Free Sammy Keyes and the Sisters of Mercy by Wendelin Van Draanen Page B

the dish with the wafers on it.
    It was the clink that made me quit thinking about Nun Wars and look up at the communion table. It was the clink that made me forget all about singing in church and remember the missing goblets.
    And when I remembered where I’d heard that sound before, my heart started bouncing around in my chest and my hands started going clammy. And the more I thought about it, the more sure I was that I knew who had taken Father Mayhew’s goblets.
    And who had taken his cross.

It wasn’t hard getting away from Grams and Hudson. They were so wrapped up in the Sisters of Mercy that they didn’t even ask me where I was going when I said, “See you back home in a while.”
    I took Church Street to Bradley, across to Main, and then under the freeway. And about halfway across the field I started thinking that calling Dot or Marissa would have been a better idea than taking off on my own. I mean, it was the middle of the day and there were cars and people buzzing all along Main Street, but I couldn’t really hear them anymore. And the farther away from the street I got, the quieter it was and the more I was wishing Marissa and Dot were with me so at least I could tell them “Shh! Shh!” and
hear
something.
    By the time I got to the bushes, my heart was flopping around like a goldfish in grass. I snuck from one bush to the next, looking for any sign of the Girl, and when I got close enough to see the box, I crawled behind a bush and waited. And waited and waited some more. And when I was sure she didn’t know I was there, I started tossing rocks.
    The first couple landed in the sand in front of the box,and the next one didn’t really connect because it was blocked by a tumbleweed. But then I landed one,
whack
, against the front flap.
    I waited another minute, and when she didn’t come out, I decided it was time for me to go in. I scrambled down the bank and when I got to the box, I stood to one side and pulled open the flap. Now, I’m half expecting to see the Girl sitting there, ready to blow my brains out, but what I see instead is an old down sleeping bag, a pile of clothes, and a paper sack.
    The paper sack is full, but I can’t tell of what. And I’m thinking that maybe the goblets and cross are stashed inside it, so I take a quick look over both shoulders and dive inside.
    When the flap comes down, it’s suddenly
dark
inside. And it smells wet. Wet and musty—like old magazines in a basement. And I don’t know if it was the Hefty bag on the roof keeping all the moisture in or if all refrigerator boxes smell that bad after a while, but the place was in serious need of some ventilation.
    After a minute my eyes got used to the darkness, so I crawled over to the grocery sack and opened it up. And what’s inside? Cans. No cross, no goblets, just cans of food. Pineapple, macaroni and cheese, beans, stew, and spaghetti. Lots of spaghetti. And next to the cans is an old can opener and a spoon.
    I give up on the bag and try the pile of clothes, but there’s nothing in that, either. Just an old pair of jeans, a couple of shirts and a jacket. And I’m just about to put the clothes back the way I’d found them when I noticewriting on the inside of the jacket. I flip it back open and there on the label is HOLLY JANQUELL .
    So. Her name was Holly. I flipped the jacket over and realized that maybe I was jumping to conclusions. Maybe this was just a jacket she’d gotten from the Salvation Army.
    I probably should’ve just backed right out of there—I mean, I didn’t see the cross or the goblets, and that
was
why I was there. But I couldn’t quit wondering whether Holly Janquell was a girl who owned nothing but one jacket, one sleeping bag, and a sack of canned spaghetti, or if she was a girl with so many jackets that she could give one away to the Salvation Army and never miss it. So I started looking for something else with a name on it.
    And there I am, pawing through the clothes, when light