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

scream.
    I’ve heard lots of screams in my life. There’s the happy kind; the frustrated “We lost the game by one point” kind; the creeped-out “There’s a spider on my arm” kind. But this isn’t any of those.  This is the “There’s a stranger hiding behind the shower curtain with an ax” kind. It sounds super close, like whoever’s screaming is in this hallway . I grab the skateboard, hold it up like a weapon, and whip around. But there’s nobody here but me.
    Another scream echoes through the house, long and loud and terrified, and this time it sounds like it’s coming from inside the storage room. This must be what I was hearing earlier. I can’t believe my grandmother’s sleeping through this. Should I wake her up or investigate the situation myself?
    I still haven’t made up my mind when I hear a totally normal, conversational woman’s voice say, “Knock it off, Tommy.” As I’m trying to make sense of this, I hear that creaking door sound again, followed by a third voice shrieking, “Let me out! Let me out!”
    Oh wow, there are lots of people in there. My grandmother has multiple people locked inside her storage room. No wonder this hallway is off-limits. If this is the secret Grandma Jo told her friends I couldn’t keep, she’s 100 percent right. I’m going to do whatever I have to do to set them free.
    Even though my heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my fingertips, I reach out and knock softly on the door. There’s no answer, so I knock again, louder this time. “Hello?” I call. “I’m here to help you. Can you open the door?”
    I hear a rustle. “Knock it off, Tommy,” a voice says again.
    â€œIt’s not Tommy,” I tell them. “My name is AJ. Tommy’s not going to hurt you anymore.” I have no idea who Tommy is, but it seems like the right thing to say.
    â€œLet me introduce you to my trusty knife,” a raspy voice says, and a thrill of terror races up my spine. I jerk away from the door and stumble back a few steps. Is there a guard inside the room, watching my grandmother’s prisoners to make sure they don’t escape? Or was that one of the hostages talking? I know people in prison sometimes make knives out of things like toothbrushes if they’re desperate to protect themselves. What has Grandma Jo been doing to these people?
    â€œPlease put your knife away,” I say, trying to sound calm. “I’m unarmed. I’m just a kid. Can you tell me what’s going on? Are you tied up? How many of you are there? Should I call the police?”
    For a few seconds there’s no answer. Then I hear the desperate woman’s voice again. “Let me out, let me out!”
    I wonder if I should call the cops right now and let them deal with this situation, but I doubt they’ll take me seriously if I don’t have any proof. “Okay,” I say. “You don’t have to tell me anything. I know you’re scared. I’m going to get my phone and something to open the door, and then I’ll come right back and get you out of there.”
    I fly upstairs, careful to avoid the creaky spots I discovered earlier, and grab my phone off the table next to my bed. Then I dig through my backpack until I find my library card—Maddie and I found an online video about how to open a locked door with one. I’ve only managed to do it once before, on her upstairs bathroom door (to the great annoyance of her oldest sister, Lindsay, who was getting out of the shower). Let’s hope I can do it again, now that it really matters.
    Back in the forbidden hallway, I knock gently on the door again. “I’m here,” I say. “I’m going to try to open the door now, okay? Please stand back.” Nobody argues with me, so I figure I’m welcome.
    Just like in the video, I slip the library card between