Sammy Keyes and the Killer Cruise by Wendelin Van Draanen Page B

the last time he’d seen Kip and JT, we were waving like idiots across elevators, it made sense that he’d picked up on the fact that something had changed.
    But still, it surprised me.
    I mean, I’m not used to adults noticing.
    Or asking.
    And it threw me enough to actually say somethinginstead of my usual “nothing.” “We had a super-weird, blue-eyed-alien kind of evening.”
    Marko laughs, “A what?” And when Marissa growls, “I can’t believe their table is
right there
,” Darren says, “So what happened?”
    “Well, let’s see. Where to begin?” I look at Marissa. “The Royal Suite?”
    “As good a place as any,” she grumbles.
    I look at Darren. “Actually, you don’t even know about the handkerchief, do you?”
    “The handkerchief? What handkerchief?”
    I take a deep breath. “Well!” So I back up to snagging the handkerchief out of the air and realizing the initials were the same as JT’s, and then meeting up with JT and Kip’s family at the muster drill and getting snookered into going with them to the Royal Suite, where we discovered we were dealing with
the
Kensington empire, including the dead dad in an urn.
    Now, while I’m talking, a dark-haired man with a big nose comes to our table and introduces himself. “I am Doyle, your waiter,” he says in an odd sort of British accent, “and this is my assistant, Arthur.” They bring us bread and water, and explain the menu and take our orders. So there are lots of interruptions, and I can tell that Darren’s losing track of the story, but instead of telling me to cut to the punch line like most people do, he says, “Back up a minute. I know we met some of these people in line, but I don’t remember their names.”
    Marissa leans in and keeps her voice low. “Kip’s theAfrican American. He’s the adopted son of Teresa, who’s the woman with the angled haircut.”
    I throw in, “The one who wants to design your next tour wardrobe, remember?”
    Darren pulls a little face. “Oh, right.”
    Marissa goes on, saying, “JT’s the boy with blond hair, and he’s the son of Lucas and LuAnn,” and I tack on, “The Tan Twins with the villas you’re welcome to use anytime.”
    Darren cringes and Marko asks, “You’re talking about the dude in the salmon-colored shirt?”
    I nod. “Him and his wife.”
    Marko butters a roll and says, “I don’t trust men who wear salmon.”
    Darren nods. “They’re definitely fishy.”
    They give each other bro grins, then Darren tells Marissa, “Continue with the lineup.”
    “Okay,” she says, looking back at the alien table. “Bradley’s the paunchy guy sitting next to Kate—”
    “The dame in diamonds?” Marko asks. “Or the one without?”
    Marissa laughs. “The dame in diamonds. She’s the family matriarch and wife of JT senior—”
    “—whose ashes are in an urn in the Royal Suite, which is why he couldn’t tux up for dinner tonight.” I look at Marissa and shake my head. “I can’t believe you remember all their names.”
    She shrugs. “I was paying attention.” She gives a haughty little look at a bread roll and rips it in two, saying, “And now I’m not.”
    “So who’s the diamondless dame?” Marko asks.
    And since I actually remember her name, I jump in with, “That’s Ginger.” I grin at him. “And she’s the dame
in
diamonds’ sister.”
    “Who also happens to be the cruise director’s mother,” Marissa adds.
    “Wait,” Darren says. “The diamondless dame is the mother of the cruise director?”
    “Right,” she tells him. “And the cruise director’s name is Noah.”
    Marko’s sipping from his water glass, but stops to sputter,
“Noah?”
    I grin at him. “Some ark he’s got, huh?”
    “No kidding!”
    Darren shakes his head. “Expect me to need reminders, but go on with your story.”
    “Where was I?”
    “In the alien hive.”
    “Oh, right!” So I go back to being in the Royal Suite and Bradley walking in and how awkward that was,