Theft!

Saramus Dent could not be found. The Green Forces looked everywhere: under the radioactive blue boulders and in every Litecraft at the dock. Without him there, they didn’t really have anything to do. They couldn’t really even talk. Just stand there, awkwardly, waiting for the Blue Forces to come and get them. It was kind of . . . boring. And dangerous.

Seriously, where was Saramus?!

They had no idea.

The next day at school, my backpack slumps in front of my locker as I reach inside it to get my algebra book. All morning, my skin has prickled with sweat. My heart jumps in my throat every time someone looks at me or I get called on in class. Every second feels like I’m about to start running a race or take a hard test. The reason? I’m afraid of running into Samantha Cho. Overnight, my slight worry has become a full-on panic.

Earlier that morning as I crossed the walkway towards the front doors, I saw her. Samantha Cho. She was walking right in front of me. I would recognize the swish of her black hair anywhere. Not to mention her backpack covered with stickers and pins with math symbols on them. Gulp. Hildy’s words from the day before kept echoing in my head. “A certain someone knows how you feel.” I didn’t just freeze in place. I made a sharp turn to the left and hid behind one of the big potted trees that stands next to the Halsey School doors. I pretended to look at my phone. As I hid there, I blinked and felt the points of the tree’s sharp leaves digging into my cheek. I imagined Saramus Dent watching this scene and shaking his head. Dude. This is not cool

I’ve known Samantha ever since third grade. The first time she spoke to me was during Mrs. Zerluski’s class. She leaned over and whispered the answer to a long division problem I had been staring at. She must have noticed that my Blink Until You Get It approach was not working. (Let’s just say math and I are not friends.) I showed her a little cartoon I had been drawing with captions telling the story. She smiled.

From then on, we sometimes sat together at lunch. We had been kinda sorta friends for years until two things happened:

One, suddenly, I became so aware that she was a GIRL (and a really kinda cute girl).

Two, for reasons I still can’t understand, she started sitting with the Doomsday Geeks. Even if I could work up the courage to talk to her like the old days, I usually just get talked over or called a “noob.” I mean, I always thought I was good with words, but what’s a noob?!

Now I’m pretty sure I’ll never be able to talk to her. After math class comes lunch, and there’s no way I can sit at her table. I’ll just have to sit in the hallway or something like that. Plus, what if other kids find out? I can’t imagine the other Doomsday Geeks have even registered that a female human person has been sitting at their table for months now. . . . If Stella Sweet finds out, though, I’m done for. Even though I barely know her, she’ll spread that rumor all through the sixth grade. The Human Gossip Traps, I call the Sweets in my notebook. With a sigh, I fumble for that very same notebook in my locker, except it isn’t there. I check my bag. Not there either. I check my locker and bag again. And then a third time. I even check my pockets, despite knowing that they are way too small to hold a notebook.

My heart sinks to the bottom of my stomach. My face feels like someone has blasted it full-on with a blasto-gun—prickles of sweat break out across my cheeks.

The notebook is gone.

My Adventures of Saramus Dent and every random

thought of my days and every doodle and every time I drew a scribble of darkly-penciled fangs around the name “Stella Sweet” or wrote the words Samantha Cho . . . every note and complaint and story for a whole year . . . All gone.