Sally's Bones
Authors: MacKenzie Cadenhead
Copyright © 2011 by MacKenzie Cadenhead
Cover and internal illustrations © 2011 by T.S. Spookytooth
Cover and internal design © 2011 by Sourcebooks, Inc.
Cover design by Liz Demeter/Demeter Design
Cover images © MightyIsland/iStockphoto.com; jammydesign/iStockphoto.com
Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systemsâexcept i
n the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviewsâwithout permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Published by Sourcebooks Jabberwocky, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc.
P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410
(630) 961-3900
Fax: (630) 961-2168
www.jabberwockykids.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication data is on file with the publisher.
Source of Production: Webcom, Toronto, Ontario, Canada
Date of Production: August 2011
Run Number: 15766
Sally Simplesmith was determined not to vomit. Though she had never been a fan of recess, looking at the schoolyard as it was nowâturned into a makeshift courtroom for the trial of her best friendâshe longed for the days of being picked last in kickball. Standing beside the milk-crate witness box, she scanned the scene before her. Officer Stu banged his gavel repeatedly as he shouted, in vain, for order. The evil Dog Catcher turned red and screamed for an immediate judgment. Her father, unable to look her in the eye after his shocking betrayal, nervously pinched his thumbs. The audience of bloodthirsty neighbors and maniac mutts howled cruelties at her and the accused from behind the jungle gym gallery. Sally wanted to be surprised by how quickly their adoration had turned to anger, but she wasn't. Part of her had expected this all along.
She looked, then, at her best friend, Bones, so small and helpless, boxed in by half a dozen milk crates. He tilted his head and gazed up at her with empty black eyes. She reached out her hand to him. He leaned in and gave it a single lick.
The wind wailed in the trees, nearly matching the cries of the angry mob in pitch and volume. The sound reminded Sally of that night in the graveyard when she'd first found Bones. She recalled her fear, her desperation, and finally her joy at the miraculous gift that the spirit of her mother had given herâa new best friend who would change her life forever.
Out of the corner of her eye, Sally saw the first enraged civilian break the chalk-drawn line that separated the spectators from those involved in the court's proceedings. It wouldn't be long before others followed, and she knew exactly for whom they would come.
Inhaling deeply, Sally filled her lungs with resolve. Though she would never exactly remember her next few steps, more than one witness could have sworn they heard the petite raven-haired girl whisper to the trees: “Give. Me. Death.”
2 Months, 28 Days, 9 Hours, and
12 Minutes Earlierâ¦
The morning before Sally Simplesmith came face-to-face with death, she made the acquaintance of pure evil. Leaning awkwardly against the gate of the Vanderperfect Estate, Sally chewed on her fingernails, trying desperately not to get too excited about the impending arrival of the only friend she had ever had.
Sally was not a popular girl. To suggest that she had few friends would be untrue. To say that she had none would be more technically correct. For one thing, Sally looked nothing like the other girls at Merryland Middle School. With her blunt-bobbed hair, black as a starless night, and her chalky white skin, Sally clashed with the rosy blonds and olive-toned brunettes that surrounded her. While they preferred coordinated sweater sets and perfectly tailored dresses, Sally found satisfaction in worn-in blue jeans and a rotation of concert T-shirts featuring her favorite band, Tone Death.
“
Dead Ringers?
” Chati Chattercathy once asked about the text of a particularly distressing T-shirt. It featured an image of identical twin girls hitting each other with their cell phones. “I think your shirt might be a bit too aggressive for acceptable school attire, don't you?” the almond-eyed beauty kindly offered. “Also, I don't get it.”
Encouraged by her classmate's interest, Sally explained: “Oh no, it's okay. It's a Tone Death song that's less about violence than it is about how our obsession with technology has turned us against ourselves.”
“Huh?” Chati made a face as though she had just smelled her brother's dirty gym socks.
Sally searched for a bit of Tone Death trivia that might impress. “Also, their lead guitarist uses a special kind of makeup to look like a corpse!”
Chati took two slow steps back before turning and walking quickly away. She never asked about one of Sally's T-shirts again.
“May I help you?” a nasal voice blared through the Vanderperfects' intercom.
Sally slipped from her post against the gate. Tucking her hair behind her ears, she cleared her throat. “Oh, um. I'm waiting for Viola, please. I'm Sally. Sally Simpleâ”
“Miss Vanderperfect will be out presently.” The intercom clicked off, and Sally resumed biting her nails.
Viola Vanderperfect had been Sally's best friend when they were babies. They were born on the same day, and the girls' mothers met in the maternity ward when a nearsighted nurse accidentally switched the bassinets. Choosing laughter over lawsuit, the Vanderperfects and Simplesmiths became fast friends. For the two years that followed, their daughters were almost never apart.
When the Vanderperfects moved from the sleepy town of Merryland to seek their fortune in the hustle and bustle of Watta City, the families promised to visit often. But when Sally's mother became ill, that promise grew difficult to keep. By the time Mrs. Simplesmith died, eight years had passed without a single visit. Aside from the occasional birthday card and coupon books for their wildly successful chain of nursery-rhyme-themed restaurants, the Vanderperfects fell out of touch.
None of this was more than a distant memory to Sally until two weeks ago, when her father received a letter with a Watta City return address.
“Oh, hey, kiddo. I almost forgot to tell you,” Mr. Simplesmith said as he rushed off to the research lab where he all but slept. “The Vanderperfects are moving back here at the end of the month. Remember your friend Viola? Looks like she'll be joining your class. See you around, Sal!”
Had Mr. Simplesmith not been so consumed with balancing his coffee cup on a stack of papers while acrobatically closing the door with his right elbow, he might have noticed his daughter frozen in place, the spoonful of cereal dripping milk as it approached her gaping mouth.
Within moments of regaining movement, Sally had written and mailed a letter to Viola reintroducing herself and offering to accompany her long-lost friend to her first day of school. A week later a reply arrived from Mrs. Vanderperfect with directions to their new home and an invitation to come early to join Viola on her morning dog walk.
Now that the reunion was finally here, Sally's boldness gave way to alarm. Would Viola indeed be the death-rock-loving kindred spirit of whom Sally had dreamed? A strong gust of expensive perfume snapped her back to the present, where a perfectly manicured woman with arms raised in a wide V came running down the estate's long drive.
“Sally, Sally, Sally!” Vivienne Vanderperfect burst through the gate and blew two air kisses at the wide-eyed child. “So, this is what you grew up to be.” Mrs. Vanderperfect's smile faded slightly. “Howâ¦unique.”
Sally bit her lip.
“I'm sorry, I just assumed you'd be more like your mother. The way that woman could command a room just by entering it.” Vivienne gazed into the bright blue sky. “She was the toast of Merryland without making the slightest effort. She was suchâ¦an inspiration.” Glancing back at Sally, she added, “Ah, but you do have her eyes.”
Sally blushed. “Thank you, Mrs.â”
“Oh, now, darling, call me Vivienne. Viola's just grabbing Princess Poopsy Von Vanderpoodle's leash, and then I'll let you two be off!” Vivienne looked Sally over before ultimately nodding her head in approval. “Yes, I can tell my Vi will have a powerful effect on you, Sally. And you can be there for her. Just like I was for your mother.”
Vivienne's eyes teared, and Sally pinched her own skin to stop from breaking down. Despite her obvious reservations about Sally's appearance, Mrs. Vanderperfect's determination to reach out to her dead friend's daughter suited Sally just fine. It was Viola she was here for, anyway; the friend she had waited for all her life.
One last time, Sally called up the picture of Viola she had been perfecting all week. In it, Viola wore a dog-collar necklace that complemented Sally's T-shirt of Tone Death's latest album:
You Can't Put Me in the DoghouseâI Already Live There
. In Sally's imagination, Viola already had three piercings in her left ear, including one up at the top, in the exact spot Sally's father refused to consider until his daughter turned eighteen. In her mind, Viola was everything Sally was not quite, but that she could surely become, with a little help from an old friend.
Of course, what Viola Vanderperfect turned out to be was something Sally was not at all. The real Viola gracefully glided to her mother's side. Her strawberry-blond hair bounced and swayed as though a hidden fan was blowing only on her. Her white sweater and pink skirt adorably complemented the white poodle in a pink sweater that heeled elegantly at her side. A bright smile of impossibly white teeth blossomed on Viola's face, and Sally could have sworn she saw an actual twinkle in the most perfect Vanderperfect's eye.
“Sally, it's been such a long time. Would you care to join Princess Poopsy and me on our walk?” Viola fluttered her eyelashes. Though she looked nothing like what Sally had pictured, she seemed friendly enough.
“Uh, yeah. OK. Sure.”
Viola kissed her mother good-bye, and Sally followed the beautiful girl and her well-groomed dog onto the sidewalk. While they pranced, she lumbered. While they nimbly skirted trash cans and baby carriages, Sally tripped over a toddler, making him cry. Finally turning onto a quiet side street, Sally sighed with relief that they were alone.
The mismatched girls continued to walk in silence. On Sally's part, she simply did not know what to say to this girly girl. A poorly chosen opening had damaged potential friendships before, so Sally kept her mouth shut, hoping Viola would be brave enough to break the ice.
Sally was focused on Princess Poopsy's unparalleled prance when Viola finally made a peep. “
Peep, peep!
” she said to Poopsy, who obediently squatted on the grass.
“Wow! That was amazing! How'd you do that?” Sally asked, her vocal paralysis forgotten.
“Impressive training and impeccable pedigree,” Viola singsonged. Her airy voice lilted like a lullaby. It was so soothing that, at first, Sally didn't notice the dark scowl that had eclipsed her companion's face.
“Unlike Princess Poopsy, both training and pedigree are virtues that you, Sally Simplesmith, will never possess. After today's obligatory get-together, you will be worth no more of my time, and I needn't take up any more of yours. We will part ways a few blocks from school, after which we'll only ever have to pass each other silently in the halls. Are we clear?” Viola's raised eyebrows seemed to indicate that she awaited a reply.
“But we used toâ” was all Sally managed before Viola interrupted with such an honest laugh that, had any passersby heard it, they'd have thought these girls were enjoying themselves immensely.
“Waitâwait,” Viola blurted between fits of hysteria. “You actually thought someone like me would be friends with someone like you? But why? You're nothing special. You're not even fit to be friends with my dog!”
Sally's skin began to prickle, and her cheeks stung as though they had been slapped. Composing herself, Viola leaned in close. “Sally, sweetie, let me make this perfectly clear. If you tell anyone that we were childish enough to be friends when we were babies, your days as a lovable loser will be over.”
Smiling brightly, the stunningly pretty and breathtakingly mean Viola Vanderperfect linked arms with the girl she had just crushed and guided her back to the estate's front gate.
“Wait here for me, won't you, Sally?” Viola asked, loud enough for her mother to hear. “I just need to grab my bag, and then we can go!”
Sally saw Vivienne Vanderperfect smile as she watched the girls from her kitchen window. She opened her mouth to say somethingâanythingâthat would expose Viola as the terrible fraud she was.
“Uhn⦔ was the only sound that came out.