"That's it? You're not even going to think about it?"
"You could have asked me that on the phone. I cut out early on a second helping of macaroni and cheese!"
"This is of major importance!" "Are you mad? Do you want me to believe in vampires?"
"Well..."
"Raven, do you believe in them?"
"I've wanted to for years. But who knows? I didn't believe Rock Hudson was gay."
"Who's Rock Hudson?"
I rolled my eyes. "Never mind. I asked you to meet me here to help me out on my mission. See, the answers lie not in rumors, but in truths, and the truth lies in that Mansion. And every Saturday night Creepy Butler Man goes to Wexley's for an hour of grocery shopping. I drove by the Mansion, and they don't seem to have a security system. And if I play my cards right, Gothic Guy will be keeping to himself in his attic room of blaring Marilyn Manson angst. He'll never hear me."
"He'll never hear you doing what?"
"Finding the truth."
"This sounds so way out."
"Thank you."
"So you need me to be at my house waiting by the phone, so when you get safely home, you can call me and share all the details?"
I stared at her hard.
"No, I need you to be my lookout."
"You know this is trespassing? Like really trespassing? Like breaking and entering?"
"Well, if I can find an open window, then I won't be breaking. I'll only be entering. And if it all goes as planned, no one will be the wiser and so then I won't even be entering. I won't even get in trouble for exiting!"
"I shouldn't..."
"You should."
"I can't."
"You can."
"I won't."
"You will!"
The conversation stopped. "You will!" I said, this time sternly. I hated to be bossy, but it had to be done. I got up from my swing. "I won't steal anything. You'll be an accomplice to nothing. But if I do find out something major, colossal, spectacular, totally out of this world, then we can both share the Nobel Prize."
"We have till Saturday, right?"
"Yes. Which gives me plenty of time to gather more info and comb the Mansion grounds. And you have plenty of time to--"
"Think of excuses?"
I smiled. "No, to finish your macaroni and cheese."
Chapter 12 Quiting Time
It was better than graduation day: the day my part-time job was over. I had safely cleared $200 after taxes. Enough for dear old dad to buy a sparkling new tennis racket and a new can of bright neon- yellow tennis balls.