Not me.
Anyway, Officer Borsch was actually really great about the whole mess. The only thing I didn’t let him help me with was getting the “secret admirer” gift back from Hudson. I had to do that myself, and let me tell you, it wasn’t easy.
“My,” Hudson said when I’d finished telling him everything. “That is some story.” Then he went inside and got the photograph and handed it over. “It was a very nice gesture, Sammy. I’m touched that you did it.” He gave me a one-armed hug and said, “But don’t you know? Your friendship, that’s what’s valuable. No gift can compare.”
And the interesting thing is, I’m seeing that for myself now. I’m back to having nothing, but I don’t really mind. And Marissa still doesn’t have a cell phone or a credit card or even spending money, but she seems to be getting used to it. We just hang out with Holly and Dot, toss the softball around, and talk about stuff.
Like Danny and Danny and Danny and Danny.
Actually, there is another boy she talks about.
Mikey.
Ever since she found out about Jab-the-Flab and the other things kids at school have done to Mikey, she keeps wanting to “check on” him. She hangs out with him, laughs with him, does stuff with him…. She’s actually nice to him and totally behind Hudson’s Boot Camp. “It’s working,” she told me. “His attitude is so much better, and he’s lost ten pounds!”
The situation with their parents is still a mess. I have no idea where that’s going to wind up, but seeing things change between Marissa and Mikey has been like witnessing a little miracle on Cypress Street. Who’d have thought losing money and Mikey living in a kind of foster home would make those two get along?
Again, not me.
Anyway, I also took a chance on André and told him everything and explained that the Jackal had confessed to ransacking Buck’s room to get the rest of his counterfeit money stash. André didn’t know that I live illegally with Grams, so it was a big leap of faith for me to tell him, and André knew it. “How am I supposed to tell you to scram now?” he said, his cigar stump wagging away.
I grinned at him. “Guess you’re stuck with me as a friend, huh?”
“Guess I am,” he growled. “So, when ya gonna clean this place, huh? It’s filthy.”
“Uh, later,” I said, heading for the door.
“Figures,” he grumbled, but right before hoisting his newspaper, his eye twitched a wink at me.
So I was feeling really good about all of that as I eased back into the Highrise. Then came my encounter with Mrs. Wedgewood, which, believe me, can totally blow a good mood.
I hugged the wall quick when her door opened up, but she whispered, “It’s okay, sugar.” Then she clanked out a few steps and asked, “Why are you always so skittery?”
I felt like saying, ’Cause I’m living next door to a big ol’ blackmailing, slave-driving whale! but I bit it back and sighed, “What do you need, Mrs. Wedgewood?”
“Need? Why, sugar, who says I need anything?”
Yeah, right. Like vampires don’t need blood?
“Come in, come in!” she says.
“Uh…”
“Oh, come on. I’ve got something for you.”
So I followed her, wondering what it was this time. Garbage? Laundry? Cans to recycle? A shopping list?
But she stopped at her table and picked up a plate of cookies. “I baked these for you.” Her eyes twinkled as she added, “Not that I didn’t eat a few myself.”
I eyed the cookies suspiciously.
She must’ve read my mind. “I’m not looking for something in return. I just got to thinking—you’ve been so helpful, and with that prima donna mother of yours and everything that’s gone on here this week…why, I just thought you could use some appreciation. So I baked these as a little way of saying thank you. I wish I could pay you or do more in return, but as it is, I’m not able to.” She pushed the plate of cookies on me. “Go on, sugar. They’re chocolate chip with creamy fudge centers. They were my all-time favorite when I was your age. It’s been years and years since I’ve made them, but”—her eyes twinkled again—“they’re every bit as good as I remember.”
I left there completely stunned.
And she was right about the cookies.
They were amazing.
Anyway, it was actually Grams I was most scared of facing. I mean, how many times have I been down this same dumb road? In my gut, I knew there was something wrong with keeping the money, so why didn’t I listen to that? Why didn’t I confide in Grams? How could I have let things get so out of control?
There were a lot of details I could have kinda glossed over, but in the end, I wound up telling her everything anyway. I wanted to come totally clean, but since it was after the fact, it was too late—I’d lost her trust and she was fuming. And since Lady Lana was still on her high horse about being “unfairly maligned” and refused to have me shipped to Hollywood to stay with her, Grams finally just told me, “You are grounded, young lady! For the rest of summer!”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said.
I mean, what else was there to say?
But after a week of being cooped up with me, she finally let me out, grumbling, “Just try not to scare anyone to death on your way down, would you?”
I actually laughed, and it was the first time she’d smiled at me in a week.
So even though I’ve got a lot of community service hours looming in my future, I know that overall I’m lucky to have gotten off so light. And maybe someday I’ll have some real money of my own, but in the meantime, I’ve got my friends.
And my grams.
And a boy who might someday kiss my cleaned-up lips.
Which, now that I think about it, are all things even real money can’t buy.
Yeah, maybe I’ve just been looking at this the wrong way.
Maybe it turns out I’ve been rich all along.
Also by Wendelin Van Draanen
Sammy Keyes and the Hotel Thief
Sammy Keyes and the Skeleton Man
Sammy Keyes and the Sisters of Mercy
Sammy Keyes and the Runaway Elf
Sammy Keyes and the Curse of Moustache Mary
Sammy Keyes and the Hollywood Mummy
Sammy Keyes and the Search for Snake Eyes
Sammy Keyes and the Art of Deception
Sammy Keyes and the Psycho Kitty Queen
Sammy Keyes and the Dead Giveaway
Sammy Keyes and the Wild Things
Shredderman: Secret Identity
Shredderman: Attack of the Tagger
Shredderman: Meet the Gecko
Shredderman: Enemy Spy
How I Survived Being a Girl
Flipped
Swear to Howdy
Runaway
Confessions of a Serial Kisser
THIS IS A BORZOI BOOK PUBLISHED BY ALFRED A. KNOPF
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2008 by Wendelin Van Draanen Parsons
Illustrations copyright © 2008 by Dan Yaccarino
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Alfred A. Knopf, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
Knopf, Borzoi Books, and the colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
Visit us on the Web!
www.randomhouse.com/kids
Educators and librarians, for a variety of teaching tools, visit us at
www.randomhouse.com/teachers
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Van Draanen, Wendelin.
Sammy Keyes and the cold hard cash / Wendelin Van Draanen; [illustrations by Dan Yaccarino]—1st ed.
p. cm.
Summary: Thirteen-year-old Sammy meets a mysterious man who dies of a hea
rt attack after telling her to get rid of the large amount of money he is carrying, leading her to investigate who the man was and how he came to be carrying so much cash.
[1. Wealth—Fiction. 2. Counterfeits and counterfeiting—Fiction. 3. Death—Fiction. 4. Veterans—Fiction. 5. Mystery and detective stories.] I. Yaccarino, Dan, ill. II. Title.
PZ7.V2857Sabm 2008
[Fic]—dc22
2008020643
Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.
eISBN: 978-0-375-89148-9
v3.0
Wendelin Van Draanen, Sammy Keyes and the Cold Hard Cash
(Series: # )
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends