The Great Snapping Turtle Adventure by Susan Yaruta-Young Page B

silly,” said Max. “Let’s go free a snapping turtle and be done with it. Enough hemming and hawing.”
    â€œOk!” said Charles, but his voice was twitchy and squirming.
    â€œThe way I see it,” said Max slowly in a matter-of-fact type voice, “the most crucial part of this adventure is getting out of this room without waking Fred. These floorboards squeak a lot. I’ve been testing them ever since we came up here tonight. The worst squeaks are in the center of the room. So, we should avoid that area at all costs. We should walk around, as close to the walls as we can on our journey out.” He pointed to the front door to their room, a good ten to twelve feet from where they were sitting on the trunk.
    â€œOr we could go out the back door, through the little efficiency kitchen and down the back stairs,” said Charles, pointing to the exit about four feet away.
    â€œOh, sure! Those back steps go right down into the summer kitchen, Charles,” said Max.
    â€œThey do?” asked Charles. The squirm in his voice gave a trembling wiggle to his words.
    â€œUh-huh,” nodded Max smugly.
    â€œScratch that,” said Charles.
    â€œYou sure?” teased Max, a bit of a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.
    â€œPositive,” said Charles.
    â€œOk, then we go out the front door. We make sure not to lock ourselves out. We go down the main steps, out the big front door—that we’ll prop open with a brick doorstop I saw.”
    â€œMiss Marie might not like having her front door left wide open in the middle of the night,” interrupted Charles.
    â€œNot wide open, Charles, you nit, just open the thickness of that brick.”
    â€œOk, ok. Let’s stop talking about it and just do it, ok? All this talking is making me uptight.”
    â€œOk, we’re off then,” said Max.
    Slowly, softly, the boys crept along the edge of the room. Occasionally a board would begin to squeak, and they would both stop and hold their breath, listening for Fred’s snores. But, for the most part, the floor cooperated and didn’t make much noise.
    The lock on the door was another matter. It was an old lock, actually two locks in one, which required the sensitivity of a safecracker to get them open. But finally, Max was able to twist the great brass knob just the right way, with his knee pressed to the middle board in the door. There was a click and the lock gave up.
    A creak of the brass hinges. A whine as the door opened. And the boys were out.
    â€œWe’ll leave it open. I have a sock we can wedge in, so it won’t lock us out,” whispered Max as he took off his tennis shoe. He slipped out of his sock and quickly returned his foot back to its place inside the shoe.
    â€œStinky lock,” giggled Charles nervously, as Max placed his sock in the lock and gently pulled the door closed.
    â€œBetter than being locked out,” said Max. “Ok, next, down the stairs we go.”
    The stairs were wide and carpeted. The boys made very little noise on them, only a slight brushing sound as their shoes slid against the worn tapestry carpet.
    All too quickly, they were face-to-face with the great, tall, old-fashioned front door. It had never looked so big before.
    â€œOk,” said Max after a moment of staring at the hinged barrier separating them from the outside. “Here goes nothing.” He placed his hand on the enormous brass knob.
    â€œThink it has a fancy alarm attached to it?” hissed Charles by his ear.
    â€œI don’t see anything. No little square box with numbers and signal lights,” said Max, looking carefully around the door.
    â€œOk, try it,” said Charles.
    â€œHere goes,” said Max. He held his breath and shut his eyes into a squinty line. Slowly he turned the knob.
    It rattled its screws loose in their places.
    It slowly turned.
    With a slight push, Max opened the door.
    Both boys slipped out