Sammy Keyes and the Curse of Moustache Mary by Wendelin Van Draanen Page A
Authors: Wendelin Van Draanen
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the front door again, only this time we walk right through.
Holly tugs on my arm and tries to tell me something, only I don't understand it. Then she wiggles her nose and points to Taylor. I mouth, What? and there she goes again, wiggling and pointing.
Finally, I pull her aside and ask, “What are you saying?”
“He's been smoking.”
I look at her like, So?
“Grass.”
I just stand there, staring at her. Then I whisper, “Marijuana?”
She nods.
“How do you know?”
“Believe me, nothing else smells like that.”
Well, I did believe her. Not because I thought she'd ever smoked it, but because before she moved to our town she'd been in some pretty bad foster homes, and her life hasn't exactly been sheltered.
If I had been alone, I would've turned around and left right then. But Marissa was being swished down the drain by Taylor, and there was no way I was going to let that happen. So we followed them through the foyer, past a formal living room, down the hall, and back to the kitchen. And the funny thing is, there wasn't any smoke in the house at all. It was more like Potpourri Palace. Little dishes of it were everywhere, and the house smelled like roses and apples.
When we got to the kitchen, there were people sitting at the breakfast bar and just kind of hanging around the kitchen eating chips and drinking sodas. And they all seemed friendly and normal, just having a good time talking to each other. Taylor asks Marissa, “Would you like something to drink?”
She shakes her head.
He pops a potato chip in his mouth and says, “This down here's the rec room. You play pool?”
Marissa shakes her head, then looks over her shoulder at me and says, “But Sammy does.”
I look at her like, Why did you say
that?
because I play pool about as well as I embroider. Marissa pulls a face back at me, which means HELP! so what can I do? The ball's already in motion—we're going in.
The rec room wasn't the Edge of the World. It was more like the
shore
of the Edge of the World. People were playing pool and darts, and along one wall there were old video games like Pac-Man and Space Invaders. There were a few beer cans, but Holly's nose wasn't twitching, and we weren't choking on smoke.
Taylor's still got his arm around Marissa, and when we step down into the rec room, who's sitting on a saggy leather couch with a beer in her hand?
Heather.
And I don't know what cooked her carrots more, the sight of me at the party or Taylor's arm around Marissa. She ducks the beer behind the couch like we're her parents, then snaps out of her seat and struts over to us.
Taylor tries to be casual about it, but the fact is that one minute his arm's around Marissa, and the next minute it's not. He says to Heather, “Where's Tenille?”
She looks at him like she's a rotisserie and he's one bald and basted bird. “She had to pee.”
He says, “Be cool, Heather. Be cool,” but she's not about to turn the heat down. She pulls him aside and says, “I can't believe you let them in!” and then sizzles and spatters until finally he puts his hands up and says, “Look, they're here now, so just deal.” Then he sees a guy come in through the sliding glass door with a cigarette in his hand. And even though the guy's got whiskers where Taylor'sstill got fuzz, Taylor calls, “Hey! Outta here with that! No smoking in the house.”
The guy calls, “Hey, dude, where's Karl?”
“He went to get supplies.”
“Dude! I hope he doesn't take as long as he did last time—he was gone for like an
hour,
dude. We're dry out here!”
“He'll be back…Now get out of here with that, man!”
The minute he's gone, Heather's little sidekick Tenille comes stumbling down the steps. She's wearing a dark blue stretch skirt that's shrunk
way
up her legs and heavy black shoes with platform soles. She takes one look at us, then turns to Heather and cracks up. And as she clomps her way over to Heather, she says, “Tell me I'm dreamin',” only it
Holly tugs on my arm and tries to tell me something, only I don't understand it. Then she wiggles her nose and points to Taylor. I mouth, What? and there she goes again, wiggling and pointing.
Finally, I pull her aside and ask, “What are you saying?”
“He's been smoking.”
I look at her like, So?
“Grass.”
I just stand there, staring at her. Then I whisper, “Marijuana?”
She nods.
“How do you know?”
“Believe me, nothing else smells like that.”
Well, I did believe her. Not because I thought she'd ever smoked it, but because before she moved to our town she'd been in some pretty bad foster homes, and her life hasn't exactly been sheltered.
If I had been alone, I would've turned around and left right then. But Marissa was being swished down the drain by Taylor, and there was no way I was going to let that happen. So we followed them through the foyer, past a formal living room, down the hall, and back to the kitchen. And the funny thing is, there wasn't any smoke in the house at all. It was more like Potpourri Palace. Little dishes of it were everywhere, and the house smelled like roses and apples.
When we got to the kitchen, there were people sitting at the breakfast bar and just kind of hanging around the kitchen eating chips and drinking sodas. And they all seemed friendly and normal, just having a good time talking to each other. Taylor asks Marissa, “Would you like something to drink?”
She shakes her head.
He pops a potato chip in his mouth and says, “This down here's the rec room. You play pool?”
Marissa shakes her head, then looks over her shoulder at me and says, “But Sammy does.”
I look at her like, Why did you say
that?
because I play pool about as well as I embroider. Marissa pulls a face back at me, which means HELP! so what can I do? The ball's already in motion—we're going in.
The rec room wasn't the Edge of the World. It was more like the
shore
of the Edge of the World. People were playing pool and darts, and along one wall there were old video games like Pac-Man and Space Invaders. There were a few beer cans, but Holly's nose wasn't twitching, and we weren't choking on smoke.
Taylor's still got his arm around Marissa, and when we step down into the rec room, who's sitting on a saggy leather couch with a beer in her hand?
Heather.
And I don't know what cooked her carrots more, the sight of me at the party or Taylor's arm around Marissa. She ducks the beer behind the couch like we're her parents, then snaps out of her seat and struts over to us.
Taylor tries to be casual about it, but the fact is that one minute his arm's around Marissa, and the next minute it's not. He says to Heather, “Where's Tenille?”
She looks at him like she's a rotisserie and he's one bald and basted bird. “She had to pee.”
He says, “Be cool, Heather. Be cool,” but she's not about to turn the heat down. She pulls him aside and says, “I can't believe you let them in!” and then sizzles and spatters until finally he puts his hands up and says, “Look, they're here now, so just deal.” Then he sees a guy come in through the sliding glass door with a cigarette in his hand. And even though the guy's got whiskers where Taylor'sstill got fuzz, Taylor calls, “Hey! Outta here with that! No smoking in the house.”
The guy calls, “Hey, dude, where's Karl?”
“He went to get supplies.”
“Dude! I hope he doesn't take as long as he did last time—he was gone for like an
hour,
dude. We're dry out here!”
“He'll be back…Now get out of here with that, man!”
The minute he's gone, Heather's little sidekick Tenille comes stumbling down the steps. She's wearing a dark blue stretch skirt that's shrunk
way
up her legs and heavy black shoes with platform soles. She takes one look at us, then turns to Heather and cracks up. And as she clomps her way over to Heather, she says, “Tell me I'm dreamin',” only it
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