trashing Lindsay’s Sweet Sixteen makes sense to him,” Frank said.
“I just can’t figure out what the Scaredevils have to do with the party,” I said slowly. “You know, all those pranks that went viral.”
Frank took a long sip of his lemonade. I could tell he was thinking hard from the way his eyes darted back and forth. Suddenly both eyes snapped wide open. He turned to me andsaid, “Joe, do you remember what Colin said in that video?”
“Which one?” I asked.
“The one where we heard his voice in the background,” Frank said. “He said, ‘This ought to keep the cops busy.’ ”
“Yeah . . . so?” I asked.
“Remember when Sanford Peyton came to the police station?” Frank said. “He was complaining that there weren’t enough cops scheduled for Lindsay’s party.”
“Yeah!” I said, the pieces starting to come together. “Colin was keeping the cops busy with the Scaredevils’ pranks so they’d be too busy to cover Lindsay’s Sweet Sixteen.”
“And if Colin is planning on trashing it,” Frank said, “the fewer cops, the more trouble!”
It made total sense to me now. Trashing Lindsay’s Sweet Sixteen was the perfect act of revenge. And if anyone seemed the vengeful type, it was Colin Sylvester.
“Okay,” I said. “Now that we’ve figured out Colin’s plan—what’s ours?”
Frank took another long sip of his lemonade. He then looked me straight in the eye.
“If Colin is planning to trash the party,” he said, “then we’re going to crash the party.”
• • •
“I thought you wanted to work this Sweet Sixteen, Chet,” I said.
“Not wrapped in a sheet, dudes,” Chet groaned. “I feel like a pig in a blanket without the mustard!”
It was early Sunday night. Frank, Chet, and I had parked all the way down the hill from the Bayport Bijou, the hall where Lindsay’s Sweet Sixteen was about to rock. We spent the whole day mapping out our plan and suiting up for the party we were about to crash. And that meant togas.
“We told you a million times, Chet,” Frank said as we trudged up the hill. “These costumes are the best way to sneak into the party. It’s what all the waiters will be wearing.”
“I doubt they got theirs on sale at Sid’s Novelty Shop,” I said. Then, striking my best ancient-Roman-senator pose, I added, “So, do I look like Caesar?”
“With those leaves around your head?” Chet snorted. “More like Caesar salad.”
I gazed upward. Besides the head wreath, the costume came with fake leather sandals, a white tunic, and a gold sash. Sid threw in some freebies—fake gold wrist and ankle cuffs.
“I just wish these things had pockets,” I complained. “Where am I going to keep my tablet?”
Chet tugged at his waist pouch. “I’ll carry it for you in here, Joe,” he said. “I brought it for leftover party food.”
We reached the top of the hill to look out at the Bayport Bijou. Valets were busy parking classy cars as they drove up to the entrance one by one. Blinged-out guests strutted up the lantern-lit path like celebs on the red carpet.
“Serious bling going in there, dudes,” Chet said. “If crazy Colin is planning a heist, he’s coming to the right place.”
I hoped Colin would show up. Frank and I were going ona hunch, and as good as it was, it was still just a hunch.
“It looks like the staff is entering through the side,” Frank said, pointing to some other toga-sporting guys. “Let’s give it a shot.”
We walked toward the building, trying our best to look like we belonged.
“I just had a bad thought,” Frank murmured. “What do we do if Sierra sees us? She knows we’re not working the party.”
I shook my head. “There are over two hundred people in there, Frank,” I said. “It’ll be dark, and we’re in costume. We’ll blend right in. Besides, no one will be paying close attention to the help.”
“Okay,” Frank whispered as we approached the door. “Let’s do this.”
A
“I just can’t figure out what the Scaredevils have to do with the party,” I said slowly. “You know, all those pranks that went viral.”
Frank took a long sip of his lemonade. I could tell he was thinking hard from the way his eyes darted back and forth. Suddenly both eyes snapped wide open. He turned to me andsaid, “Joe, do you remember what Colin said in that video?”
“Which one?” I asked.
“The one where we heard his voice in the background,” Frank said. “He said, ‘This ought to keep the cops busy.’ ”
“Yeah . . . so?” I asked.
“Remember when Sanford Peyton came to the police station?” Frank said. “He was complaining that there weren’t enough cops scheduled for Lindsay’s party.”
“Yeah!” I said, the pieces starting to come together. “Colin was keeping the cops busy with the Scaredevils’ pranks so they’d be too busy to cover Lindsay’s Sweet Sixteen.”
“And if Colin is planning on trashing it,” Frank said, “the fewer cops, the more trouble!”
It made total sense to me now. Trashing Lindsay’s Sweet Sixteen was the perfect act of revenge. And if anyone seemed the vengeful type, it was Colin Sylvester.
“Okay,” I said. “Now that we’ve figured out Colin’s plan—what’s ours?”
Frank took another long sip of his lemonade. He then looked me straight in the eye.
“If Colin is planning to trash the party,” he said, “then we’re going to crash the party.”
• • •
“I thought you wanted to work this Sweet Sixteen, Chet,” I said.
“Not wrapped in a sheet, dudes,” Chet groaned. “I feel like a pig in a blanket without the mustard!”
It was early Sunday night. Frank, Chet, and I had parked all the way down the hill from the Bayport Bijou, the hall where Lindsay’s Sweet Sixteen was about to rock. We spent the whole day mapping out our plan and suiting up for the party we were about to crash. And that meant togas.
“We told you a million times, Chet,” Frank said as we trudged up the hill. “These costumes are the best way to sneak into the party. It’s what all the waiters will be wearing.”
“I doubt they got theirs on sale at Sid’s Novelty Shop,” I said. Then, striking my best ancient-Roman-senator pose, I added, “So, do I look like Caesar?”
“With those leaves around your head?” Chet snorted. “More like Caesar salad.”
I gazed upward. Besides the head wreath, the costume came with fake leather sandals, a white tunic, and a gold sash. Sid threw in some freebies—fake gold wrist and ankle cuffs.
“I just wish these things had pockets,” I complained. “Where am I going to keep my tablet?”
Chet tugged at his waist pouch. “I’ll carry it for you in here, Joe,” he said. “I brought it for leftover party food.”
We reached the top of the hill to look out at the Bayport Bijou. Valets were busy parking classy cars as they drove up to the entrance one by one. Blinged-out guests strutted up the lantern-lit path like celebs on the red carpet.
“Serious bling going in there, dudes,” Chet said. “If crazy Colin is planning a heist, he’s coming to the right place.”
I hoped Colin would show up. Frank and I were going ona hunch, and as good as it was, it was still just a hunch.
“It looks like the staff is entering through the side,” Frank said, pointing to some other toga-sporting guys. “Let’s give it a shot.”
We walked toward the building, trying our best to look like we belonged.
“I just had a bad thought,” Frank murmured. “What do we do if Sierra sees us? She knows we’re not working the party.”
I shook my head. “There are over two hundred people in there, Frank,” I said. “It’ll be dark, and we’re in costume. We’ll blend right in. Besides, no one will be paying close attention to the help.”
“Okay,” Frank whispered as we approached the door. “Let’s do this.”
A
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