Mummy by Caroline B. Cooney Read Free Book Online Page B

doorman would definitely notice her. That was his job. He was good at it. And she did not have a cellar or an attic. Apartments never had extra closets hanging around waiting to hold something large. And the mummy would have to be held for a while. Senior prank day was always Mischief Night, just before Halloween, two weeks off. If she figured out how to get the mummy tonight, she’d have a lot of other problems along with the mummy.
    Dr. Brisband suggested that they move down the hall to Impressionist Paintings, where he had a new acquisition for them to gaze upon and there were refreshments.
    Everybody was happy to hear the word refreshments. It didn’t matter how cultural an event was. Whether you were a toddler or a grandparent, you hoped there would be food.
    Emlyn stuck her notebook back into her purse. She knelt as if to tie a shoelace. Many rows of folding wooden chairs were between her and the exiting Friends. In moments, Emlyn was alone in the Great Hall. How long would refreshments hold out? Twenty minutes? An hour?
    There are no iron grilles between me and the Egyptian Room, thought Emlyn. What if I go there right now? Right up those huge stairs.
    She was shaking slightly. It was odd to see her hands quiver, as if she were older than the very old Friends with their silver hair and age-spotted skin.
    If I go up there, she thought, first I have to lift the Plexiglas case. Do I trust Maris’s version that it can be lifted easily? But say I get it off. I rest it against the wall. There is the mummy, waiting. I lift the mummy.
    She was amazed by the depth of her desire to take the mummy and her terror of actually attempting it. She felt as if she herself were hanging in the bell tower, swinging like a pendulum from one choice to another.
    She was trembling in places she had not known you could tremble. It wasn’t visible. There was no quiver extending from her ankles to her fingers. But the tremor of excitement and dread was racing through every vein and artery.
    She could do it now. It was literally within reach.
    The wide stairs were rough stone, with bands of shining metal crossing each tread, and the banisters were also stone, carved and fluted for eager fingers to grip.
    Go, she said to herself. Go.
    The columns and shadows of the Great Hall overlapped and slid. If a guard was nearby, he was hiding like a little kid behind a pillar. Emlyn doubted that that was the behavior or the size of guards. Once more, Emlyn opened the MUSEUM OFFICIALS ONLY door to the offices. Lights were on, but nobody seemed to be there. When she closed the door behind her, it clicked loudly.
    If anybody catches you, you’re looking for a bathroom, she told herself.
    She skipped the secretary’s office, the Trustees’ Room, and Dr. Brisband’s office. Sure enough, the first unknown door she opened was the staff bathroom. It locked from the inside. She might need a door like that.
    There was one more unknown door. Emlyn listened hard and heard nothing The depth of the silence was heavy and complete. She opened the door fast, before she could panic. The room was empty. Just more desks, computer screens, and stuff. She found it hard to believe a museum needed all this.
    At the back of the room was an original door from mansion days. Huge, heavy, and impressive, a door requiring a servant’s strong arm so that a lady in a fine gown could pass through it. Emlyn required only a way out. Now she had one.
    She went back to the arrow labeled FREIGHT ELEVATOR.
    Around a corner was a final door that took Emlyn out of the mansion and into the museum, through a large utility hall with vinyl floors and an acoustical tile ceiling. There was the freight elevator. Buttons on the wall said UP and DOWN.
    Her thoughts splintered and fell, like broken glass. Every thought had a sharp edge and the ability to cut.
    She could take the mummy, carry it into the freight elevator, slip out that side door, and be free in the streets.
    And then what? Bring the