Sammy Keyes and the Power of Justice Jack (2 page)

“Your teeth are black,” she says, zooming in a little on my mouth.

“So are yours!” I tell her, inspecting hers, and we both hurry to the water fountain to swish our mouths out before class.

Then on Wednesday she comes up to me looking kinda sheepish and says, “Mom thinks you’ll like these better.”

I arch an eyebrow at the little paper-wrapped cube in her hand. “What is it?”

“Hopjes,”
she says. “It’s coffee candy.”

“
Black
coffee?” I ask, picturing my teeth turning all icky again.

“No, no. It’s sweet. It’s really delicious.”

I just stare at it, ’cause coffee that’s been in a shoe sounds about as appetizing as tar. “You said that last time.”

But she forces it on me, and when I unwrap it, what I see does look edible.

It’s caramel-colored.

Shiny.

Like a piece of real candy.

So I pop it in my mouth, and after a few seconds Dot says, “Well?”

My eyes bug out a little. “This is the best candy I’ve ever tasted!”

“Told you!” she squealed.

Then on Thursday she brought a package of what looked like little waffle cookies. “They’re
stroopwafels
!” she said. “My favorite!”

They were also delicious, and since our friends Marissa and Billy and Holly were all there wanting to try them, they went fast.

“So, wait,” Billy says. “You sing a song at night and in the morning you get cookies in your shoes? Do you have to be Dutch to do this?”

Dot grins at him. “You have to be good!”

He laughs. “Well, that eliminates me.”

“And if you’re
not
good, you don’t just get a lump of coal. You get put in a sack and taken away by Sinterklaas’s helpers!”

“Seriously? They kidnap you?”

“Uh-huh!” she says, and her eyes are all sparkly. “But if you
are
good, then on the last day, Sinterklaas comes and throws
pepernoten
through the roof and leaves presents at your door.”

“Pepernoten?”
Holly asks. “What are those?”

“Little spice cookies!”

I squint at her. “He throws cookies through the roof? How?”

Dot grins. “He just does! He’s Sinterklaas! You look up and see them falling from the ceiling.”

“Don’t they break?” Holly asks. “Don’t you get crumbs everywhere?”

Dot shakes her head. “They’re little, and they’re hard. They crash through the roof and scatter all over the house and the children race to pick them up. They’re delicious!”

Marissa squints at her. “You eat them off the
floor
?”

Dot shrugs and smiles. Like, Yeah, that’s what we do. Then she adds, “We keep it going because Anneke and Beppie are still little, and I’m glad—it’s the most fun holiday ever!”

“Who’s Anneke and Beppie?” Billy asks.

“My sisters.”

“A double dose of mischief,” I tell him, because last New Year’s the rest of us spent the night at Dot’s house and they were like a couple of nosy mice, spying on us everywhere we went.

“Wish I could be a fly on your wall,” Holly says. “That’s got to be wild.”

“It is! Especially because Troy and Stan go into combat mode and try to raid my stash of
pepernoten
.”

“Let me guess,” Billy says. “Brothers?”

Dot nods. “They think they’re so smart, but this year I’ve got a satchel ready and they’re going to have to tackle me for them.”

Marissa shakes her head. “So little hard cookies come through the roof, you guys collect them—”

“We dive for them!”

“—and put them in
satchels
so your brothers can’t steal them—”

“Well, I steal theirs, too. And they steal them back!”

“—and after they’ve crashed through the roof, scattered all over the floor, and endured an epic battle between you and your brothers, you
eat
them.”

Dot grins from ear to ear. “It’s tradition!”

Billy laughs. “Can I get a skybox seat?”

The rest of us laugh, “Me too!” and then the warning bell rings so
we
all scatter off to class.

Then on Friday Dot comes racing up to us before school, all out of breath and rosy-cheeked. “Guess what?” she pants, but this time she doesn’t have Dutch cookies or candy or little tabs of tar.

She’s got an invitation.

“Mom says you guys can come over for Sinterklaas tonight!”

We all look at each other, and finally Billy says, “Really?”

Dot nods like crazy. “No skybox seats, though. You have to get in and be part of it. Wear heavy socks and come
ready for battle.” She gives a little grin and shrugs. “At least that’s what Troy and Stan say. Mom says as long as you don’t blow it for Anneke and Beppie, you’re welcome to join us.”

“Well, I’m in!” I cry, and Billy goes, “Me too!” and right away Holly and Marissa say they’ll go, too.

“Invite Casey if you want,” Dot says, looking at me. “The more boys we have to go up against Troy and Stan, the better.”

If I had to choose one word to describe Dot DeVries, it would be
nice
. Of all the people in our group, she’s the one who’s the bubbliest and sweetest. Sometimes I feel like she gets left out because the things the rest of us get into are a little, uh … rough around the edges? But I actually think it’s more that she has a big, tight family to do stuff with and the rest of us don’t. I live with my grandmother in a seniors-only building—which is top-secret because it’s illegal since I’m only thirteen. Holly lives in an apartment with two women—Vera and Meg—who rescued her from being homeless. Billy covers up his home life with jokes and stuff, but there’s nothing funny about how afraid he is of his dad. And Casey, well, his family’s a mess, and Marissa’s is, too. Which boils down to the fact that all of us except Dot are either trying to patch a family together or in the middle of watching one fall apart.

So not only is it nice of Dot to invite us over to her family’s Sinterklaas party, her thinking to include Casey is really … thoughtful.

“You guys are still together, aren’t you?” she asks me, ’cause I’m just standing there staring at her.

I nod, then turn to Billy and say, “You think you could tell him?” because, to make a long story short, Casey’s mother thinks I’m evil and has forbidden him to see me.

Billy and Casey are best friends and Billy’s used to being our messenger service, so he says, “No problem-o!”

Dot swings off her backpack and produces copies of a map. “Here,” she says. “It’s been a while since you’ve been over, so I thought this might help. Mom says be there by seven.”

“You’re out in Sisquane?” Billy asks. And he’s right—getting out to Sisquane actually
is
a problem. I don’t have a bike, and Marissa’s was run over by her father, and it’s quite a ways to skateboard … especially at night. I look around at the others. “I bet Hudson will give us a ride.”

“Good ol’ Hudson,” Marissa says, because even though Hudson Graham is seventy-three, he’s so unbelievably cool that his house has become our headquarters.

“Brilliant!” Billy says. “Let’s meet at the old chap’s!”

Everyone laughs and agrees, and then off we go to class, excited for the day to be over so we can invade Dot’s house, where cookies are said to fall through the ceiling.

Hudson Graham drives a 1960 Cadillac that he’s named Jester. It’s obviously ancient because nobody makes cars with pointy taillights, whitewall tires, and huge steering wheels anymore, but Hudson keeps it sparkling so it
looks
brand-new, and there’s no missing it when he’s cruising the streets of Santa Martina because it’s
lavender
.

When Hudson drove it around front, Billy practically peed his pants. “Dude, that is awesome!” And before he can even finish bouncing up and down, he grabs Marissa’s hand and calls, “We got shotgun!”

Now, Marissa and Billy aren’t shy about being “together.” But when it’s the five of us, I don’t like to make Holly feel awkward, so Casey and I just act, you know,
normal
. Which is sometimes hard because he’s a freshman at Santa Martina High so I don’t see him during school, and because of his mom and demented sister I’m not allowed to see him after. So it’s not always easy to just be all hey-how’s-it-going when I
do
get to see him.

Anyway, Marissa and Billy slide in front while Casey, Holly, and I pile in back, and then off we go to Sisquane.

Sisquane used to seem like the boondocks, but it’s not
that
far outside of Santa Martina, and it’s been built up a lot recently, so people don’t think of it as being shacks in the woods anymore. It even has a golf course and gated communities.

The DeVrieses don’t live in any of the new developments, though. You pass right by those and keep on going until you find a bunch of mailboxes on a post and a dirt road that has a crooked sign that says
MEADOW LANE
.

“It’s down that way,” I tell Hudson when I spot the sign. “But we can walk from here.”

He turns onto Meadow Lane anyway, but stops. Besides the big potholes ahead of us, the road is kinda overgrown with weeds, and scraggly bushes on both sides are sort of choking it off. Plus, about thirty feet away there’s a big branch sticking out across the road like one of those safety gates at a railroad crossing.

Hudson looks over his shoulder at me. “Are you sure?”

“It’s not far,” I tell him, and we all scoot out.

“Wow! This
is
the boonies!” Billy cries like he’s just arrived at Disneyland.

Hudson rolls down his window. “You’re sure you have a ride home?”

I nod. “Dot’s dad. Don’t worry. We’re fine.”

“You want me to keep the lights shining?”

I look back at him and smile, ’cause usually he treats us like we’re mature and responsible and smart, but right now he looks like he’s setting loose a litter of kittens.

“We’re fine, Hudson. Really. It’s right around the bend.”

So we all wave and holler, “Thanks!” and he drives away.

And then it’s dark.

Dark
dark.

And as we move past the big branch sticking across Meadow Lane, we start hearing noises.

Like rustling.

And crunching.

And hooting, and whooshing, and
croaking
.

“I feel like I’m in the
jungle
,” Marissa whispers as she clings to Billy.

“I don’t remember it being this overgrown,” Holly says, pushing a sprig of a bush aside. And even in the dark I can see that her eyes are cranked wide and roaming around all over the place.

“I’m pretty sure it’s just a little ways around this bend,” I tell them, but right then there’s a huge crashing, crunching, mega-rustling sound in the undergrowth to our right.

“Ohmygod!” Marissa squeals, and actually jumps into Billy’s arms.

Holly jumps back, too, but before I can grab onto Casey, a flying
haystack
knocks me flat.

The haystack’s got paws.

Big furry ones.

And a big, hot, slobbery tongue.

One that’s soaking my face!

“Aaaah!” I cry, pushing back.

“Nibbles!” Dot shouts from somewhere in the dark.

“He’s right here!” I shout back.

“That’s a
dog
?” Billy asks, and then cries, “The Abominable Furball!”

Dot appears with a flashlight and yanks Nibbles off of
me. “I’m so sorry!” she says. “He chewed through his rope. He’s had to be out all day because”—she glances over her shoulder and drops her voice—“we’ve been cleaning floors.” She drags Nibbles along and says, “I guess I’ll put him in the basement until after Sinterklaas comes.”

So she goes around the side of the house and locks the Abominable Furball away, and races back to the porch, where we’re waiting for her.

“Shoes off today,” she tells us as she kicks out of her clogs. So we all get down to stocking feet, and then we step inside.

Now, Casey had never actually been inside Dot’s house before, and since this was Billy’s first time anywhere near it, neither was prepared for the Land of Blue. At first their eyes just go a little buggy, but when we enter the kitchen, Billy cuts loose with, “Whoa!”

It was actually very polite, considering. I mean, knowing Billy, he might have said something like, Blind me with blue, why don’tcha! because the wallpaper, the counters, the linoleum floor, the dishes and pots and pans … 
everything
is just bursting with blue.

“Dad says it’s a cross between the sky and the deep blue sea,” Dot explains, then laughs. “And who doesn’t like the sky and the deep blue sea?”

I almost say, Well, if you’re
drowning
 …, but for once I keep my big mouth shut.

Mrs. DeVries’ head pops in through a doorway, and she whispers, “Are we ready?”

Dot hands us each a paper lunch sack. “Everyone’s here!”

Mrs. DeVries smiles at the rest of us. “If it gets too wild for you, just step aside,
ja
?”

We all nod, and I can tell Billy’s about to make some crack and
ja
back, so I jab him in the ribs with an elbow.

“What?” he says, pulling a stupid puppy dog face.

“Don’t even,” I tell him through my teeth.

“Don’t even what?”

“I know you, Billy.”

He gives me his impish grin. “
Ja!
You do!”

I elbow him again even though Mrs. DeVries is gone, and just as I do, a really loud cracking sound thunders through the house.

“Holy smokes!” I cry, and Dot squeals, “Anneke! Beppie! Sinterklaas is here!”

We look at each other all bug-eyed, then scramble out of the kitchen and into a wide hallway by the family room, where Anneke and Beppie are already scurrying around, snatching
pepernoten
off the floor.

Suddenly there’s another loud cracking sound, and this time I look up and actually
see
the cookies crash through the ceiling.

“Holy smokes!” I say again as they bounce all over the hardwood floor like some kind of weird cookie hailstorm.

Stan and Troy appear out of nowhere and slide toward us like they’re scoring a run in baseball, crying, “Out of the way!” and “They’re mine!”

“Troy! Stan! This is Billy and Casey!” Dot calls as her brothers snatch cookies off the floor and drop them in cloth bags strapped tight across their chests.