The Classy Crooks Club Read Free

haunted—he grew up here, after all. But I can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t quite right in this house.
    I snatch Hector off the bed, bury my nose in his nubby fur, and give him a quick, tight squeeze for reassurance. Nobody sees me, so I figure it doesn’t count.

2
    I ’ve always loved soccer, but I don’t think I’ve ever been so excited to go to practice as I am today. Honestly, I think I’d be excited if I had a dentist appointment. I’d take any excuse to get out of my grandmother’s house.
    After my parents leave for the airport, Grandma Jo spends the rest of the morning drinking tiny cups of tea with her pinkie extended, patting her tight gray bun to make sure no unladylike wips have come free, and telling me about the “household staff” and the “household schedule” and the “household rules.” (Sometimes when you say a word over and over and over, it totally stops making sense, and that’s what happens to me with the word “household.”) I sit there on the “chaise longue,” which looks like a couch with half the back melted off, and pretend to sip from my teacup, trying to figure out how I’m going to survive the next month. And I have a lot of time to think about it—there are so many things that aren’t allowed in Grandma Jo’s house that I feel like it would be faster for her to tell me what I can do.
    There’s no running inside, no walking on the front lawn, and no poking around in the flower beds. I’m not allowed to shout, make long-distance calls, or bother the staff. (In addition to the chef, my grandmother has a gardener, who she calls “the boy,” and a cleaning lady who comes a couple times a week, who she calls “the maid.” Until her foot heals, she also has a driver, who gets to go by “Stanley” for some reason.) I can’t use my cell phone at the table or in the parlor or basically anywhere Grandma Jo can see me. There’s no computer in the house, and the only TV is in her bedroom, so I’m not allowed to watch it or use it to play video games. I’m not allowed to pick up the knickknacks in the living room or open the china cabinet—as if I’d actually want to. The hallway at the back of the house—which leads to my grandmother’s study, the laundry room, and the storage room—is off-limits. I have to turn my lights off at 9:30 on the dot. Luckily, I brought my flashlight from last summer’s camping trip, so at least I can read comic books under the covers.
    The worst part is that I’m not allowed to have friends over. I hope Maddie’s prepared for me to spend the rest of the summer at her house, because I’ll probably die of boredom here.
    When Grandma Jo is done listing all the things that aren’t allowed, she tops it off by saying she’ll be giving me etiquette lessons for two hours every day after soccer practice. I swear I’d rather shovel horse poop for two hours every day. I wonder if my parents knew this was what my grandmother had planned for me when she agreed to let me stay. I consider trying to call them before they get on their plane, but it’s not like they can do anything about it now.
    My summer soccer team practices at my middle school, which is about four blocks from my house. Normally, I’d walk there, swinging by Maddie’s house to pick her up on the way, but Grandma Jo’s house is half an hour from mine. So the second the little silver clock on the mantel chimes twelve fifteen, I cut her off by clearing my throat as politely as I can. “It’s almost time for soccer, Grandma Jo,” I tell her. “I better get my uniform on.” I know how much she hates being interrupted, but she also hates it when people are late, so I’m hoping it’ll cancel out.
    Grandma Jo sighs heavily and shakes her head, and for a second I’m terrified