Sammy Keyes and the Killer Cruise

  After about half an hour we park at a dock where a sailboat is waiting, and guides give us some instructions before we all pile into the boat.

  Now, at first I’m kinda nervous. I mean, this is a boat. Not tiny, but not big, either. It tips a little side to side as people walk around. There are masts and sails and ropes, which seem solid and secure, but the whole thing feels somehow … dicey. Like once we get out to the real ocean, a whale might come along and flip us right over.

  Plus, it’s crowded. Besides the five crew guys and eight passengers, there are three big coolers and a bunch of snorkel gear and not enough places to sit. I wind up on a wooden bench near the front of the boat, with Marissa on my right and Darren on my left. It’s actually a good spot, but poor Marko gets stuck sitting on an ice chest.

  Anyway, after some more instructions and a little overview of where we’ll be going and what kind of wildlife we might be lucky enough to see, they put up the sails and off we go.

  I’m still nervous as we sail away from the dock, but after we’ve been going for a while, I start to relax. Everything is so beautiful. The water, the birds overhead, the coastline, the mountains … And I love the sounds. The gush of water against the boat, the seagulls crying, the wind … Something about the wind—in the sails, against flags at the top of the mast, and especially across my face and in my hair—it makes me feel like I’m soaring over the water.

  Like I’m flying.

  After a while one of the crew points and shouts, “Delfines,” and when we look, we see dolphins arching in and out of the water not far from us.

  I cry, “Holy smokes!” and it comes out all squealy, because I’d never seen anything like it before. And then the dolphins swim toward us instead of swimming away, and pretty soon the boat is sailing along in the middle of a group of them.

  I look over at Darren with a big ol’ smile and tell him, “This is awesome,” and he smiles back and nods like, No kidding!

  After that, I was definitely over my fear of being on the sailboat. I think the dolphins made me feel like we were welcome. Even after they took off, I just quit worrying about us being kicked out of the water by angry whale tails or whatever.

  Then we arrived at our snorkeling place, which was called Los Arcos, where there were huge rock formations jutting out of the water, one in the shape of an arch. And after some basic snorkeling instructions, we put on our flippers and masks and jumped overboard!

  It was really warm on the boat, so jumping into the ocean was a shock, but after just a couple of minutes, the chill was gone and the water felt great. And when Darren was sure we had the hang of breathing through the snorkel tube, we kicked off toward the arch rock, because that’s where all the fishies were supposedly hanging out.

  And, boy, were they! Whole schools of yellow-and-black ones and green-and-blue ones. Plus we saw a sea turtle and an octopus.

  It was awesome and I could have stayed out there all day, but after we’d been through the arch a few times, we heard the time’s-up! whistle blow and had to swim back to the boat.

  The return trip didn’t feel much like the sail out to the rocks. For one thing, we seemed to be moving a lot faster—like we were in a rush to get back. But also, the crew turned on music, which kind of killed the whole symphony of nature thing. Marko didn’t seem to mind, though, ’cause he slapped and bapped the side of the ice chest he was sitting on to the rhythm of the music. “Dude!” he called over to Darren. “I got me a cooler cajón!”

  Darren laughed, “You have a way cooler cajón at the studio!”

  Marko had to give up his ice chest when they served food, but he didn’t seem to mind that, either, seeing how the food that got served was delicious fruit and shrimp and fresh-baked rolls.

  On our sail out to Los Arcos, one of the crew had been snapping pictures, and apparently there was a setup somewhere on board where they could print them, because after the food was put away and we were all air-dried, they brought out a three-ring binder with plastic-sheeted pictures in them. I didn’t even want to look, because come on—you want to sell me a little snapshot for twenty bucks?

  But when it was Marissa’s turn with the binder, she gasped and said, “Oh, Sammy!” and shoved it in my lap.

  Now, okay, the truth is, I hate pictures.

  Maybe because I take terrible pictures, but whatever—I hate them.

  But looking at the one in my lap, I knew right away—I had to have this picture.

  Twenty bucks?

  Shoot, I would pay a hundred!

  “Sammy, that is way better than anything you would get at formal night,” Marissa whispers.

  Well, pinchy shoes and a dress are not going to produce anything anyone would want, but really, this picture is more than just not tortured.

  It’s like a small miracle.

  For one thing, I’m smiling.

  Really smiling.

  For another, it’s a picture of … well, of me and my dad.

  There are no pictures of me and my dad.

  Zero.

  Well, okay. There’s the cheesy say-cheese picture of the four of us, but none of just him and me.

  And there sure are none with him grinning at me while the ocean’s glistening and dolphins are arching out of the water in the background.

  Marissa takes over, shoving the binder into Darren’s lap. “You have to buy this picture!”

  He takes one look at it, then calls out to a crew guy, “Señor,” and just like that, the picture’s mine.

  “Promise you’ll scan it for me?”

  I nod and look away, wishing hard for some sunglasses to hide my stinging eyes.

  TWENTY-ONE

  It was nearly five o’clock by the time we got back to the marina, and I could tell Darren was kinda keyed up as we went through the turnstiles and boarded the cruise ship.

  I guess Marko could, too, because he says, “Dude, they’re here. Relax.”

  “Who are we talking about?” I ask.

  “Drew and Cardillo,” Marko tells us. “Bass and keys. We won’t be causin’ much trouble tomorrow without them.”

  “Oh, we could still cause some major trouble,” Darren says. But then he frowns and adds, “But we’d be in violation of our contract.”

  “Why haven’t they been on the cruise the whole time?” Marissa asks.

  “What’s actually unusual is that we have been on the ship the whole time,” Darren tells us. “The way entertainment on cruise ships works is acts go from ship to ship, switching at ports. Or on sea days, they helicopter talent in and out.”

  My eyes bug out. “They helicopter people around?”

  Darren nods. “There’s a landing pad on the bow of the ship.”

  “That’s a little over-the-top, isn’t it?”

  “They’ve got a system down. And it makes for cabin efficiency. They don’t want you taking up a room for five nights when you only entertain for one or two.”

  I think about that a minute. “So the comedian we saw last night …?”

  “Is probably doing the same show on a different ship tonight.”

  Marko throws in, “Sleeping on the same pillow some other entertainer used last night.”

  As we enter the arctic zone of cruise ship air-conditioning, Darren adds, “We also would have been down on Deck 3 if I hadn’t upgraded. Drew and Cardillo decided last minute that they couldn’t be gone the whole week. They had other commitments.”

  “Yeah,” Marko mutters, kind of rolling his eyes. “Soccer.”

  Darren eyes him. “Hey, it’s important to be there.” Then he looks at me and says, “Which I’m afraid I won’t be much of tomorrow. We’ve got setup, sound check, and two shows.”

  “And he’s a total mother hen,” Marko says.

  “Hey!”

  “Well, you are.” Marko puts his hands up. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that! Especially since we’ve got no techs.”

  “We’ve got techs, just not our techs.”

  “Varie
ty show techs?” Marko says, pulling a face. “Comedian techs?”

  “We’ll be fine,” Darren tells him. “It’ll all be fine.” But it’s like he’s trying to convince himself.

  We’re at the Deck 4 stairs now, but instead of going up with us, Darren stops and says, “I do want to go check on Drew and Cardillo, and touch base with Archie before we leave port.”

  “So is he hairy?” I ask, remembering how they’d called him the Wolfman earlier.

  Marko kinda grins. “No hair, no sharp teeth … a big disappointment.”

  I laugh, and then Darren gets us back on track. “How about we meet at our staterooms at seven and then go to dinner?”

  Marko makes a quiet little brwak-brwak-brwak sound, which gets him backhanded by Darren. “Dude! I’m kidding,” Marko laughs. “And you know what? I’ll come with you.”

  So they go down the stairs while we go up. And no, I haven’t gotten any better at the walking-in-flip-flops thing. They’re loud and I’m kinda slow, and on the Deck 6 landing, Marissa actually stops and says, “Take them off, would you? Just go barefoot.”

  So I do, and it feels … great! I can totally zoom!

  I zip up, up, up the stairs until Marissa finally calls, “Hey!” ’cause her quiet little feet cannot keep up.

  I wait on the Deck 8 landing, and for the first time since we’d left the ship, Kip Kensington takes over my mind.

  “No,” Marissa says when she meets up with me, because I’m seriously eyeing the library door.

  “He’s probably not there,” I tell her. “It’ll just take a minute.”

  She grumbles, “He probably is there, and it never takes just a minute,” but she follows me inside anyway.

  And it would have taken just a minute, because Kip’s not there, but the Puzzle Lady spots us. “He hasn’t been here all day,” she says from across the room.

  Which means she has.

  Now, really, I would have waved and said thanks, but Marissa notices how far she’s gotten on the puzzle and goes over, saying, “Wow, that’s”—and then she sees the image that’s shaping up—“one weird puzzle.”

  “Isn’t it?” the Puzzle Lady says. “What on earth is a skull doing in a tree?”

  Which anyone would agree is a great question. I mean, it’s just perched there. On a branch. By itself.

  It’s definitely a human skull, but it’s way bigger than the head of the man straddling the branch of the tree. And it’s smiling. Even though there’s a spike coming out of the side of the head.

  And I don’t know if it’s a perspective thing—you know, where the man in the tree is farther back than the skull in the tree—or if the artist didn’t know what they were doing. Or maybe was on drugs. Or whatever. All I know is that this puzzle is more than hard.

  It’s creepy.

  “Obviously, I can’t stop now,” the Puzzle Lady tells us. “Got to figure out the rest of it.” Then she looks at me and says, “I’m guessing you and your friend decoded your own puzzle?”

  So yeah. Can you say eavesdropper? But I just shake my head and try to be polite. “He might’ve. I don’t know. We’ve been gone all day.”

  “Ah,” she says, going back to the puzzle.

  Now, I don’t know how one little ah can make a person feel so guilty, but that one little ah sure did. It seemed to be all wrapped in a giant bow of disappointment. Like, Ah … you’re one of those. Abandons her friends. Puts pleasure before problems. Lives in a haze of take-it-or-leave-it ignorance.

  Which ticked me off!

  So I wag my flip-flops at her a little and say, “That’s not fair! I barely even know him! Am I supposed to spend my whole cruise trying to help him figure out his crazy family’s problems?”

  “My,” she says as she puts a piece into place. And without even looking up, she says, “Aren’t those supposed to be on your feet instead of wagging in people’s faces?”

  Well, that does it. I tell Marissa, “Come on,” and walk my bare feet right out of there.

  “Wow,” Marissa says as we’re heading toward the stairs. “What was that all about?” But the weird thing is, she says it like she doesn’t understand my reaction.

  “Didn’t you get that?” I snap. “The way she said, ‘Ah’?”

  “The way she said, ‘Ah’? You bit her head off because she said, ‘Ah’?”

  “It was the way she said it.” I start stomping up the steps. “And I didn’t bite her head off!”

  “Like you’re not biting mine off right now?” she mutters.

  Then I put my sea-pass card in the door lock and nothing happens.

  “What?” I cry, and try again.

  Still nothing.

  And I can feel myself getting all flushed.

  Mad.

  I can’t even open a stupid door when I have the key?

  Finally, Marissa asks, “Did you forget to switch back with Marko?”

  Which for some reason makes me feel even stupider, and I actually stomp my foot when I go, “Maaaaaan!”

  So Marissa lets us in and tells me, “There’s no reason for you to be feeling guilty about not helping Kip today.”

  I follow her inside. “Who says I feel guilty?”

  “Please,” she snorts.

  “Besides, he must’ve decoded it or he’d have been in the library today, right? So what’s there to feel guilty about?”

  “Hmm. Then maybe you feel like you missed out?” She gives a little shrug. “You’re the one who always figures things out. Maybe you’re jealous?”

  “What?!”

  She laughs at the face I’m pulling. “Oh, just go take a shower.”

  “I can’t believe this!”

  She eases my picture and flip-flops from me. “Shower. Go. I promise you, you’ll feel better.”

  The truth is, I did feel like a crusty crab from all the seawater and sun.

  But I wasn’t jealous!

  Good grief.

  And it turns out I did feel a lot better after the shower.

  But I wasn’t jealous!

  Good grief.

  I was kinda curious, though.

  Had Kip broken the code?

  And if so, what did the note say?

  Was it from a kidnapper?

  A blackmailer?

  A murderer?

  Or maybe Kate had been found?

  So while Marissa’s taking her turn in the shower, I sit and think. And there comes a point where I just can’t stand it—I really want to know! So since there’s no way Marissa’s going to want to run around and track down Kip, I finally decide to just call his room.

  I know he’s probably not there, but it feels like an easy place to start. So I pick up the phone and punch in 9584. And after four rings, I’m about to hang up when suddenly there’s someone on the other end saying, “Yes?”

  It’s a soft voice.

  Female.

  “Uh, Ms. Kensington?” I ask, not really knowing what to call her.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s Sammy. Kip’s friend?”

  “Why … hello.” She sounds calm with maybe just a hint of being surprised. “What can I do for you?”

  “Uh … I was hoping Kip might be there?”

  “Here?” She hesitates, then says, “I thought he might have been spending the day with you.”

  “With me?”

  “Like he was when we didn’t know where he was before?”

  “Uh, we’ve been gone all day? We went to shore.”

  “Oh, well, that would have been nice,” she says, which reminds me of what I’d overheard JT’s parents saying over by Fruity Island.

  About being trapped on board.

  “So … you haven’t seen him all day?” I ask.

  She heaves a little sigh. “You probably know he’s miffed at me?” My brain races around for what to say to that, but she saves me from having to answer by saying, “It’s okay. I’m sure you have issues with your parents, too. The teen years are tough, and he’s certainly a teen. M
oody, impulsive, not always rational …” She laughs, “Not that I’m trying to insult you, but I’m sure you’ve noticed these tendencies in him, hmm?”

  There’s a lot I could say or maybe should say, but the person on the phone is not really matching up with the person Kip’s talked about. And a lot of what she’s said about Kip is true—he’s definitely been short-tempered and hotheaded in front of us, and we’re basically strangers. What’s he like in front of people he actually knows?

  Anyway, I’m kind of thrown by all this, so instead of answering her, what comes out of my mouth is, “I’m just wondering if someone broke the code?”

  “The … code?”

  A little chill tickles through my ear to my spine. And my brain’s going, Uh-oh, because there’s definitely been a shift in her voice. So I tell her, “Never mind. Not important,” but before I can get off the phone, she asks, “He told you about that? When?”

  Now, the way she says when is pretty intense. Like she really wants to know.

  Like it matters.

  So I try to sound all casual as I tell her, “Yesterday he said he didn’t want to go rock climbing or anything else until someone had ‘cracked the code,’ whatever that meant. I figured it was a brainteaser, but … it was more than that?”

  She hesitates, then says, “Things are always a bigger ordeal in this family than they should be.” The intense edge in her voice is gone now, and before I can even try to get a real answer, she adds, “I’m sorry he’s not here. Have you tried the teen lounges? Or the pool? Or maybe the pastry shop? That boy loves pastries.”

  I can tell she’s getting ready to hang up, so I just blurt out, “When’s the last time you saw him?”

  “Like I said, he’s playing the teen card. My advice would be to check the Royal Suite. He may have moved in there.”

  “Moved in?”

  I can practically see her shrug. “Some of his things are gone.”

  I want to cry, Are you serious? But you don’t know where he went? but I hold back and ask, “Has Kate turned up?”

  There’s a short silence before she says, “No.”