I bit my lip. Good point. “Mr. Tipkins said he keeps his answers in a locked cabinet in his classroom,” I pointed out. “I’d guess most of the other teachers do the same. And if their cabinets look anything like Tipkins’s ancient thing, they’re not exactly vaults, you know? Anyone could have broken in and stolen them.”
“But wouldn’t the teachers notice? I mean, if the locks were broken on their file cabinets?” Sam said.
“Maybe whoever was stealing the answers didn’t break the locks. Maybe they just picked them.”
Chase paused, then nodded. “I suppose it’s possible. But wouldn’t someone have seen them?”
“Not if they went in at night,” Kyle offered. “No one’s around then. They could have broken into the school, slipped into the classroom, picked the lock, and copied the test answers with no problem.”
“This is a lot of ‘could have’ and ‘maybe,’” Chase pointed out. “It’s easy to say someone broke into the school, but how easy would it really be to do?”
I had a bad feeling I was going to regret this but… “I think we need to find out.”
Three pairs of eyes turned my way.
“What do you mean?” Sam asked slowly, even though I could tell by the way her eyes were narrowing at me that she had a pretty good idea what I meant.
“Well,” I said, clearing my throat with a bravado that I most certainly did not feel, “I think we need to find out how easy it is to break into the school at night. By breaking in ourselves.”
“Dude!” Kyle said.
Chase just grinned. “You are a baaaaaad girl, Hartley Grace Featherstone,” he said.
Coming from him that sounded like a compliment.
Even worse… I kinda liked it.
We all agreed to meet up in front of the school beneath the shaded oak tree after dark.
Which, I realized, was easier said than done.
As soon as school got out, Mom was parked at the curb, windows open, her stereo blasting Aerosmith. I made for the car at a dead run, then slumped down in my seat, shooing her away from the curb before every single person in San Jose heard her screeching power ballad.
Once home, Mom made me do my homework in the kitchen, where she could “keep an eye on my safety.” One macroburger and edamame fries dinner later, I was still trying to figure out how to slip away from the SMother.
I had snuck out of my room after dark once or twice before but only in emergencies. There was the one time that I’d hopped out of my bedroom window and the other time I’d gone up into the attic, out that window, and then slid down the roof until I hit the top of Mom’s minivan. But Mom had found out about both routes, first installing an alarm on my window, then boarding up the one in the attic. Which left precious few ways out of the house.
There was one window in Mom’s room, but I realized as I snuck down the hallway to check it out while Mom was in the bathroom, the two-story drop was a no-go. A large oak tree grew just a few feet away, but I’d have to be either a spider monkey or Spider-Man to reach it from her room.
Which left just one alternative: the front door.
I waited an agonizing eternity while she cleaned up dinner and tidied the kitchen, then sent me upstairs to my room and settled herself in the living room to watch the cooking channel with her laptop. I paced my carpeted floor, listening to the muted sounds of the TV, and watching the sun sink lower and lower in the sky, until our backyard was bathed in deep, inky blues.
It was dark. Everyone would be waiting for me. I had to get out.
I peeked around the corner of the stairwell.
Mom was tucked under an afghan on the sofa, her laptop perched on her knees, fingers flying. Then they paused. Mom giggled. Then she began typing again. Paused. Giggled.
I rolled my eyes. Mom was IM’ing with Mr. Cyber Wonderful again.
On the one hand, this was so wrong. I mean, Mom was way too old to be giggling. It wasn’t good for her. Who was this guy she was chatting with, anyway? He could be anyone-some pervert, a stalker, a serial killer. While we had regular lectures at our school about cyber safety, I was afraid Mom’s generation knew next to nothing.
On the other hand, the distraction was just what I needed.
At the base of the stairs sat the kitchen on one side and the living room on the other. At the far end of the living room was the front door. I’d have to somehow cross the entire room and open the door without Mom seeing me.
I did a deep breath and took one tentative step down the carpeted stairs, then paused, listening for any sounds of protest from Mom. Nothing. I took another and another. I was now completely exposed. If Mom turned around, I was going to have to do some fancy explaining about why I was dressed in all black just to sneak downstairs for a bedtime snack. I quickly stepped down the last of the stairs, and ducked to my knees, falling to the floor behind the back of the sofa.
Mom was just on the other side. I could hear her breathing over the sounds of her keyboard clacking. I made my own breath as shallow as I could, slowly moving one leg then the other, making a snail’s pace as I crawled across the room. I could see the front door. I was just a few feet away. If I could cross to it without making a sound, I had a fighting chance of getting out.
Slowly, painstakingly, I crawled the length of the sofa. At one point, Mom stretched, and I swear I almost had a heart attack. But she didn’t turn around, instead laughing out loud at something her cyber guy said.
So age inappropriate.
I slowly continued my trek until I hit the end of the sofa. Then, I crawled low to the ground toward the door, ducking behind a pillar as I reached up for the front knob.
I turned, one half inch at a time, slowly, waiting for just the right moment, when the TV switched to a noisy commercial for OxiClean, to turn the knob all the way to the right until the telltale click sounded. I pulled the door open an inch, then another, cringing as it squeaked.
But by some miracle of miracles, Mom was so engrossed in her conversation that she didn’t turn around. I took the opportunity and quickly slipped outside, shutting the door with a soft click behind me.
Then I dashed across the front lawn at sprinter speeds, half expecting Mom to come rushing after me. I didn’t stop running until I hit the end of the block.
Phase One: down. Operation Escape Mom was a success.
I slowed to a walk, letting my breathing return to normal as I quickly headed toward school.
Now, on to Phase Two.
I only hoped that breaking into the high school went as smoothly as breaking out of Mom’s.
Chapter Fifteen
OUR SCHOOL WAS BUILT IN THE 1920S, DECORATED WITH huge stone columns and a neoclassical design that made it look like a cross between the White House and a Roman palace during the day. At night, however, it was lit from below, cast with an eerie glow that made it look like a giant white mausoleum squatting in the middle of downtown.
A pair of ancient oak trees flanked the stone building, and as I made my way across the front lawn, I saw Sam, Kyle, and Chase standing under one, Sam dancing nervously from foot to foot.
“What took you so long?” she asked as I approached their group. I noticed they’d each gone with the same wardrobe theme I had: all black. Sam and Kyle were in matching hoodies. Chase? Honestly, he didn’t look a whole lot different than any other day, in black jeans and a black long-sleeved T.
“Sorry,” I told them. “Had to sneak past Mom.”
“Tell me about it,” Sam said, rolling her eyes. “I had to promise Kevin two tubes of cookie dough to distract my parents while I slipped out the back door.”
“Are we ready to do this?” Chase cut in, all business.
Sam bit her lip, did some more dancing around on the damp grass. “Sorta. Kinda.”
“Sam, you okay?” I asked.
“Well, it’s just that… if I get caught, this is going on my permanent record. Plus, I’m pretty sure my dad will kill me.”
