Free The Classy Crooks Club by Alison Cherry Page B

secret meeting! Something to check off the ol’ bucket list.”
    â€œDefinitely,” I say, though I have no idea what she’s talking about. What the heck is a bucket list?
    Betty beams in my direction. “I’m so thrilled you’re going to join us, dear. I knew Jo would come around about you.”
    â€œI don’t . . . what?” I ask. “Join you?”
    Grandma Jo comes in with a tray of tea things before they can say anything else. Even though it’s the middle of the night, she’s brought all the proper serving things: saucers, little silver sugar tongs, a separate plate of lemon slices. “Be quiet,” she snaps at Betty. “She doesn’t know anything yet.” Everyone’s silent as she pours tea into five matching china cups, and then she settles down in her chair and looks at me expectantly. “Go on, Annemarie, show them what you did.”
    I feel like 90 percent of this conversation is happening over my head. “What I did with what?”
    She rolls her eyes. “What you did with the door .”
    â€œYou want me to open the lock again?”
    â€œHave you done something else to the door of which I’m not aware?”
    â€œNo, I . . . no.”
    â€œOut you go, then.” She shoos me out of the room, shuts the door between us, and clicks the lock into place. At least I’m separated from the birds now. And the tea.
    I can hear Cookie’s excited murmurs on the other side as I do my trick with the library card. When the bolt pops open a few seconds later and I step back into the room, she and Betty break into riotous applause. Edna holds her hands above her head and wiggles her fingers, which seems to be her weird way of clapping.
    â€œAJ, darling, that was amazing!” raves Cookie. “Such finesse! Where did you learn to do that?”
    â€œThe Internet?” I say.
    â€œAmazing device.” Cookie shakes her head. “My granddaughter told me you can learn to build explosives on the Internet! Can you believe it? I must try it sometime.”
    Grandma Jo is not to be distracted. “I’ve changed my mind,” she says to the other ladies. “I think we should use Annemarie. Let’s put it to a vote. All in favor?”
    Three gnarled hands shoot into the air. “Aye,” all the ladies chorus.
    â€œThen it’s decided.”
    Cookie springs out of her chair and hugs me, her kimono sleeve flying up to hit me in the face. “I’m so glad to have you in our society,” she says, planting an enthusiastic kiss on my cheek. “It’s going to be wonderful!”
    I twist away. “Could someone please tell me what’s going on here?” I say. “It’s the middle of the night, and you guys are making me demonstrate my lock picking and talking about secret societies, and we’re in a storage room full of stolen birds, and everyone’s acting like this is completely normal, and none of this is even remotely normal!”
    â€œJo, I thought you didn’t tell her about the birds,” Betty says.
    â€œI didn’t.” My grandmother turns on me, her eyes full of steel. “Why do you think these birds are stolen?”
    â€œThe Internet,” I say again.
    Cookie shakes her head. “Remarkable.”
    I wait for someone to tell me there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for all these animals, one that doesn’t involve my grandmother’s being a criminal, but nobody does. “So these birds are stolen,” I say, letting that sink in. I can’t wait to see the look on Maddie’s face when I tell her I was right. Bird babysitting service, my butt.
    For the first time I can remember, Grandma Jo actually looks uncomfortable. “It depends on what you mean by ‘stolen,’ ” she says.
    â€œI mean they don’t belong to you.”
    â€œWild creatures don’t belong to