The Classy Crooks Club by Alison Cherry Read Free Book Online Page A

I’m here. But instead she sighs and says, “Good night, Annemarie.”
    â€œGood night.”
    I’m obviously not going to sleep this early, but in case Grandma Jo checks under my door for a stripe of light, I turn off the lamp and read one of Ben’s old comic books by flashlight for a while.  After about an hour, I tiptoe down the hall and press my ear against the door of the master bedroom. I’m not sure I’ll be able to tell whether my grandmother is asleep, but then a snore that sounds like a chain saw rips through the air, and I have to clap my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing. My grandmother is ridiculously unladylike when she’s sleeping. I like her so much better this way.
    I go back to my room, switch my light on, and wonder what to do with my newfound freedom. I consider taking my skateboard out after all, but it doesn’t seem smart to skate around in the dark in an unfamiliar neighborhood. Then again, that doesn’t prevent me from skating inside . Thinking about how much Grandma Jo would hate that makes me smile. Maybe I can even figure out where those weird noises from earlier were coming from, now that everything’s so quiet and still.
    I put on my sneakers, grab my board and my flashlight, and tiptoe downstairs, testing each step before I put my full weight down to make sure it doesn’t creak. I had thought Grandma Jo’s house was creepy during the day, but it is way creepier in the dark. As I tiptoe across the foyer, I have this eerie feeling that someone is watching me, even though Stanley and Debbie are long gone by now. It’s probably just all the portraits on the walls that are making me uneasy. About half of them are of people, but the other half are of birds, like the one in my bedroom. It figures that my grandmother would love the one animal I can’t stand. I lower my flashlight and try to keep my eyes on the cold, smooth marble floor so I won’t feel their beady little painted eyes staring at me.
    There’s a small creaking noise to my right, and I whip the flashlight in that direction, half expecting to see my grandmother lurking in the shadows, her eyes glowing yellow like a raccoon’s. But there’s nothing there, only the long, empty hallway Grandma Jo told me was off-limits.
    Perfect .
    I switch on the light in my grandmother’s study and leave the door open enough that I can see where I’m going. Then I hop onto my board, and having it under my feet makes me feel more like myself. The tension drains out of my shoulders as I glide up and down, humming softly to myself. Skating on a marble floor isn’t the same as skating on the sidewalk—there are no gritty bits to help me get traction—but I get used to it pretty quickly. It becomes a problem only when I try to do an ollie and the board shoots out from under me and hits the door to the storage room with an earth-shattering bang.
    I’m positive Grandma Jo is going to appear any second wearing a long black nightgown and toting a shotgun, but I don’t hear any footsteps, just a slow, quiet creaking sound. I’ve probably knocked the storage room door ajar. I press myself into the shadows and hold very still until I’m sure nobody’s coming, and then I tiptoe toward the room to close the door back up.
    But it’s solidly shut. When I test the knob, I find that it’s locked.
    Okay. That’s kind of weird. My heart’s beating quickly now, but there are a bunch of doors in this hallway, and any one of them could’ve creaked. Maybe it was the house settling, like my dad said earlier. But now I’ve freaked myself out, and sneaking around in the dark is starting to seem more terrifying than fun. I decide to steal another piece of cake from the kitchen, take it back upstairs, and call it a night. Maybe I’ll eat it in my bed. Grandma Jo would hate that.
    I’m reaching for my board when I hear a girl