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Sammy Keyes and the Search for Snake Eyes

Cover of Sammy Keyes and the Search for Snake Eyes

Sammy Keyes and the Search for Snake Eyes

Sammy Keyes Series, Book 7
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"The most winning junior detective ever in teen lit. (Take that, Nancy Drew!)" --Midwest Children's Book Review Sammy's softball team is in contention for the Junior Slugger's Cup, and all she wants...More
"The most winning junior detective ever in teen lit. (Take that, Nancy Drew!)" --Midwest Children's Book Review Sammy's softball team is in contention for the Junior Slugger's Cup, and all she wants...More
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  • Kindle Book
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Copies-
  • Available:
    2
  • Library copies:
    2
Levels-
  • ATOS:
    4.0
  • Lexile:
    650
  • Interest Level:
    MG
  • Reading Level:
    3 - 6

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Description-
  • "The most winning junior detective ever in teen lit. (Take that, Nancy Drew!)" --Midwest Children's Book Review

    Sammy's softball team is in contention for the Junior Slugger's Cup, and all she wants to do is hunker down behind the home plate and catch strikes. But Heather Acosta brings new meaning to the term "foul ball" as she schemes to get Sammy kicked off the team.

    Then Sammy is thrown a wild pitch by a frantic girl at the mall. The girl asks Sammy to watch her bag and dashes off before Sammy discovers that the bag she's left holding contains a baby! When the girl doesn't return, Sammy decides to go find her. A heart-pounding search ensues, and leads to some situations that are definitely not covered in the softball playbook.

    The Sammy Keyes mysteries are fast-paced, funny, thoroughly modern, and true whodunits. Each mystery is exciting and dramatic, but it's the drama in Sammy's personal life that keeps readers coming back to see what happens next with her love interest Casey, her soap-star mother, and her mysterious father.

    From the Trade Paperback edition.

Excerpts-
  • Chapter One I don't generally hang out at the mall. It's full of biting shoes, shrinking clothes, and useless knickknacks. It's also crawling with poseur kids who think it's their private stage for rehearsing public coolness. Please. I get enough of that in junior high.

    But the Santa Martina mall also has a video arcade, and if you know anything about my best friend, Marissa, you know that video games are the only thing that'll make her quit talking about softball. And since we're in the middle of gearing up for the Junior Sluggers' Cup tournament, softball is all Marissa's had on her mind. For weeks. She's working up plays, she's practicing after practice, she's even talked Coach Rothhammer out of her home phone number so she can run ideas by her in the middle of the night. You have to know Ms. Rothhammer to understand the significance of this--nobody's got her number, and I mean nobody. She teaches P.E. and eighth-grade science, and she's got a reputation for being really strict and really private. Like, is she married? We don't know. Does she have kids? Dogs? Horses? Flower beds? Nobody knows. I'll bet Vice Principal Caan doesn't even know, that's how good she is at being private.

    What I do know about Ms. Rothhammer is that she's the one person who wants to bring home the Junior Sluggers' Cup as much as Marissa does. Probably for different reasons--like, I know Ms. Rothhammer couldn't care less about us winning the school a party day. More likely it has to do with showing up Mr. Vince, who told her she'd never get her hands on the cup. Of course, that was last November, after our team beat his team in our school's playoffs, so maybe she's forgotten all about that.

    Then again, maybe not.

    Anyway, the point is, Marissa McKenze has been the Softball Czar for weeks, and the past few days it's been driving me batty. And maybe I should've just said, "Marissa, enough! There's life beyond softball!" but I do live in Santa Martina, a town where everyone from Heather Acosta, Princess Prevaricator, to Mayor Hibbs, Sultan of City Hall, is into the game. So much so that people play year-round. Rain or shine, mud or flood, people play.

    So instead of telling Marissa something she'd never buy into anyhow, what I said was "Hey, you want to go to the mall and play some video games?" And since I'm never the one to suggest it, she said, "Are you kidding?" and off we went.

    Now, I'm not big on playing myself. I don't have the quarters to spare. So while Marissa's seriously invested in the skill of electro-badguy annihilation, I'm more an observer than anything else. Sure, I'll play a few games just to keep her happy, but pretty much I'm a peanut gallery of one.

    Good as she is, though, I get bored and wind up looking around at other stuff. People, mostly. And let me tell you, there are some pretty strange people in the arcade. I'm not talking about the kids, either. They just strut around, cussing and stuff, acting like they'll take you down if you look at them wrong. Like they could actually catch you with the way they wear their pants halfway down their butts.

    No, the adults are strange. It's men, mostly, and mostly they look the same--scraggly hair, faded band T-shirts, dirty jeans, and work boots. They come in alone, park themselves at the gun games, and shoot. They don't look at anyone or anything else, they just shoot. And good luck cutting in if you want a turn. I've seen kids try it, and let me tell you, it's dangerous.

    Anyway, there I was, at four in the afternoon, surrounded by the noise of electro-fire, checking out the arcade clientele, when this girl with a big red-and-white Sears bag backs right into me. Hard.

    Does she say,...
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  • Publisher
    Random House Children's Books
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Sammy Keyes and the Search for Snake Eyes
Sammy Keyes and the Search for Snake Eyes
Sammy Keyes Series, Book 7
Wendelin Van Draanen
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Wendelin Van Draanen
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