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I flash her a smile. “Sorry to disappoint you, Pheebs, but no such luck. This is sheer coincidence. Extremely fortunate coincidence for you.”
“Why?” Casey asks. “Do you know how to pick locks?”
I chuckle. “Not quite. But, let’s just say I’m good at finding a way to get into places I don’t belong.”
Casey laughs, clearly catching the memorable high school incident I’m alluding to. And if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear that Phoebe cracks the slightest of grins as well.
Senior year, I played a prank by breaking into the school, totally undetected, and supergluing every single thing in Principle Martin’s office onto its surface.
His computer, his mug, every one of his pencils and pens, every folder, every potted plant, totally stuck to its surface and immovable.
I was nice enough to use a brand of glue that gets less sticky over time, so eventually he was able to move everything again with no harm done, but he blew a gasket when he walked into his office the next morning and found out.
Everyone knew it was me, but no one could prove it, as I skillfully avoided all surveillance cameras.
If I can do that, finding my way into this house should be no big deal.
I set my cup of coffee down on their stoop and walk to the front windows. “I’m guessing you lock these?” I ask as I test them, finding that they do. “Smart,” I nod.
“No back door, either,” Casey says.
Their house is the last one on his block, so it has an exposed side facing the small street that runs adjacent. I meander over, and when I look up, I feel the recognition of opportunity I get on the ice when I spot an opening to take a shot on goal.
“Do you guys lock that window up there?” It’s a small, rectangular window that I’m assuming is to their bathroom. It’s one of the older kind of windows that’s easier to open from the outside.
“I don’t think so,” Casey says. She turns to Phoebe. “I never do. Do you?”
Phoebe shakes her head. “Nope.”
I nod, determined. “That’s where I’m going, then.”
“How?” Casey asks.
I’m already walking towards the back of the house. “I’m sure someone around here has a ladder in their backyard,” I say. Sure enough, I spot one a couple houses down. I jog over to grab it. No need to wake them up to ask if I can borrow it, I figure. They won’t miss it by the time I bring it back.
I set up the ladder, and the two girls hold the sides to steady it.
“Promise you won’t let it tip over and break my neck?” I ask, looking at Phoebe.
She smiles and holds her right hand up, so that I can see her index and middle fingers clearly crossed. “Promise.”
With a laugh, I start to climb up. Honestly, even though I joke with Phoebe about her tipping the ladder over, for some reason I feel more comfortable with my safety in her hands than in someone else’s.
That’s definitely weird, right?
But I don’t let myself get sucked into thinking about it too much. I have a mission to accomplish, after all. There’s no way I’m letting two girls stay stranded outside in the middle of the night, even if one of them does hate my guts.
I get to the top of the ladder and feel around the edges of the screen.
“I’m going to have to tear off the screen to try to push the window open,” I yell down to the girls. And when I glance down to check their reactions, seeing the angle at which I’m looking at Phoebe from above, I suddenly really, really wish she were wearing a low-cut shirt. “Don’t worry,” I add with a wink, “I’ll pay you back for the replacement when I get my NHL signing bonus.”
Casey chuckles at my joke. Do I even have to report that Phoebe doesn’t?
Can’t even get a pity laugh out of the girl when I’m trying to keep her from having to sleep on the grass tonight. Tough crowd.
I break the screen with my finger and find the latch that unhooks it from the window. I toss it to the ground behind me and steady my palms over the windowpane. With a little bit of force, I’m able to push the window up.
“Success!” I yell down.
