Sammy Keyes and the Power of Justice Jack (15 page)

Sure enough, on my way back to my seat she gives me a little nod.

For the rest of class I just sat there thinking, Wow. And even though I tried to convince myself that it was probably all rumors and exaggerations and maybe even lies, Lars
was
absent and he
had
seemed desperate, and I couldn’t help believing that it was probably true.

I also couldn’t help feeling sorry for him.

Sorry for both of them.

I could just see him dashing over on his bike to rescue the fair maiden who was imprisoned in a barn on the outskirts of town. I could picture them frantically escaping in the moonlight, checking over their shoulders, not believing that they were actually getting away.

But there were big nets out there—not just her family, the police. And no matter how hard they pedaled, they’d get caught. Caught and hauled back home.

And then what?

Things would be worse than ever.

By lunch the whole school was talking about it, including Marissa. I guess she was happy to have something to talk about besides her and Billy—or her and Danny—because she was motoring at the mouth about how exciting and
romantic
it was.

Holly was the one to finally hand her a reality check. “You think it’s romantic? It’s December! It’s cold! Where are they going to stay? They’re going to run out of money! They can’t get jobs! What are they going to live on? It’s miserable being on the run with no place to go and nothing to eat!”

And instead of going, Wow. Yeah. I suppose you would know, Marissa says, “They’re in
love
, Holly. It’s not the same as what you went through. Love will get you through anything.”

“Not if you’re hungry and cold,” Holly says, shaking her head.

“Or pregnant,” Dot says.

We all look at her, horrified. For one thing, this is
Dot
, who’s always just sweet and cute and, well, innocent. But also just the thought of it maybe happening was scary. What a mess that would be.

“Well, what do you think?” Dot says, looking us over. “That they’re out there roasting marshmallows?”

Marissa starts packing up her stuff. “You guys are such downers.”

“Where are you going?” I ask her.

“Somewhere happy,” she says with a haughty little sniff, and takes off.

Now, I hadn’t seen Billy since history, but I didn’t think much of it because I figured he was just avoiding Marissa. But when he was absent in science and drama, I started to get a little worried. I could see him ditching drama, but science? That class is hard.

So during drama I went up and asked Marissa if she’d seen him, but she just said no and then went back to talking with her new, happy friends.

After school I tried calling Billy from the pay phone, and when it rolled over to voice mail, all I said was, “Hey, it’s Sammy. Just a little worried about you because you weren’t in science or drama. Call Casey’s house and tell him you’re okay, okay?”

But when I was pay-phoning Casey after school, he didn’t seem too worried. “Marissa was definitely not on his mind on our way home yesterday. All he talked about was Justice Jack.”

“But that’s just some fantasy world. Today he was back in junior high.”

“You know,” Casey says, “the place I’d look for him would be Buckley’s. Justice Jack had some meeting there at three o’clock, remember?”

“But … why would Billy ditch school for something that starts
after
school?”

“I have no idea, but if he didn’t go home sick, I bet that’s where he’ll be.” He snickers. “Any chance to see Justice Jack.”

“You want to meet me there? It should be safe, don’t you think? It’s seems like an old-guy hang—not someplace Heather or your mom would ever go.”

“Yeah, I sure don’t know anyone that goes there.”

“Me either.” I look around, ’cause all of a sudden I’m worried that Heather may be lurking nearby. “I’ll make sure I’m not followed.”

“Sounds good. See you there!”

So I head out on my skateboard, and to make sure nobody’s following me, I take a few detours, turning down streets I don’t need to take, zigzagging the long way over to Buckley’s.

By the time I turn onto West Main, I’m positive nobody’s following me, and I’m also sure Casey’s right—if Billy’s not sick, he’ll be there.

I ride until the coffee shop is right across the street, then I pop up my board and wait for a break in traffic so I can cut over.

Only there
is
no break in traffic.

So I’m finally deciding that maybe it would be a smart idea to head up to the light instead of jaywalking when a bright red sports car goes flying by.

There’s no missing Candi Acosta in her Hot Mobile. It’s not just that the car is bright red, or that her hair is red, it’s the
way
she drives, zooming around other cars, acting like she’s in the Indy 500 instead of downtown Santa Martina.

The good thing about her being a speed demon is that she has to concentrate on cutting off other cars and flooring it through yellow lights, so she doesn’t really have time to notice people on the sidewalk who are considering jaywalking.

Or, with
her
on the road, suicide.

Still, I was kinda worried that maybe she’d seen me.

Or that maybe Heather was in the car and
she’d
seen me.

And what if they’d already passed by Casey coming from the other direction and realized he and I were going
toward
each other? What if they were flipping an illegal U-turn right now, racing back so they could bust us and throw Casey out of the house?

I told myself I was being dumb, but since all the traffic made jaywalking seem even dumber, I went clear down to the corner, waited for the light to finally change, and kept my eyeballs peeled for red sports cars as I crossed the street and made my way back down to Buckley’s.

Buckley’s Coffee Shop seems like a place that’s been around since the beginning of time. Or at least since before the mall was built. It’s got big windows on each side of the door, with dark green booths and shellacked pine tables shoved up against them. There’s also a long breakfast counter with tall stools, but I’ve only ever gotten a glimpse of it, because there are always old people sitting at the
booths by the window. And since old people in restaurants never seem to have anything to say to each other, there’s a lot of staring out the window going on, which makes peeking inside even more awkward than just walking by.

Sure enough, there are a couple of old guys staring out the window from a booth as I walk by. The High Roller isn’t parked out front, but I’m not surprised by that, either. There’s not much parking on Main Street, so most businesses have parking in back. And since I’m so sure that Billy will be there spying on Justice Jack, and since I’d taken about ten miles of detours and am sure Casey will already be there, I just yank open the door and go inside.

Right away a really awkward vibe fills the air.

It’s like the building itself gasped.

And then every old neck in the place slowly creaks around to face me.

The big guy wiping down the breakfast counter comes to a halt and just stands there looking at me.

The cook behind the order carousel freezes in the middle of putting two plates on the pass-through counter.

Even the bobcat that’s mounted above the back door is staring at me.

And that’s when it hits me that I’m the only female in the place.

“Pssst!” I hear from my left, and believe me, I’m more than a little relieved to turn and see Casey.

He’s sitting in a booth, alone, and when I slide in across from him, he says, “Billy’s not here, and neither is Jack, but I’ve been watching that guy over there.” He nods across the diner. “He doesn’t fit in here at all.”

Right away I know exactly what he means. Instead of a T-shirt and flannel like everyone else in the place is wearing, this guy’s got on a black button-down shirt and black slacks that are obviously high-end. He’s by himself, scrolling through his phone. There’s no food or coffee on his table, just a pair of shades that pushes his look toward Secret Service, only he’s kinda too scrawny for that. Plus, his hair’s shaggy, in a very un–Secret Service sort of way.

Casey’s watching him, too. “I think he may be the one Jack’s supposed to be meeting.”

“He’s not from Santa Martina, that’s for sure.” I look around. “But what about Billy? I really thought he’d be here.”

“Maybe he did go home sick?”

“He seemed fine this morning.”

All of a sudden the big guy from behind the counter is standing at our booth. “You kids ready to order?” His big, broad belly is at eye level, and even him just standing there is really intimidating.

“Uh … is there a menu?” Casey asks.

Old guys at the booths near us snicker, and Big Boy just sorta grins. “We make anything. Just tell us what you want.”

I look up at him. “But how do we know how much it is?” I glance at Casey and then back up at Big Boy. “We’re kinda on a budget.”

Big Boy nods. “Don’t worry. We’re reasonable.”

“But—”

“And there’s always dishes!” an old guy at another booth calls, which makes all his friends cackle and snort.

“Okay,” Big Boy says, “how about we go at it the other way around. What do you like, and how much you got to spend? We’ll rustle up something for you based on that.”

But all of a sudden there’s a little commotion by the back door and a chorus of voices calls out, “It’s Justice Jack!”

“Greetings, good citizens!” Jack bellows, making his grand entry.

And that’s when we see that Justice Jack has a sidekick with him. Only his sidekick isn’t wearing a torn cloth mask or a frayed towel cape.

He’s got on a black leather mask, a black bomber helmet, a tight red shirt, bright red gloves, black jeans, and …

Hudson’s awesome coat.

And even as covered up as he is, there’s no doubt about it.

Jack’s new sidekick is Billy Pratt.

“Quite a character,” Big Boy says, watching us stare at Justice Jack and Billy. “You kids knew he was coming? Is that why you’re here?”

I give him a guilty little shrug.

“So it’s not an after-school snack you’re looking for.”

It feels like he’s about to kick us out, so Casey starts scrounging through his pockets and manages to scrape up about three dollars, while I put in thirty-seven cents.

“Uh-huh,” he says, eyeing our measly pile of cash. Then he takes a good hard look at each of us and nods. “Seeing how it’s your first time here, why don’t we say the Cokes are on the house. And let’s get you a better table, maybe a little closer to the action.”

We both just stare at him a minute, not really believing our ears. Finally I choke out, “You’re serious?”

He cocks his head, telling us to follow him. “Welcome to Buckley’s.”

We wound up in a small booth right across the aisle from where Jack and Billy were sitting with the Man in Black. Billy had given us an impish grin and slipped a finger
in front of his lips, so he knew we were there. Jack did, too, although he seemed more worried than happy to see us.

“So, Jack—” the Man in Black is saying, but Jack cuts him off.

“With all due respect, good sir, the name is Justice Jack.”

“He’s no ordinary Jack!” an old guy in the booth next to him says, and everyone else in the place follows up, shouting, “He’s
Justice
Jack!”

“And this,” Justice Jack takes the opportunity to announce, “is my faithful assistant, the Deuce!”

“All hail the Deuce!” the same old guy shouts.

“Hear! Hear! Long live the Deuce!” the rest of them call.

Casey and I look at each other like, The Deuce? but Billy’s obviously loving it. He stands up and lifts his arms high like he has legions of adoring fans. “Thank you, good people!”

Now, the Man in Black is looking a little uncertain. Like, Where am I, and who
are
these people? He leans forward across the table and says something that we sure can’t hear, and apparently Justice Jack and Billy can’t hear, either, because they lean in, too. And then the three of them have a hush-hush powwow while Casey and I sip our Cokes, hoping their huddle will break up already so we can hear again.

Finally the Man in Black leans back and raises his voice. “What do you mean, you have to blindfold me?”

Justice Jack crosses his arms and puffs out his chest. “It’s the way it has to be!”

Just then a rocking ringtone cuts through the air, and the peanut gallery of old guys calls out, “The Justice Jingle!” as Jack snatches the phone from his belt.

Casey grins and whispers, “Did you recognize that?”

“What?” I whisper back.

“His ringtone.” I shake my head, so he says, “ ‘Jumpin’ Jack Flash’ by the Stones.”

We go back to watching Jack, whose eyes are wide behind his mask as he checks out the display and shows it to Billy.

“City Hall?” Billy cries.

Jack makes a show of putting the phone on speaker mode. “Justice Jack. It’s a good world. Let’s take it back!”

“Jack, it’s Mayor Hibbs,” comes the voice from the other end.

“Yes, Mayor!” Jack says in his booming Justice Jack voice. “How may I be of service?”

“The statue’s still missing and my police force is apparently dumbfounded,” Mayor Hibbs announces, sounding like a junior version of Justice Jack. “I want it back before it’s sold for scrap! I’m willing to make a proclamation! A commendation! A dedication! What’s your pleasure?”

“My pleasure?” Justice Jack asks.

“Would you like a Justice Jack Day? Keys to the city? Your own float in the Christmas parade? Any of those! Just find my statue!”

“Consider it done, Mayor!” Jack booms, and the entire restaurant starts chanting, “Justice Jack! Justice Jack!” as he clicks off.

“Is it always like this?” the Man in Black shouts over the chanting.

“Some days are busier than others,” Jack shouts back.

The Man in Black just stares at him a minute, then stands. “Let’s go.”

“To the hideaway?” Jack asks. “The blindfold requirement still—”

“Fine. Let’s go.”

Justice Jack gets out of the booth, waves to all the old guys in the place, and calls out, “Farewell, wise men!”