Sammy Keyes and the Killer Cruise (6 page)

Her hair’s also very
styled
. It’s thick and blond and swooped back with a dramatic gray streak in the bangs. And even though her eyes aren’t that same brilliant blue as JT’s or his dad’s or Kip’s mom’s, they’re still blue.

Standing next to her is a woman who looks a lot like her, only not as swooped or polished. She seems nice enough, too, giving us a little don’t-be-afraid wave over.

“Hello, girls,” Kate says, flashing a pearly smile. Her voice is low and warm and not at all old-lady-like. “I’m Kate and this is my sister, Ginger. So glad you could join us!”

Marissa’s all of a sudden tongue-tied—probably because JT’s watching—so I say, “I’m Sammy and this is my friend Marissa.”

“So what’s this I hear about you rescuing my husband’s
pocket square?” Kate asks as she holds it in her manicured hand.

And that’s when I notice that on the coffee table in front of her is a framed picture of a smiling older man. It’s beside a fairly large, squatty silver-and-gold vase that has a beautiful diamond pattern going around it. And I’m wondering why the vase has a
lid
, when it hits me that it’s
not
a vase.

It’s an urn.

All of a sudden, my stomach goes topsy-turvy because I know what’s inside the urn.

JT Kensington.

Well, the
original
JT Kensington.

What’s left of him anyway.

Now, having old JT in an urn on the coffee table is better than having him laid out in a casket—which, believe me, could definitely have fit inside the Royal Suite. But still. The whole time I’m telling my little story about snagging the handkerchief out of the air, I’m thinking that this situation is just
weird
. Why would the High Priestess of Blond Aliens take her dead husband’s ashes with her on a cruise? Or to a family reunion? What are they going to do—sit around and talk to the urn? And how can she be standing there so pleasantly, listening to me so intently? Actually, why is everyone listening to me like they had never heard the story before?

Why are these crazy, blue-eyed aliens acting so
interested
?

Well, except JT, who’s obviously only interested in Marissa.

Anyway, when I’m all done talking, Kate has a sort of sweet, sentimental smile on her face as she says, “Perhaps John wasn’t ready to leave us.”

Kip’s mother scowls. “He had a heart attack, Mother. Of course he wasn’t ready.”

“Teresa …,” Kate warns.

“Well, it’s true!” Teresa snaps. “John Tyler Kensington never voluntarily relinquished control of anything!”

JT’s dad shakes his head. “Are we talking about Dad or the handkerchief?”

“She’s the one connecting the two,” Teresa grumbles.

There’s a moment of awkward silence, and then JT’s dad says, “So it was you, Mother? You let the handkerchief go?”

“Of course,” she says. “And it was pure joy to watch it fly.” She sniffs the hanky and smiles like it’s a bouquet of roses. “And I think it’s very symbolic that fate has brought it back to me.”

Well,
no
, I’m thinking,
I
brought it back to you. And it’s a hanky, lady, not your husband!

And then,
ding-dong
, I’m saved by the bell.

That’s right, the Royal Suite is so big, it’s equipped with a doorbell.

“That must be Bradley and the girls,” Kate says, her blue eyes twinkling. “The reunion is complete!”

Still, for all her twinkling, no one moves a muscle to get the door. And since this seems like the perfect time to make our escape, I grab Marissa and say, “Well! It was nice meeting all of you and—”

“No, wait!” JT’s dad says, and JT’s mom actually steps in front of us, blocking our way. “Please stay,” she says softly.

And that’s when it all becomes clear.

We
have
been abducted by aliens!

“Please?” she whispers, and something about those brown eyes makes me back down. Plus Ginger’s already heading for the door, so my beautiful, smooth exit is completely messed up.

And then another blond is joining the alien hive. This one’s older and his hair is definitely abandoning ship. And even though he’s paunchy and not at all tan and there’s nothing much fashionable about his businessman clothes, he’s definitely got those Kensington eyes.

Kate gushes, “Bradley!” like he’s a dashing prince there to rescue her. And after a kiss-kiss she asks, “Where are Brooke and the girls?”

“The flu!” he says. “First it was the girls, then Brooke caught it.”

Kate’s jaw drops. “So they’re not coming?”

He shakes his head. “I barely made it myself. They’re miserable, and very disappointed.”

“Well, at least you’re here,” she says, giving him another kiss-kiss. “Now say hello to your brother and sister.”

“Like they said hello to me?” he asks, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Kate gives him a stern look. “Bradley …”

He turns and seems a little thrown to see me and Marissa, but he gets over that quick and puts on a diplomatic
smile as he looks at his blue-eyed, alien siblings. “Hello, Lucas, hello, Teresa.” Then he turns to JT’s mom and says, “LuAnn,” and then says, “Johnny,” to JT.

Everyone nods and says some version of hi, and then Kip calls out, “Hey, Uncle Bradley,” from his bar stool.

“Oh, Kipchoge. Didn’t see you there.”

Kip hops off the bar stool and moves in. “And this is Sammy and Marissa.”

I give Bradley a kind of awkward smile and wave, then say, “And Sammy and Marissa have got to get going.…”

Trouble is, before I’ve had the chance to move one step, there’s a really loud, long horn blast from outside.

“The sail!” Kate cries. “Let’s all go out to the deck!”

Now, what I’m thinking is, That was no sail! That was a huge, farty
foghorn
! And there’s no way I’m going out on a deck with these scary blond aliens!

But JT swoops in and grabs Marissa’s elbow and says, “Come on,” and off they go.

Which leaves me stuck.

“Sorry,” Kip tells me as everyone’s filing out to the suite’s enormous private deck. He says it under his breath, and when I look at him, I can tell he totally gets that I’m feeling trapped.

The foghorn blasts again.

Loud and long.

“Why do they want us to stay?” I whisper.

“Kensingtons won’t fight in public,” he whispers back.

“We’re not
public
.”

He eyes me. “You’re as close as they could get.”

“But … what’s there to fight about?”

He laughs. “A lifetime of resentments?” Then he lowers his voice even more and says, “But mostly money. Should be interesting when Grandmother does the big reveal tonight.”

I whisper louder over another foghorn blast. “What big reveal?”

“Oh, you know—what’s going to happen with the company now that Grandfather is gone.”

“What company?” I whisper.

He stares at me for a minute, like he can’t quite believe I’m asking. “Kensington colognes? Perfumes? Creams?” He grins. “Haven’t you noticed how good we all smell?” Then he adds, “I thought for sure your friend had figured it out.”

I blink at him a minute as all this sinks in. I’d seen ads on billboards and in magazines and on TV … their regal, script
K
had been around since I could remember.

No wonder they were in the Royal Suite!

I shake my head. “Marissa hasn’t made it past the blue eyes.”

He snorts and kinda rolls his brown eyes. “Yeah. And then there’s that.”

We’d been sort of hanging back as we’d talked, so we were the last ones to reach the deck doors, but just as we’re about to join the rest of the alien hive, the doorbell rings again.

“I hope that’s Noah,” Kip says, doing a quick U-turn toward the front door.

I do a U-turn, too. “Who’s Noah?”

“Ginger’s son. He’s my mom’s cousin, although
uncle
is a better description.” He tosses me a look over his shoulder. “He’s also the ship’s cruise director.”

“What’s a cruise director?”

“He’s like the cruise MC. He makes it look easy, but it’s actually a really big job. If the captain’s like the president, Noah’s the vice president.” Kip laughs. “And he’s
way
more fun then the rest of my family combined.” He whips open the door, and there’s a middle-aged man with kind of kinky, ginger-colored hair and a great big smile. “Kip, m’man!” the guy says as he comes inside. “How’s the fam? Everyone comfy?”

“With the place? Sure. With each other? Never.” He closes the door and says, “This is my friend Sammy.”

Noah sticks out a hand for me to shake. “The name’s Bond. Ionic Bond. Taken, not shared.”

I kind of blink at him like, What? but he turns to Kip and says, “You think they’ll like that one?”

“Nope.”

“Darn. And here I’ve been rehearsing it all day.” Noah drops his voice. “How about … What do you do with dead chemists?”

“Not a good idea,” Kip warns.

Noah’s eyes pop. “You barium!”

Kip busts up but then stops laughing quick. “You can’t do it, Noah. It’s tacky.”

Noah slaps his arm. “Oh, I know that. And I wouldn’t. I liked your grandfather.” He grins. “But it’s a good one, don’t you think?”

“Compared to some of the others?” Kip nods. “Definitely.”

“Everyone out watching the sail?” Noah asks, heading for the deck doors.

“Of course,” Kip tells him.

“Well, let’s go!”

So we follow Noah outside, and the first thing he says to everyone is, “If H
₂
O is the formula for water, what is the formula for ice?” and before anyone can say a thing, he cries, “H
₂
O cubed!”

“Noah has arrived,” Bradley mutters, and turns his attention back to the water. Everyone else shakes Noah’s hand or gives him a kiss-kiss—or in JT’s case, a little wave.

“Why chemistry jokes?” I whisper to Kip.

“Because of the business,” he says back. I give him a kind of blank look, so he adds, “You know, fragrance formulas? Grandfather was an amazing chemist.”

I’d never thought of perfumes and colognes as having anything to do with chemistry, but now that he’s said it, it makes sense. “Oh.” Then I kinda laugh. “Noah’s jokes are the closest I’ve come to liking chemistry.”

Now, I didn’t exactly
whisper
this. And Kip eyes me but doesn’t say anything, so it flashes through my mind that I’ve probably just insulted the entire Kensington clan.

Like telling the broccoli farmer that you don’t like vegetables.

Then Marissa waves us over to the railing where she and JT are standing, and once we’re looking over the deck, I forget about fragrance fanatics and start to get into “the
sail.” We’re moving out, leaving the port behind, and people onshore are waving, and little security boats are putting alongside, and seagulls are gliding beside us, and the breeze feels wonderful.

“See?” Marissa whispers, ’cause she can tell that I’m really liking it.

For a little while nobody says anything. We all just look out across the water at the port as we move farther and farther out to sea, and I actually forget that I’ve been abducted by aliens. Then Kate says, “I think this calls for champagne!”

“Not for me,” Noah says. “Time for me to kick into gear out there. Lots planned for tonight.” He gives his mom a kiss and says, “Glad the room worked out. Swanky, isn’t it?”

Ginger holds his cheeks and says, “You’re a gem, son.” And then he’s off, calling, “Welcome aboard, everybody!”

When he’s gone, Bradley moves away from the railing and says, “Are we having our meeting, Mother?”

“How about a toast first?”

“No champagne for me, you know that,” Bradley says with a dark look.

“Of course, dear. I have your favorite sparkling water.”

I cut in with, “Uh, we
really
need to get going. But thank you for having us over.”

Kip’s mom tries to protest, but Kate levels a look at her and says, “Enough. Let them go.” Then she looks at Kip and JT and says, “Actually, why don’t the four of you explore the ship together?”

Apparently, what Kate Kensington wants, she gets,
because Kip and JT followed us out. And I was so relieved to escape the alien hive that I didn’t even care that the boys were with us. I just wanted to get away from there as fast as I could. Maybe Marissa was too wrapped up in JT to notice, but it was more than clear to me.

The Royal Suite was about to blow.

The four of us wound up outside on Deck 11, where we played some doubles Ping-Pong. We didn’t follow any complicated rules. If the ball came your way, you hit it. That’s all. And that was just fine with me, seeing how I’d only played Ping-Pong, like, four times in my entire life.

Marissa wanted to be on JT’s team, so I wound up on Kip’s, which was fine with me, too, because he didn’t make fun of how awful I was and took the time to give me some pointers.

Mostly “You don’t have to hit it so hard!”

Plus he didn’t hit me back when I accidentally whacked him in the hand.

Or the arm.

Or the head.

I was going for the ball, okay?

Anyway, even though I was pretty awful at first, we made a great comeback, and I
was
having fun, so it took a while for me to notice that Marissa was not.

Marissa’s a good athlete. She’s an awesome softball pitcher, but she’s good at anything athletic that involves a ball.

Ball
bearings
don’t count.

She’s a terrible with a skateboard.

And never, ever hitch a ride from her on a bike.

But when there’s an actual ball involved? Watch out. Marissa will dig in and dominate.

Unless, it turns out, there’s a blue-eyed alien on her team hogging the shots. It got so bad that after the third game, I put down my paddle and said, “Isn’t that frozen-yogurt dispenser around here somewhere?”

“Good idea,” Marissa says, sliding her paddle across the table.

JT looks shocked. “Already? I was just warming up!”

“You and Kip can keep playing,” I tell him, but Kip puts his paddle down, too, and says, “Frozen yogurt sounds great!”

So we all wind up getting yogurts, but the whole time we’re hanging out, JT seems like he’s not real happy. Like he’s thinking about something else, or wishing he were somewhere else, or … I don’t know what. And then Marissa’s in the middle of telling a very funny story, about the time she got stuck on top of a chain-link fence thanks to you-know-who, when he actually gets up in the middle of a sentence and says, “I’m gonna head back.” He looks at Kip and says, “See you at dinner,” and takes off.