Sammy Keyes and the Night of Skulls by Draanen Wendelin van

Author:Draanen, Wendelin van [Draanen, Wendelin van]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, Young Adult, Childrens, Contemporary
ISBN: 9780375897351
Amazon: 0375897356
Goodreads: 12596652
Publisher: Knopf Books for Young Readers
Published: 2011-10-11T07:00:00+00:00

Casey sits on the beach towel, looks at me, and just waits.

I take another deep breath, hold it forever, and finally ask, “What would you do if you knew your sister killed someone?”

“Wait, what? Heather killed someone?”

“No! Sorry. This isn’t coming out right.”

All of a sudden his “Waiting for Rain to Fall” ringtone starts wah-wahing, but he mutes it quick without even looking at his phone. “Try again,” he tells me.

So I take another deep breath and say, “Let’s say you had a brother and he killed someone. What would you do? Would you turn him in?”

He doesn’t answer. He just gives me a very strange look. So I blurt out, “Okay, what would you do if some random stranger killed someone—would you turn them in?”

“Uh … sure?” But now he’s looking totally confused.

I shake my head. “Don’t worry—nobody’s killed anybody.”

“So why are we talking about this?” He looks around. “And why here?”

“Because …” And then it hits me that I can’t tell him I called the police on Danny. I just can’t. So I look down and say, “Never mind.” And even though I have totally lost my appetite, I start unpacking the sandwiches and brownies and plates and stuff.

“What’s going on?”

I shake my head. “Nothing.”

He turns my face so I’m looking at him. “Sammy, tell me.”

I stare at his beautiful, chocolatey eyes. His face is so open. So receptive. So … concerned. And I don’t know—I just cave.

“I’m the one who told Officer Borsch about Danny.”

Slowly, his hand lets go.

Slowly, his face falls.

And I can feel him pulling back.

Shutting down.

So I go into motor-mouth mode and tell him what happened. His phone goes off again in the middle of it, but he just mutes it, and when I’m all done, he sits there for the longest time staring out across the graveyard.

Finally he says, “He cracked his ribs?”

I nod.

“Maaaaaaan,” he says, shaking his head. And after what seems like a hundred years of silence, he turns to me and says, “I don’t even know this Danny. Who would do that?”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I wish he was still Dippin’ Dots Danny, but he’s not. And I wish someone else had turned him in because I don’t want you thinking I’m a narc, but the truth is I’m the one who did it.”

“I don’t think you’re a narc, okay?” He puts an arm around me and gives me a little smile. “I think you’re just braver than I am. I don’t know if I could have turned him in.”

I shake my head and look down. “He was never Dippin’ Dots Danny to me.”

He thinks about this a minute, then says, “Is that why you did that whole brother-versus-random-stranger thing?”

I nod. “Yeah, even though that didn’t come out right.”

“But I get what you’re saying. I mean, where do you draw the line? If he was just some random dude I’d turn him in, no problem. But my brother? I’d probably try to talk to him.” He eyes me. “Protect him from the consequences.

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