I saw, anyway. Cricket’s dad came home from work around eight, poked his head in to say hello, then disappeared to his own corner of the house. There were no pets, no sounds, no music . . . but Cricket gave the house life. She chattered about everything and seemed so excited to have me there. Like I was her first sleepover or something.
    Finally I said, “Cricket, I’m so tired. Where can I crash?”
    â€œOh! Right there!” she said, pointing to her bed.
    â€œNo way,” I told her. Then I asked, “Is there a couch?” because that’s exactly what I sleep on at home.
    â€œNo, really, Sammy. I never use the bed.” She slid her closet door open about two feet, crawled inside, then peeked out at me and smiled. “This is where I sleep!”
    At first I thought she was joking, but then I saw that she was totally set up inside her closet. She had a thin mattress that bowed up against the wall and the sliding doors, a sleeping bag, a big flashlight, a small stack of books, an alarm clock, a hugged-to-death stuffed deer, and a bottle of water. The only thing that didn’t seem to belong was a pair of Rollerblades crammed in a corner at the foot of her mattress.
    â€œWow,” I said, truly amazed. “You really do like camping, don’t you?”
    â€œI even have
stars
in here. Check it out!”
    â€œStars?” This I had to see. So I crawled in beside her, and after she closed the door, I could see glow-in-the-dark stars and moons shining faintly from the inside of the door.
    â€œCool, huh?” she said, opening the door again. “So see? You get the bed.” She grinned. “Sorry.”
    So I slept in a bed for the first time in ages. It was a
great
bed, too, with soft, fluffy covers and pillows and the faint scent of bleach. And flowers . . .
    And I was in the middle of having this great dream about floating through the air on a current of puffy white dandelions . . . just drifting up, down, gliding gently through the air . . . when suddenly
clingidy-cling-cling-clang
Cricket’s alarm blew the closet door open and booted Cricket into the room.
    â€œHuh?” I said, totally disoriented.
    Cricket flicked on the light. “Let’s go camping!”

THREE                                                                                                                                                                                    
    Cricket’s “troop” turned out to be the most un-Girl-Scoutish group of girls I’d ever seen. Not a patch or