Sammy Keyes and the Power of Justice Jack (6 page)

She’s obviously desperate, so I tell her I will. But when I get off the phone, Grams is horrified. “You’re going out in this weather?”

“I have to, Grams. She’s a wreck.” I head for her closet to borrow a jacket. “I’ll be fine.”

“You’ll take my umbrella is what you’ll do,” she says, and I can tell that her granny foot has just come down.

I pull it out of the closet. “Fine.” And even though it’s
huge and black and ugly, when you whoosh it up, it becomes the Awesome Dome of Dryness, which is nice when it’s raining cats and dogs.

Or even cats and mice.

Anyway, I’m all set and ready to go, only when I peek out the front door to make sure the coast is clear, what do I see?

Two old ladies trying to break into the Wedge’s apartment.

One’s wearing a thick black sweater and has a nose as big as a beak, and while she’s prying at the doorframe with a long, fat screwdriver, the other one—who’s got hair so white it looks blue—is wiggling a credit card into the gap beside the lock.

I ease the door closed and whisper over to Grams, “You’re gonna want to see this.”

Grams takes one look and marches right over to Mrs. Wedgewood’s, going, “Sally! Fran! What are you doing?”

Now, Grams left our door wide open, and since I don’t want to risk one of the hobbling housebreakers noticing me close it, the first thing I do is grab Dorito and lock him in the bathroom so he can’t escape. Then I hurry back to the front door, and even though I
can
peek out, it’s kind of a dangerous thing to do. Especially standing up. It’s like if someone sees an eyeball at eye level, they know it’s a person.

But
if there’s an eyeball down near the ground, they either don’t notice it or they think it must have been a dog or a cat or something. And, really, I can’t stand not knowing
what’s going on. I mean, come on—there’s two old biddies out there breaking and entering!

So I get down and sort of crocodile my way to the door, and when I peek around the corner, there’s Grams wrestling the screwdriver away. “Stop it, Sally! You cannot just break into someone’s apartment!”

“This is none of your concern!” Screwdriver Sally snaps.

“That’s right, Rita,” the one with blue hair says as she jiggles the credit card. “We just want what’s ours.”

“What makes you think it’s in there? I thought you said she skipped town!”

“Then we want something of equal value,” Screwdriver Sally tells her.

Grams stops wrestling. “So you’re going to
steal
from her?”

Blue gives a calm little hunched-back shrug. “She stole from us, didn’t she?” She wiggles the card some more, then stops and looks over at Grams. “I have no idea how to do this. Do you?”

Grams shakes her head.

“They make it look so easy in the movies.”

Sally says, “Come on, Fran. Let’s go. I have a better idea.”

“What’s your better idea?” Grams asks as they start down the hallway.

“None of your beeswax, Rita. We don’t need you tattling!”

I scoot back quick, and after they hobble by, Grams comes in and closes the door. “Could you hear all that?”

I nod. “They’re nuts. And I know this is big excitement around here, but I really need to get to Marissa. Can you check and make sure they’re gone?”

So she does, and when her head pops back inside, she says, “Better make it quick!”

I start to, but then I remember. “Dorito’s locked in the bathroom!”

She scoots me along. “I’ll let him out. Now hurry!”

So I zip down the hall and out to the fire escape before some angry old bird comes after me with a screwdriver.

Marissa was waiting for me by the tower clock in the middle of the escalators. We used to meet at the arcade, but her gaming habit got annihilated by her dad’s gambling habit, and since she’s now always broke just like me, our new go-to area is the clock. It’s actually a cool place to hang out because on one side you can watch people go up the escalator, and on the other you can watch them come down. And if you look up in any direction, there’s a whole circle of railing where you can see people hanging out or walking by on the second level. It’s a prime people-watching spot.

Anyway, on my splish-splashy walk over to the mall, I’d told myself that I needed to be a good friend and
listen
to Marissa even though the thought of her slipping back under Danny’s spell made me want to slap her silly. I mean, if you take the evil of Heather Acosta, dip it in Teflon, and wrap it in a dazzling smile, you’d pretty much have Danny Urbanski. I was sure Danny had done a righteous job of gouging the Teflon for good, but when I got to the mall
and saw the look on Marissa’s face, I knew it hadn’t, uh,
stuck
.

I sat down next to her. “Talk to me.”

“Don’t you love how they decorate the mall for Christmas?” she says, looking around at all the tinsel and lights and holly wreaths. “And the music. I love Christmas music.”

I fasten the band around Grams’ dripping umbrella. “You better not have made me come out here in the pouring rain to talk about Christmas decorations.”

She heaves a sigh. “Danny called this morning.”

“And …?”

She gives me a look somewhere between fear and hope. “I was suspicious at first, but, Sammy, he’s changed!”

I bite back a Sure he has, ’cause there’s nothing new about Danny Urbanski totally snowing Marissa. “Okaaaaay … how has he changed?”

“He’s humble and remorseful, and … and … Sammy, he was
crying
.”

I mutter, “Alligator tears, maybe.”

“No! He was really sincere!”

And that was the end of me trying to listen. “Humble, remorseful, and sincere? Those are big words for a little liar with a long history of
working
you.”

“I knew you’d be mad, but, Sammy, people
do
change. He’s been going to counseling and to church. He says he hates the person he used to be.”

We sit there, quiet, for what seems like a week. And finally I take a deep breath and go, “So, what does this mean?”

“I don’t know,” she whimpers.

“Well, what does he
want
?”

She pulls a squinty little face. “For me to give him another chance?”

Now, it’s not like Danny was ever Marissa’s boyfriend. He was just her über-crush. He knew it, too, and would string her along by being all charming and flirty and sunny while behind her back he was sucking face in dark corners with Heather Acosta.

“We’re talking as a friend?” I ask her.

She pulls another squinty face. “I think as more than that.”

“You think.”

“Sammy, it was one conversation. He wanted me to forgive him. But he said how much he liked me and missed having me in his life.”

“But he didn’t come out and say he wanted to go out?”

“He
implied
it. And he invited me to meet him at church tomorrow.”

“So, what did you say?”

“That I had to think about it.”

I cover my face with my hands and lean my head back. “What about Billy?”

“I know,” she whimpers. “I know.”

I drop my hands and give her an angry look.

“I know,” she says again. “I
know
.” Then she adds, “And I
do
like Billy, and he
is
fun, but, Sammy, he acts so … immature.”

I look her in the eye. “Billy is the same Billy he was when I warned you not to break his heart.”

“I know,” she whimpers again.

She’s acting totally pitiful and ashamed and sorry, but still—I can tell that nothing I say will stop her from giving Danny another chance.

And I’m just about to tell her that for a person who’s so good at school and good at sports, she sure is bad at boys, when someone on the level above shouts, “Stop, you scoundrel!”

Even without looking up, I know exactly who it is.

“It’s Justice Jack!” Marissa gasps, looking up.

“You won’t get away with this!” he bellows from above us. “I will hunt you down like the cutpurse you are!”

Apparently, Justice Jack doesn’t have a grappling hook or a lasso on his utility belt, because the guy running away from him is already halfway down the escalator and Justice Jack is just hollering over the railing at him.

And maybe a real superhero could vault the railing and land like a cat on the moving steps, but this is Justice Jack—a guy in a mask and motorcycle boots.

“Look!” Marissa cries, pointing to the man charging down the escalator. “He
does
have a woman’s purse!” She looks around. “Someone has to stop him!”

Now, it’s pretty obvious that that someone isn’t going to be Justice Jack. And it sure doesn’t look like it’s going to be any of the people the purse snatcher is shoving past. Or any of the people who are just standing around staring. And since the purse snatcher is wearing shades and a sweatshirt with the hood up, it’s not like anyone’s going to be able to ID him later, either.

So Marissa’s right—someone’s got to stop him. But when I get up, Marissa pulls me back. “I didn’t mean you! Why
you
?”

I grip Grams’ umbrella. “Because I’ve got
this
.” Then I charge forward.

It’s actually only been a few seconds from the time Justice Jack first shouted, but the purse snatcher has been
flying
down the escalator and he manages to get off before I can reach it. So since I can’t block him with the umbrella like I was planning, or jab him in the stomach with the big, fat point, I lunge after him with the crook of the umbrella handle.

What’s funny is, the umbrella seems to know exactly what to do. It loops around the guy’s ankle, and before you can say, Holy flying felons, Batman! he’s splat-flat on the ground and the purse is skidding across the floor.

Behind me I can hear motorcycle boots pounding down the escalator, and in no time Justice Jack is towering over the purse snatcher with one boot on his back.

“Nice work, citizen!” he booms so the whole mall can hear, then says to me through his teeth, “I can’t believe you don’t wear a mask! Aren’t you worried people will come after you?”

I unhook the umbrella and tell
him
through
my
teeth, “I’d feel like a dork in a mask!”

His eyes go all mushy and hurt.

“Look,
I’m
not a superhero. I don’t need a mask!”

Now
his chest totally puffs up, and he stretches a gloved hand into the air with his finger pointed. “Villains, I give
you fair warning!” he announces. “Justice Jack is fighting back!”

In the movies this would probably have gotten big cheers and a round of applause, but in the Santa Martina mall?

There was one handclap.

One.

And then the purse snatcher starts squirming.

“Down, you despicable thief!” Jack bellows at him. “Unless you want a tour of Stomp City!”

Over by the big glass entry doors, I notice a man and a woman in uniform hustling into the mall. It’s sort of my survival policy to leave when cops arrive, so I start to, only then I see it’s these two bumbling cops Marissa and I know all too well. So instead of just leaving, I
hightail
it back to Marissa. “Let’s get out of here!”

“Is that Squeaky and the Chick?”

“Yes!”

Now, the fastest, easiest way for us to escape is to go up the escalator. So while Justice Jack bellows, “At your service, fair citizen!” to a lady in a fuzzy orange scarf who’s retrieving the purse, we hurry up the steps.

“I feel like I’m in a really bad cartoon,” Marissa whispers, glancing back at what’s going on below. She chases after me as I hurry down the main corridor. “So where do you want to go?” Then she adds, “I’m sorry I dragged you out here in the rain. I’m sorry about everything!”

And just like that, it all comes back about Billy. “I don’t know,” I tell her, and, really, all of a sudden I want to get
away from her as much as I want to escape being interrogated by Squeaky and the Chick.

Marissa hustles to keep up. “You hate me, don’t you?” she says, all dejected-like.

“I don’t
hate
you,” I tell her. “But I am mad.”

“I knew you would be,” she says, and she’s obviously feeling really sorry for herself.

“Come on, Marissa! Billy’s a sweetheart! I know he’s goofy, but I think he acts like that to cover up other stuff.” I look at her. “Has he ever talked to you about his dad?”

She shakes her head.

“Have you ever
asked
?”

“I don’t want to ask him about his dad!”

“Why not?”

“If I ask him about his dad, he could ask me about mine!” She drops her voice waaaay down. “And there’s no way I want people to know my dad’s got a gambling problem.” She moves in closer. “Or that he’s joined Gamblers Anonymous!”

“Gamblers Anonymous?”

She backs away. “See? Even you’re shocked. And you knew he had a gambling problem!”

“I’m not
shocked
, but …” I look at her. “There’s such a thing as Gamblers Anonymous?”

She snorts. “Of course there is. They’ve got Anonymouses for everything.”

We walk along for a minute without really knowing where we’re going, and finally I say, “So what
do
you and Billy talk about?”

“Sometimes school. Sometimes TV shows.” She shakes her head. “But mostly he just acts silly. You know—trying too hard to make me laugh.”

I think about this, then shake my head. “Wow.”

“Well, what do you and Casey talk about?”

I laugh. “Mostly our problems! His mom and sister, my mom, his dad being
with
my mom … There’s never a shortage of things to say.” I look at her. “I actually think it’s why we’re so close.”

Marissa looks down. “I feel terrible saying this, but I think I liked Billy more before we started going out.”

“So why didn’t you mention any of this before?”

“I don’t know. I think hearing from Danny … it just made me realize what I
didn’t
feel for Billy.”

“So that’s it?” I ask. “You’re breaking up with Billy?”

Her face crinkles. “I have to, don’t you think?”

Now, I’ve been walking really fast, so we’re already about at the end of the corridor, which means we’re either going to have to go inside the gaping entrance of a big department store or loop around and head down the other side of the mall.