Sammy Keyes and the Night of Skulls

by Wendelin Van Draanen

  What came out of the El Zarape sack were two skulls wrapped in worn blue bandannas. They kinda thump-bumped onto the floor, then rolled right out of their head wraps and just lay there, grinning at us.

  “Whoa!” Billy says with a great big Billy Pratt smile on his face.

  The rest of us just stare until finally Marissa chokes out, “Are those real?”

  “Real?” Billy laughs. “No way!”

  “Are you sure?” Marissa says. “Look at those teeth.”

  They do have teeth.

  Long yellow and brown teeth.

  A lot are missing, but still. A lot aren’t.

  “Are you kidding me?” Billy says, picking them up. “They look just like those skulls at the haunted house.”

  “Did those have teeth?” I ask, because I sure didn’t remember teeth. Not like these teeth, anyway.

  “Sure they did!” Billy says, and then Casey nods like, Yeah, there were teeth.

  “So … maybe this explains why that guy was chasing him?” Holly says. “Maybe El Zarape stole those skulls from the haunted house?”

  I shake my head. “Those do not look like the skulls we saw at the haunted house.” What’s also weird about them is that one of them is ashy white and the other is almost brown.

  Casey takes the white one from Billy and raps it with his knuckles. “Does that sound real?”

  “How should we know?” Marissa snaps. “Personally, I’ve never knocked on a skull before!”

  “Well, here,” Billy says, practically sticking his head in her lap. “Knock away!”

  “You’re a knucklehead, all right,” Marissa says, pushing him back. “But I’m serious. What if those are real?”

  “Aw, come on. They can’t be,” Holly says. “And I do think they look like the ones at the haunted house.”

  “But that’s a long way to chase someone for a couple of fake skulls,” I tell her. “And why would that guy be chasing him all that way with a shovel?”

  Billy gives me a perky look. “Because he’s Shovel Man!”

  I grin and roll my eyes. “Oh, right. I forgot.”

  “Wait,” Holly says to me. “Are you thinking he dug them up? Tonight?”

  But before I can answer, Billy says, “If he dug them up, they’d be full of dirt! Or, uh”—he eyes Marissa—“crypt composting creatures.”

  I squint at him. “Crypt composting creatures?”

  “I’m trying to be sensitive here …,” he whispers through gritted teeth. Then he cups a hand on the side of his mouth and leans my way. “You know … maggots?”

  But Marissa hears him anyway. “Eeeeeew!” she squeaks.

  “Well, they would be,” Billy says. “And these bad boys are clean as a”—he blows down into one of the eye sockets like he’s playing a flute—“whistle!”

  Holly shrugs. “Billy’s right. If they’d just been dug up, they’d be dirty. Besides, who digs up a grave in the middle of the night?”

  “That’s exactly when you’d dig up a grave! You wouldn’t do it in broad daylight!”

  “Two graves,” Casey says.

  “But on Halloween?” Holly asks. “When people are notorious for cutting through graveyards?”

  But something else isn’t making sense to me. “If a body’s in a casket, would there even be dirt? I mean, what’s the casket for? To keep the dirt and bugs out, right?”

  Holly shakes her head. “Then how does the body decompose?”

  “Can we please change the subject?” Marissa begs.

  Casey turns the skull he’s holding over and back, and says, “Sure. ’Cause you know what? If you saw this in a store you’d say, Cool skull! It’s because they got handed off in a graveyard that we’re talking about it.”

  “Yeah,” Billy says, reaching for the skull Casey’s holding. “So quit messin’ with my head.”

  Marissa throws him a scowl, but it’s not serious. “Very funny.”

  “Thank you,” Billy says proudly as he puts the skulls down in front of him. “Now let’s name ’em!”

  “Name the skulls?” Holly asks.

  “That’s right! You know, Heckle and Jeckle? Tom and Jerry? Bert and Ernie?”

  Casey adds, “Beavis and Butt-Head?” and then everybody starts throwing in names. “Batman and Robin!” “Bonnie and Clyde!” “Calvin and Hobbes!” “Lewis and Clark!”

  Then Holly says, “How about Adam and Eve?” and Billy cries, “Scooby and Shaggy!” and Marissa throws in,

  “Edward and Bella?”

  “Ew,” Holly and I say, squinting at Marissa.

  “Yeah, you’re right,” she says, looking embarrassed.

  I mutter, “How about Grim and Reaper?”

  “That’s genius!” Billy cries. “Grim and Reaper!”

  The darker skull is turned a little sideways in front of Billy and it feels like it’s looking at me.

  Laughing at me.

  I try to ignore the eerie vibe I’m getting from it, but I can’t seem to shake it. It’s like the skull is letting out an invisible vapor.

  Surrounding us.

  Absorbing us.

  Watching us.

  Then all of a sudden there’s a honk, honk outside and the invisible vapor goes poof.

  Marissa sighs and says, “That’s my mom,” which makes me look at the clock and go, “Wow. I’ve got to go, too!”

  So we all start scooping our candy back into our pillowcases, and that’s when we hear Hudson’s footsteps coming. Real quick Billy puts Grim and Reaper back into the El Zarape sack.

  “Did Michael trick-or-treat tonight?” Hudson asks Marissa because Marissa and her little brother, Mikey, have been living with Hudson on and off for months while their parents try to get out of crisis mode—something that’s apparently hard to do when there’s a gambling problem involved.

  Marissa says, “Yeah. He went with a couple of friends from school.”

  “Really?” I ask, because until recently Mikey McKenze had no friends.

  Marissa grins at me. “He went as Spy Guy.”

  The rest of us have our candy all put away, but since Billy had to tuck away Grim and Reaper he’s still working on packing up. So I lean forward and fling the bandannas toward him. “That one feels wet,” I tell him after I toss the second one.

  Billy doesn’t care. He just shoves them both in his sack while Hudson says, “I was really hoping Michael would come by.”

  Well, just like a wish being granted, Mikey comes busting through the front door, wearing a yellow cape, a black mask, and a black shirt with a big yellow SG on the chest.

  “No bad guy too big, no crime too small!” he announces as he punches his fists onto his sides. “Spy Guy can do it all!”

  I just bust up, because really, if you knew Mikey, you’d know how unbelievable his recent transformation from whiner to imaginary superhero has been.

  Mikey sees Hudson and drops the act long enough to run up and give him a hug, but when Billy says, “Dude! I want that cape!” Mikey’s instantly back in character. He flicks the cape back off his shoulder and takes on a deep voice. “Sorry, sir. It’s mine.” Then he looks at Billy sternly and says, “And if you steal it, I will catch you!”

  I bust up again, only the fun’s cut short because Mrs. McKenze hits the horn again. Marissa grumbles, “If I ever go out with a guy who honks from the curb, my parents had better not gripe about it.”

  So she and Mikey take off, and pretty soon the rest of us are leaving, too, telling Hudson thanks a million and promising to come by soon.

  The four of us had about three blocks to walk together before we had to split up, and we pretty much just goofed around and ate candy. And at one point Billy’s going on about Grim and Reaper being alien skulls from Planet Dirt when I interrupt him with, “I saw how fast you put them away when you heard Hudson coming.”

  “Yeah? Well, that’s because I’m the Wise Keeper of Skulls.”

  “The Wise Keeper or Wise Cracker?”

  “Ha-ha, Sammy-key
esta.” Then he adds, “Would you want to explain how we got them?”

  I think about this a minute. “Uh, no.”

  “See?”

  “So it’s not because you think that maybe they are real skulls?”

  “Would I be naming skulls if I thought they were real? They would already have names!” He pouts a little. “I have great sensitivity for the dead, you know.”

  I punch him in the arm. “Shut up.”

  “Well, I do!”

  I just shake my head and laugh like, Whatever, and drop it.

  Now, Casey and I may be “an item,” but since nobody else in our group is and we don’t want our friends to feel weird around us, we try to act, you know, normal. So when the four of us get to the intersection where the guys have to go one way and we’re going another, Casey and I just give each other a hug and a ghoulish smile and say, “See ya!” and off we go.

  Well, okay, we throw in a few more waves and stuff as we’re crossing the streets, but nothing, you know, revolting.

  And I guess I’m still in a little bit of a Casey daze, because when Holly says, “You know where Danny lives, right?” I’m like, “Uh-huh,” not really paying attention.

  “How far off Broadway is it?”

  “Five blocks? Maybe more ’cause you have to go—” I stop and look at her. “Why are you asking?”

  “I think we ought to go by.”

  “Go by? Go by and do what?”

  She eyes me. “I’d bet you anything he’s the one who beat up that preacher guy and stole his stuff. And if I know Danny, he’s messing around with it right now, pretending he’s some rock star or something.”

  “You really don’t like him, do you.”

  “Do you?”

  “No.”

  “So?”

  “So I promised Grams I’d be home before eleven and it’s already ten forty-five!”

  “And I promised Meg and Vera the same thing. But if we hurry, we can make it.”

  “There’s no way.”

  “Come on, Sammy. How many times have I gone someplace with you when I really should have gone home?”

  I moan, “Oh, man!” Then I frown at her and say, “You sound like Marissa, you know that?”

  She grins at me and says, “See what a dangerous influence you are on people?”

  I shake my head, because she’s right—this is exactly the kind of stuff I always do to her.

  “All right, all right! But we’ve got to run.”

  And that’s what we do, all the way to Danny’s house.

  “This is it?” Holly pants as we get out of the streetlight and work at making ourselves invisible next to the trash cans near the sidewalk.

  “Yup.”

  It’s a pretty generic tract house, and every time I’ve gone past it I’ve thought that the place looks thirsty. Like the lawn would love to suck up some water, and the walls are dying to soak in some paint.

  Still, even though it’s a worn, brown paper sack of a house, compared to the one-bedroom apartment I share with Grams and the place above the Pup Parlor where Holly lives with her guardians, it’s a sprawling mansion.

  There’s a car parked in the driveway, and after we’ve stayed still by the trash cans for a minute, I point past them to the wedge of light that’s coming from around the swing-up garage door and whisper, “You want to sneak a peek inside? If there’s anyone in there, they won’t be able to see us ’cause it’s light in there and dark out here.”

  She nods, so we scurry up alongside the car, hunching low so we’re as concealed as possible from anyone going in or out of Danny’s front door.

  Turns out the front door’s not our problem.

  The garage door is.

  We’re about halfway up the driveway when it swings up. And all of a sudden, clear as day, there’s Danny and Nick and two other guys we don’t know, ducking underneath it as they yak away.

  We freeze, and really, I don’t know what to do. They may be blind to us right now, but if we turn around and run they’ll see us. Especially under the streetlight. And if we stay crouched by the car, their eyes’ll adjust and one of them’s bound to spot us.

  So I look around quick and then do the only thing I can think of.

  Dive under the car!

  Holly’s right behind me, only her candy sack makes a sharp thwack as she hits the ground and suddenly the voices stop.

  “What was that?” It’s Danny’s voice, and Holly and I hold our breath as we watch four sets of feet walking by and around the car.

  Finally one of the other guys says, “There’s nothing out here,” and someone else says, “Probably just a cat messin’ in your trash.”

  Then Nick’s voice goes, “A cat? Dude, that was God getting ready to wrath on you, man. He knows you’re possessed by the devil.”

  “Shut up,” Danny says, but he’s laughing.

  “Yeah, dude,” one of the other guys says. “The wrath of the Lord will befall you and ye shall perish among the sinners and enter into eternal damnation.”

  Holly and I look at each other like, Can you say stupid? but the guys all think it’s hilarious.

  And then Danny says, “Who believes that, anyway. What an idiot.”

  “So where you gonna pawn the mic? And how does that work?”

  “There’s a dive on Main. You go in, they lowball you, you haggle a little, and you walk out with cash. I’ll probably get twenty bucks. No big deal. I do it all the time.”

  Holly and I look at each other like, Bingo! because we definitely have our answer.

  The question now is, what are we going to do about it?

  Lucky for us, Danny’s friends left pretty quickly after that. And when Danny ducked back inside the garage and closed the door, we gave it a good minute before creeping from underneath the car and hightailing it out of there.

  We were careful, keeping quiet and watching for Nick and the other two guys, but we were also in a hurry because of course we were late. And since it’s hard to whisper and run and keep an eye out for people, we didn’t exactly discuss what we were going to do about Danny.

  And the truth is, I didn’t know what I wanted to do. Not that I didn’t want Danny to be caught or pay for what he’d done—I did. I was just feeling really queasy about being the one to report him. I mean, what was Casey going to think if he found out I’d ratted on someone who used to be his best friend? And what was Marissa going to think?

  I needed time to figure out what to do, so when Holly had to turn left at the intersection of Broadway and Main, my plan was to keep on trucking. But Holly stopped me. “Hey, wait! Are you going to call Officer Borsch?”

  “Uh, yeah, I guess so.”

  “Well, when?”

  “Probably when Grams can’t hear?”

  “Why don’t you just come over and use the phone downstairs?”

  “But I’m already late and I promised—”

  “So call your grandmother first.” She pulls me along. “Come on. I’ll keep Meg and Vera occupied upstairs.”

  Holly’s plan did make sense. So I let her drag me to the Pup Parlor, and while she heads upstairs to the apartment to let Meg and Vera know she’s home, I go over to the Pup Parlor phone and dial Grams.

  “Oh, thank heavens!” she says when she picks up the phone. “I was so worried!”

  “Grams, I’m not even that late—”

  “But with everything that’s been going on?”

  I hesitate. “What do you mean? What’s been going on?”

  “Another person has disappeared! They think it may be a serial killer! And if that weren’t frightening enough, an evangelist was beaten and robbed tonight, and there were two gang-related stabbings right near the mall! I called Hudson and he said you left half an hour ago! And I know you go right by the mall! Where there were stabbings!”

  I pinch my eyes closed. “Grams, why do you watch the news?”

  “Because I want to know what’s going on in my community!”

  I sigh.
“Grams, I’m fine. Holly’s fine. Everyone’s fine. What’s really going on in your community is that a gazillion kids had an amazing time getting free candy, okay?”

  “That evangelist who was beaten up would not agree with you.” She lets out a weary sigh. “What’s this world coming to? Who would do such a thing?”

  Well, I don’t want to get into that, so I just say, “Look, I’m going to be at Holly’s for a few more minutes and then I’ll be home, okay? Nothing to worry about. Everything’s fine.”

  She takes a deep breath. “Okay. I’m glad you’re safe. Thank you very much for calling, Samantha. I really appreciate it.”

  So I click off and then just stare at the phone for a minute.

  I know I should call Officer Borsch.

  I know it’s the right thing to do.

  So even though I’m not sure what it’s going to wind up costing me, I take a deep breath and dial his cell.

  He picks up on the first ring. “Borsch here.”

  “Uh, I’m calling with an anonymous tip, so don’t even say my name, got it?”

  He hesitates, then says, “Go on.”

  “The Preacher Man’s stuff is going to be taken to a pawn shop on Main Street tomorrow.”

  “Which one?”

  That throws me. “There’s more than one?”

  “Make that three.”

  I think a minute. “Well, east? West? Where?”

  “Two near Blosser, one in the five hundred block. West.”

  “Uh, I’d guess that one.”

  “The one in the five hundred block?”

  “Yeah.”

  There’s a minute of silence and then he says, “That’s it? That’s all I’m getting?”

  “Uh …” I scratch my head. “That’s not enough?”

  Officer Borsch is always gruff. Even when he’s being nice, he sounds gruff. But when he says, “You’re in a tough spot here, aren’t you?” he sounds almost gentle.

  I let out a little snort. “That’s an understatement.”

  “Well, it may help your conscience to know that Reverend Pritchard has two fractured ribs and a concussion.”

  “The Preacher Man does?”

  “That’s right.” Then he adds, “It’s against the law to attack a man for expressing his beliefs, even if we don’t like the way he does it. It’s also against the law to rob him. But besides that, it’s just wrong to do those things.”