SammyKeyesandtheArtofDeception - (EPUB全文下载)

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ALSO BY WENDELIN VAN DRAANEN
Sammy Keyes and the Hotel Thief
Sammy Keyes and the Skeleton Man
Sammy Keyes and the Sisters of Mercy
Sammy Keyes and the Runaway Elf
Sammy Keyes and the Curse of Moustache Mary
Sammy Keyes and the Hollywood Mummy
Sammy Keyes and the Search for Snake Eyes
Sammy Keyes and the Psycho Kitty Queen
How I Survived Being a Girl
Flipped
Swear to Howdy
Shredderman: Secret Identity
Shredderman: Attack of the Tagger
Shredderman: Meet the Gecko
Shredderman: Enemy Spy
Dedicated to my darling sister Nanine—may your artistic talents continue to blossom!
A chromatic palette of thanks to my excellent editor, Nancy Siscoe, and my ever-creative husband, Mark Parsons. Also, thanks to the mysterious H. Bizot, whose painting continues to inspire.
PROLOGUE   
Marissa says I'm a magnet for mayhem. That wherever I go, so goes trouble.
Some friend, huh?
But I do have to admit it's a little strange. I mean, how can you go someplace as boring as an art gallery and wind up attacking someone?
And you'd think it would all have ended right there, but no. I got crushed in a pileup. A pileup of jealousy and lies. And the harder I tried to get up, to get out, the more pinned down I became.
Who knew art could be so dangerous?
ONE
March is windy in Santa Martina. And my theory is, it does something wicked to the air. Maybe it whooshes up devil dust and pixie pollen, I don't know. What I do know is, if you're a quiet, in-your-seat-when-you're-supposed-to-be kind of person in February, by the middle of March you'll be antsy. Hyper. Like all you want is to get outside and tear it up in nature's big gust bowl.
Which I guess is why I wasn't completely flattened when Marissa charged me out of nowhere between classes, practically swung around my neck, and cried, “Guess what!”
It's the kind of thing you learn to expect in the middle of March.
So I just hitched my backpack back on my shoulder and said, “What?”
“Danny wants to meet me at the Faire!” she says, whirling around with her arms spread wide.
“The Renaissance Faire?” I ask her, because Ms. Pilson's been talking it up all week in English class, saying it'll “tune our tympanic membranes” for some play her Drama Club is putting on next week.
Hop-hop, hippity-hop Marissa goes, like a manic March hare. “Yeah! Can you believe it? Can you even believe it?”
Well, no, I couldn't. Danny's one of those cool dudes, you know? The kind who walks cool and talks cool and even puts his jacket on cool. And since Marissa's a sucker f ............

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