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Sammy Keyes and the Sisters of Mercy (Sammy Keyes, 3, Band 3) - Hardcover

Buch 3 von 18: Sammy Keyes

Van Draanen, Wendelin

 
9780679888529: Sammy Keyes and the Sisters of Mercy (Sammy Keyes, 3, Band 3)
Hardcover
ISBN 10: 0679888527 ISBN 13: 9780679888529
Verlag: Random House USA Children's Books, 1999

Inhaltsangabe

She is supposed to be in church to get out of trouble...

Sammy is working off some junior high detention time by helping out at St. Mary's, but when Father Mayhew discovers that his ivory cross has been stolen, Sammy becomes the prime suspect. While she's looking for the real culprit, Sammy is amazed to find how much gossip and petty jealousy there is bubbling under the church's serene surface. This is just like junior high!

And school is abubble with intrigue as well. Sammy's in the middle of softball playoffs when her catcher's mitt is stolen. She's sure the hated Heather must have it, but knowing whodunit and getting the mitt back are two different things.

With a cast that includes a trio of singing nuns, a homeless girl in high tops, a former safecracker, and a red-hot shortstop, it's not so easy to tell the saints from the sinners...

Die Inhaltsangabe kann sich auf eine andere Ausgabe dieses Titels beziehen.

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Books have always been a part of Wendelin Van Draanen’s life. Her mother taught her to read at an early age, and she has fond memories of story time with her father, when she and her brothers would cuddle up around him and listen to him read stories.

Growing up, Van Draanen was a tomboy who loved to be outside chasing down adventure. She did not decide that she wanted to be an author until she was an adult. When she tried her hand at writing a screenplay about a family tragedy, she found the process quite cathartic and from that experience, turned to writing novels for adults. She soon stumbled upon the joys of writing for children.

Feedback from her readers is Van Draanen’s greatest reward for writing. “One girl came up to me and told me I changed her life. It doesnR

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

She was on her way out of the church before I could get a very good look at her, but what I could see was that she was thin, had a brown ponytail, and was about my age. Now, kids don't usually come to church in the middle of the afternoon on a school day --they're too busy running around town trying to put together enough sins to make going to church on Sunday worthwhile. So her just being there was enough to make me do a double take, but it was her shoes that made me want to go up to her and say, "Hi!"

She was wearing high-tops. Like mine, only older. And I was about to chase after her, only just then Father Mayhew comes through the side door and says, "Samantha, I want to see you. Right now! In my office!" and I could tell from the way his voice was booming through the church that something was wrong.

Very wrong.

***

I followed him, all right. Straight back to his office. And when he sits down behind his desk and stares at me, I stand in front of it and ask, "What happened? What's wrong?"

He swivels in his chair for a minute while his fingers push back and forth against each other. Then he takes a deep breath and says, "As I'm sure you know, we religious take a vow of poverty. The Church provides us with food and shelter and a modest living allowance, but by and large, we own very little. Very few things that I have do I consider to be mine. Do you understand this, Samantha?"

This priest sitting behind the desk may have looked like Father Mayhew, but he sure didn't sound like him. I just gulped and said, "Yes, sir."

He takes another deep breath like he's counting to ten. "One of my few earthly treasures is my papal cross." He's quiet for a long time, pushing his fingers up and down. Then he says, "It was given to me by my father when I was ordained. He has since passed on, and it can never be replaced." He looks straight at me. "Samantha, I implore you -- give it back. There'll be no repercussions -- just, please, return it."

Now I think I know what cross he's talking about. Whenever Father Mayhew gives a service, he wears this ivory cross on a knotted rope of ivory beads. It's not a plain cross or one with Jesus on it like you're used to seeing. It's got one big cross bar with two smaller ones above it -- like the top of a powerline pole. So I ask, "Your ivory cross?"

His fingers freeze. "Please, lass, give it back."

"But Father Mayhew, I didn't steal your cross!"

"Samantha, please. It's very important to me."

"I don't have it!"

"Samantha..."

"Really, I don't!"

He shoots out of his chair. "Well if you insist on denying it, then perhaps it'd be best if you spent your time with Sister Josephine over at the soup kitchen." He comes from behind his desk, and you can tell from the way he's moving that he wants me out of there.

I say, "But..." but he refuses to listen, and the next thing you know I've been thrown out of church.

I stand on the walkway, staring at St. Mary's front door, not quite believing what's just happened. Why did he think I'd stolen his cross? Just because I'd broken some rules at school didn't make me a thief! But I could tell that this new Father Mayhew was not someone to argue with, so after a few minutes of standing around fuming, I headed over to the soup kitchen.

The soup kitchen doesn't serve soup. Not that I've ever seen, anyway. It mostly serves sandwiches or just pre-packaged food. I'd never actually been inside the Soup Kitchen, but I'd watched people waiting for it to open or eating on the benches outside.

Some strange people hang out at the soup kitchen. It's next to the Salvation Army, and right between them is this grassy area where people spend the day passing cigarettes around, checking out bandannas on other guys' dogs, or rocking strollers back and forth, trying to keep their babies from crying.

And whenever I walk by, I wonder how the people got there. Do they have homes? Do they sleep in the bushes? What do they do when it rains? Grams calls them bums and usually I do, too, and the ones who hang out in the grass all day asking you for money when you walk by, well, I think they are.

But then I'll see a really old man standing in line and wonder how he wound up at the soup kitchen. Did he start out sharing cigarettes and checking out bandannas? Or did he go out for a walk one day and forget how to get home.

I've thought about following them to see where they go at night, but according to Marissa and Dot, half of them really do have homes and the other half camp out under the Stowell Road overpass.

Anyhow, there I am, knocking on the front door of the soup kitchen while all the bums in town are checking me out. Finally, someone opens the door and says, "We're not open for another half-hour."

Well, it's Brother Phil, and if you knew Brother Phil, you'd know why I had to stick my foot in the door. Phil is kind of, well, dense. He's got a round face and a round belly, and a very round head. A very dense round head. Normally, you don't think about a person's head, but with Brother Phil you can't help it. He's mostly bald, only I don't think he's quite admitted that to himself yet. He plasters what hair he has left from one side of his head clear over the top to the other side. And since Brother Phil's got such a round head, no matter what he does, there's always a patch where his scalp shines through like a flashlight in a bat cave.

Brother Phil's not the kind of guy you try to explain things to. He doesn't listen real well. He has his own ideas about things, and getting him to change his mind is like opening a gate that's swelled shut in the rain.

So before Brother Phil can slam the door in my face, I stick my high-top in and say, "Father Mayhew sent me over."

He says, "Fine, but we won't be serving for another half-hour," while he's pushing on the door trying to figure out why it won't close.

"Brother Phil, he sent me over to help, not to eat!"

He just stares at me. Then one of his eyes twitches a few times and he asks, "You're here to help?"

I let myself in. "That's right."

Sitting at a table in the kitchen are Sister Josephine and Sister Mary Margaret, and they're hovering over a map. Sister Josephine looks up and then scrambles out of her chair. "What are you doing here?" she asks, like I've caught her having a swig of holy water.

Before I can answer, she turns to Brother Phil and says, "What's going on?"

"Mayhew sent her over. To help, I guess."

I just stand there like an idiot, wishing I was back scrubbing purple glass, when Sister Mary Margaret stands up and says, "Well that's wonderful! We can always use an extra hand." She points to the map and says, "Sister and I were just planning our vacation -- "
Brother Phil cuts in, saying, "I don't know why you have to plan it out. You go to Las Vegas every year. And you take the bus!"

Sister Josephine picks up her cane, kind of cocking it in case Brother Phil gets even farther out of line. "Last year, if you recall, the bus broke down and we had to wait five hours in the middle of the desert for someone to repair it. If we'd had a map, maybe we could've done something about it."

Brother Phil shakes his head. "Like what?"

Sister Mary Margaret shrugs and says, "Who knows, Philip...maybe hitchhike."

So I'm trying to picture the two of them on the side of the road with their thumbs out, when Mary Margaret folds the map up real neat and says, "Regardless, it's our little adventure and we're enjoying it." She turns to me. "What's your name again, dear?"

"Sammy. Sammy Keyes."

She smiles. "That's right. You come Sundays with your grandmother, don't you?"

I give her a little nod.

"Not every Sunday,...

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Verlag
Random House USA Children's Books
Erscheinungsdatum
1999
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0679888527
ISBN 13 
9780679888529
Einband
Gebundene Ausgabe
Anzahl der Seiten
144
Kontakt zum Hersteller
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Verantwortliche Person
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