It isn’t legal,” Cass said as we walked toward Ben’s house. “We’re breaking in!”
“Like anyone cares,” I shot back. “Nobody’s been there for years.” Both of us had changed into long pants and shirts with the sleeves rolled up. I’d ditched the flip-flops and put on sneakers—my toes were still itchy from this morning.
“Seriously, Jemmie. Don’t you think it’s wrong?”
“We’ll probably take one look at the junk inside and close it up again. You know Ben won’t let it rest till he sees what’s in there.” Even though Nana Grace says ‘curiosity killed the cat,’ I wanted to see too.
My friend’s face lit up. She waved both hands. “Hi, Ben!”
Ben and his brother were sitting on the steps of Big’s porch. Ben’s school pack leaned against his leg. A metal bar stuck out the top. Cody’s detective hat sat in his lap.
“Justin’s putting on long pants,” Cody whispered as we trotted up.
“I wouldn’t mind if yesterday’s T-shirt went too,” I said, plopping down next to Cody.
Cass perched on the porch rail. Watching Ben, she swung her legs, flirting. I noticed she didn’t say a word to him about not liking the break-in.
“Awful quiet in there,” Ben whispered, looking back at Big’s front door.
“His parents can’t fight all the time,” Cass whispered back.
“Why’re we whispering?” I whispered.
“So they won’t hear us.” Cody leaned in closer and cupped his hand to my ear. “His parents are dangerous.”
The door flew open and Big stumbled out, along with a whiff of bacon and a few notes of someone singing off-key.
“Everything okay in there?” Ben asked.
“Dad’s on a cooking rampage.”
“Oh, yeah.” Ben slung a pack strap over his shoulder. “The apron and singing thing.”
“Pretty much.” Justin thumped down the steps.
I jumped off the top step to the ground. “What’re you two talking about, aprons and singing?”
Big rolled his eyes toward Ben. “You had to go and bring that up?”
“Well?” I nudged his shoulder with my fingertips—he was wearing a clean shirt.
He stared for a second at the spot where my fingers had been. “Yeah, well, when Dad’s trying to get back on Mom’s good side, he turns into the psycho chef and puts on her “Kiss the Cook” apron. He clangs pots and pans around, sings in French—crap like that.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” I said.
“Actually, it’s pretty scary. After cooking and singing comes the next fight. Things are either crazy-good or crazy-bad at my house. We don’t do normal.”
I pointed at his clean shirt. “You play golf?”
“Golf?” Big glanced down and read the letters, upside down. “‘A REAL SWIIIIIINGER!’ Double-crap. It’s my dad’s.” His ears turned pink. “We have laundry issues.”
He needed a Nana Grace at his house, and not just for laundry. She’d straighten out his parents too.
Embarrassed, Big said, “Let’s do this thing,” and broke into a jog. Fine by the rest of us. The pack slapped Ben’s back as we jogged down the street.
But in a few seconds Big slowed to a walk. “On second thought, what’s the rush? We have all summer.” I could hear him breathing through his mouth. Big doesn’t have much run in him.
We climbed over the fence and cut into the woods.
At first we couldn’t even find the garage. We went to where we thought it was, but it wasn’t.
Big rested his hands on his thighs, panting. “All right, who moved it? Cass?”
My best friend crossed her eyes at him.
We circled back and tried again. A couple of times Ben looked at Cody like he was going to ask him to put the hat on, only that would be like saying he believed in magic hats.
After a while, Cody disappeared under the hat, but it didn’t help.
“Bet we went too far,” I said. It was awfully hot to be chasing around after a building nobody could find, not even the hat.
Just then Cody whooped. “Hey! There it is! Straight ahead, guys.”
Dark and solid between the trees, I don’t know how we missed it. It was suddenly there, like someone had just plopped it down.
“Way to go, Cody!” Ben tried to give Cody a high five, but ended up high-fiving the hat Cody held up.
“Way to go, hat!” Cody whooped, sticking out his skinny chest—since he’d found the hat, Cody was feeling pretty good about himself.
Ben turned back to the building, his knuckles on his hips. “It’s bigger than I remembered.”
“True,” Big agreed. “Usually things seem bigger when you think about them, but not this time.”
Cody danced from foot to foot, proud about finding the place with the help of the hat. “I bet there’s a lot of cool stuff in there!”
Cass hugged herself. “But none of it is ours.”
“True,” said Cody, swinging the other way. “None of it.”
Ben dug through the pack and came up with a screwdriver. He rammed it into one of the screws that held the metal hasp to the door. Big watched—like Ben needed an audience to use a screwdriver. I wasn’t about to stand around and watch Big watch Ben. I grabbed the crowbar out of Ben’s pack and worked the flat end under the edge of a shutter. “Come on, Cass. Help me.”
Four hands would’ve fit fine on the crowbar, but Cass folded her legs and sat on the ground. Cody copied her. She twisted the end of her ponytail around her hand. “I think this is called breaking and entering.”
While I yanked on the crowbar, Ben messed with the first screw, but he couldn’t budge it. “Rusted in tight.” He held out his hand and Big slapped a can of WD-40 into it. Ben sprayed the screws and handed the can back.
I clutched the crowbar in my sweaty hands and pulled hard, but nothing happened. “Put the can down and get over here, Big, I need your weight.”
He looked stunned—sheesh, I didn’t mean it like that.
“One megaton, coming up.” He put the WD-40 on the step.
I slid my hands down the warm metal bar. “Grab ahold.”
He gripped the free end in both hands.
“On three,” I said. “One…two…three.” We leaned back and the nails made a little squeak, but they didn’t pull free. “Again, Big! We’re getting it!” This time we threw ourselves back hard, but the crowbar popped loose and flipped out of our hands.
Big went down, flat on his back. I crash-landed on top of him, my cheek mashed against his neck, feeling his pulse. I took a sharp breath. Up close, Big smelled sweet, like cherry Kool-Aid.
“Sorry,” he gasped. “Sorry. I didn’t know the power of my own weight! Sorry if I’m sweating on you! Sorry!”
“It’s okay.” I pushed up on my arms. I’d never been this close to him—or any guy—unless I was stealing a ball.
I dusted myself off like it was no big deal. “Let’s try again, but this time, hold back a little.”
We tugged at the crowbar again, but standing next to Big was different now. I kept wondering about the cherry Kool-Aid smell and feeling like we were still touching. “How are you doing with those screws, Ben?” I asked.
Ben thumbed the last screw down into his pocket. The lock was still locked, but the piece of metal that attached it to the door frame swung loose. “We’re good to go.” But Ben didn’t open the door. Now that it was time to see what was inside, he was stretching it out.
“You want to bet the big prize turns out to be a push mower and a couple of dented garbage cans?” said Big.
Ben grabbed the doorknob, then hesitated. “Cody? You wanna do the honors? You led us to this place.”
Cody walked over to the door slowly. He gripped the knob, let the hat drop over his eyes, and froze.
“What’re you waiting for?” Ben asked. “Permission from the hat?”
I nudged his shoulder. “Do it!” I said. Even in pants and long sleeves I was getting bitten up. I lowered my voice. “This is the hat speaking.”
Cody stood, hand on the doorknob. “That’s not how the hat talks, Jemmie.”
While we waited for the hat to give Cody the go-ahead, Ben fished two flashlights out of his pack and handed one to Big.
“All right, Cody. What’s the word from the hat?” Ben asked.