Sammy Keyes and the Power of Justice Jack (10 page)

Justice Jack turns his mask on me.

“Not me!” I tell him, and point to Mikey. “Him.”

Justice Jack puffs up his chest. “Why certainly!” he booms in his superhero voice.

So Hudson grabs his camera and we all go out to the porch, and although Mikey is totally spazzing with happiness, he does manage to hold still long enough for Hudson to snap a picture of the two of them.

And Hudson’s just put down the camera when Justice Jack suddenly whistles between his fingers. “Up here!” he calls out to a guy in a black mask and a blue cape. Then he turns to us and says, “The Ace of Hearts is helping me today.”

“What happened to the King of Clubs?” I ask, checking out his new sidekick.

Justice Jack frowns. “He wasn’t very reliable.”

So up trots the Ace of Hearts. And now we can see that his cape is actually a threadbare towel, pinned to his
T-shirt, and that his face is really weathered and that some of his teeth are missing. “No luck,” he pants.

Justice Jack looks him over. “We need to work on your hero gear,” he says with a frown. “That’s just not cuttin’ it.”

“
I
could be your helper!” Mikey cries. “I have a costume and everything!”

“No!” Marissa squawks, and Justice Jack sizes him up, saying, “Maybe in a few years, champ.” And with that he bounds down the steps crying, “Onward!”

“I can’t believe you gave him that cool coat,” I grumble after he’s gone.

Hudson shrugs. “I have to trust it will be put to good use.” He smiles at us. “So … what about that cocoa?”

We all go, “Oh, right,” then head back inside and make cocoa. And even though Mikey’s on a superhero high that seems like it’ll last the rest of his life, Marissa descends into Dannyville despair in no time.

“So what are you going to do?” I ask her when we get a minute alone on the porch.

“I don’t
know
,” she whimpers.

“If you call him, he’ll just snow you with some story. Like he wasn’t feeling well, or he overslept, or he’s gone every single Sunday except today, or—”

“Stop it! What if it
was
something like that? It’s not fair to judge him until we’ve heard what he has to say.”

I roll my eyes. “Fine. Go call him. Get snowed.”

But she doesn’t call him. She just sits there looking out across the porch railing, until finally, very quietly, she says, “I don’t think he could lie to my face.”

“Since when?”

“Stop it, Sammy!”

I put my hands up. “Sorry. You’re right. I should be helping you, not jabbing at you.” I shake my head. “I just don’t trust him, and I don’t know what to
do
.”

She looks me in the eye. “Go with me to his house.”

“To his house? When?”

“Now.”

“You’re serious?”

She nods. “We’ll go up, knock on the door, and see what his reaction is.”

I think about the insanity of this a minute, then shrug. “Why not?”

So we announce that we’re going for a girl-talk walk so Mikey won’t ask to tag along, and then head out.

Now, Danny’s house isn’t exactly next door. From Hudson’s, you’ve got to go past the mall, across Broadway, and then zigzag back into a neighborhood with old tract houses and thirsty yards. So it took us a good twenty minutes to get there, and when we did, Marissa chickened out.

“What? No! We didn’t walk all this way for nothing!”

“But what if—”

I grab her by the sleeve. “You’re going.”

“But—”

She tugs back, but I drag her up to the front door and ring the bell.

“What am I going to say?” she whispers frantically. “It’s like I’m checking up on him!”

But it’s too late to turn back, because the door swings open and there’s Danny.

“Marissa!” he says, his eyes popping wide. And then he looks at me and gets a little nervous. “Uh … what’s up?”

I can tell Marissa’s about to pee her pants, so I just shrug and tell him, “We missed you at church this morning.”

He looks back and forth between me and Marissa. “You
went
?”

Marissa nods and gives him dopey little puppy eyes, which makes me want to slap her silly.

“Man, I’m so sorry,” he says to her, oozing smooth as he steps out of the house and pulls the door mostly closed behind him. “I didn’t feel good this morning so I just went back to bed! I’ve gone every single week until now, too!” He cocks his head a little. “I thought you said you
couldn’t
go.”

“I said I had to think about it,” Marissa says weakly.

There’s a moment of awkward silence where I’m just staring at Marissa, wondering if she noticed that he’d just used
all three
of the excuses I’d told her he’d try.

And then Danny says, “So you’re checking up on me? Is that what this is?”

Marissa cries, “No!”

“So why didn’t you just call?”

Marissa is about to quiver apart, so I jump in and tell him, “Look, Danny, you may be able to convince Marissa that you’ve changed, but you’ve got a credibility problem with me. You can understand that, right? I just thought it’d be a good idea to talk face to face.”

He bristles. “So I’ve got to go through you to get to her?”

“The real question is, Why do you want to get to her?”

“Because I
like
her? Because she used to be my
friend
?”

Real calmly, I say, “See, I don’t buy that.”

“You don’t
have
to buy that,” he tells me, and from the glint of anger in his eyes I know I’m right—the new Danny is just a spit-shined version of the old Danny.

“So you’ve contacted Billy and Casey and all your other old friends, too?”

“Who I want to have back as friends is none of your business.” Then he just can’t help himself. He smirks and says, “I can tell you this, though—you’re not on the list.”

“But Marissa is, not because you actually
like
her, but because it’s just been a shock to your system that she’s not your groupie anymore.”

Marissa gasps, “Sammy!” and she’s looking horrified—like I just ripped the head off a bunny.

Danny looks at Marissa. “What is this?”

Marissa cries, “Sorry!”

“Well, what? Do I need her permission to talk to you?”

“No!”

“Good.” He gives me a hard look, then turns to Marissa. “I’ll call you,” he says, in a just-me-and-you-baby way. But as he opens the door and goes inside, I get a glimpse of someone moving quickly out of view.

Someone I recognize.

Before I can even think about what I’m doing, I jab my foot forward and stop the door from closing.

From inside I hear Danny mutter, “What the—” as Marissa gasps, “What are you
doing
?”

I turn to her. “Heather’s in there.”

Marissa goes pale. “She’s not!”

Danny body-blocks the opening in the doorway and looks down at my foot. “Come on. Really?”

I look him right in the eye. “So why’s Heather here?”

“Heather’s n—”

The door whips open and there she is, wearing way too much makeup and her usual sneer. “You got a problem with that, loser?”

Marissa stands there with her jaw on the ground while Danny pinches his eyes closed, then scrambles to explain. “Look, I’ve been through some really bad times and I’m trying to build my friendships back.”

I snort. “By telling the truth and going to church and … what else? Oh, right,
changing
.”

He looks at Marissa and points to me. “Why did you
bring her? I know you and Heather don’t get along, but did you ever think that
she’s
the reason?”

“Let’s go,” I tell Marissa, and as I start to turn around, Danny taps his chest twice and does a little sweep of his hand toward Marissa.

Like, My heart beats just for you, baby.

He’s sly about it, too.

So Heather can’t see.

I drag Marissa out of there, and when we’re on the sidewalk, I say, “See? He hasn’t changed a bit.”

But instead of thanking me for exposing Danny for the snake he is, she snaps, “Why did you have to act like that?”

I stop dead in my tracks. “That was Heather back there. Heather! He was too busy to go to church because he was with
Heather
.”

“You don’t know that!” she calls over her shoulder as she keeps marching along. “You’re judging and jumping to conclusions!”

“I’ve got eyes! Open yours!”

“They are open!” she shouts back. “And I’m seeing a friend whose mind is closed!”

“Marissa, he
lied
to you. He said he didn’t go to church because he wasn’t feeling well and overslept.… Come on!”

“Maybe he did! You weren’t there! How would you know?”

“And he was about to deny that Heather was there, but she blew it for him.”

“You don’t
know
that!” she shouts back. “Maybe he
was going to say, ‘Heather’s none of your concern’ or ‘Heather’s not your business’!”

“Get real! He was about to say, ‘Heather’s not here!’ ”

“See? Judgmental!”

She’s nearly half a block away and obviously not waiting for me. So I run to catch up with her. “Marissa, can’t you see he’s manipulating you?”

She gives me a detached look. “Or maybe
you’re
the one manipulating me.”

“Oh, and I’m the reason you and Heather aren’t friends?” I throw my hands in the air. “Fine. Go ahead. Be her friend. Don’t let me stop you.” And, really, I just feel like taking off.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I know.” She gives me a pleading look. “If he didn’t like me—if he didn’t want to be a better person—why would he call me and tell me all that stuff? And why would he act like he does?”

“
Act
like he does? You mean like giving you that phony little heart tap?”

“See? There you go again! Who says it was phony?”

“Marissa, he hid it from Heather. Can’t you see he’s just playing you?”

“
Why
would he play me? Why would he bother if he didn’t like me?”

I think about this a minute, then say, “You know what? I think you telling him off last month really did get to him, but not because he’s ever been in love with you, or cares about you as a friend.”

“Then why?”

“Because you were the one person he’d always had
power over. If he gets you back, he’ll feel like he’s got his mojo back.”

“His mojo,” she says, like I’m the most ridiculous person she’s ever met. “Sammy, why can’t you ever just let things be what they are? Why do you have to pick them apart and talk about
mojo
?”

“How can you not want to understand what his game is?”

“Because it’s
not
a game.” She gives me a smarty-pants look. “Where’s the box? Where’s the board? Where’s the rule book?”

“Well, obviously you could
use
a rule book, but Danny’s not a board game kind of guy, and you know it. He’s more looking to get to the next level.”

“Whatever!” she snaps.

Which pretty much means she’s done discussing it. So I don’t say anything more, and our walk across town becomes a silent march. And after blocks, I really do want to give up and head for home, but it feels so wrong to leave things like this.

Plus, my skateboard’s at Hudson’s and I need to get it.

So we keep on marching along, and I know Marissa’s probably thinking that I’m being completely unfair and judgmental and
mean
, which bothers me plenty enough, but what’s bothering me a lot more is that a jerk like Danny could have any effect on a friendship as strong and long as Marissa’s and mine. And I don’t want to be combative about it, but, come on—how can she not see through him?

Apparently, Marissa can’t think of anything to say to me, either, because she keeps walking faster and faster, and
by the time we reach the mall, she’s steaming along like a locomotive. But as we turn the corner and head down Cook Street, we both notice a crowd gathering across the street at the police station and start to slow down.

“What do you think’s going on?” I say, nodding at the crowd.

“Something big …” Then she says, “Wait, it’s Justice Jack!”

Sure enough, Justice Jack is making his way up the police station steps, carrying a big black Hefty sack over his shoulder.

Marissa shakes her head. “He looks like a comic book Santa or something.”

“Yeah, huh?” I say back, and for some reason having those words come out of my mouth is a big relief.

Like,
Phew
. We can still agree.

“KSMY is there!” she says. “That’s Zelda Quinn!”

There’s no mistaking Zelda Quinn. She’s KSMY’s very own skunk reporter. She dyes her hair super-black, except for a fat white streak that’s right up front. Grams likes to watch her, but I think she acts like everything is life-and-death. Even when she’s covering something like an elementary school play, she’s all
intense
. Like any second terrorists might infiltrate the multi-purpose room.

Anyway, the closer we get to the gathering, the more it looks like some weird news conference. Justice Jack stops about halfway up the steps, turns around, and swings off the sack while Zelda Quinn and her cameraman move around, trying to get good positions, and the rest of the
people form sort of a wide horseshoe on the lower steps and sidewalk. It seems like a strange group that’s gathered, too—a couple of them have shopping carts, a few have dogs.…

And then it hits me.

“I think he’s giving away jackets to the homeless.”

Marissa nods. “I think you’re right!”

All of a sudden Justice Jack’s voice booms through the air. “Downtrodden, you are not forgotten! The fair citizens of Santa Martina heard your shivers!” He opens the sack and produces a dark blue jacket. “Through their kindness I give you armor against the bitter cold! A shield against the chilling winds! And the strength that comes from knowing that people care.” He pauses a moment, then raises the jacket high. “Consider these your Justice Jackets!” Then he starts handing them out, one by one, while the cameraman moves in for close-ups and Zelda Quinn puts her microphone in people’s faces.

Marissa and I watch from across the street, because it’s not like I want to be on the news at all, let alone with a bunch of homeless people.