Read Online Criminal Destiny by Gordon Korman - Free Book Online

divider. “Help me with the window.”
    Malik flips the latch and lifts. The sash doesn’t budge.
    I move in to give him a hand. We heave with all our might. Nothing.
    Amber examines the frame. “It’s painted shut.”
    â€œWe’ll smash the window,” Malik offers.
    â€œNo!” Amber hisses. “That cop will hear it.”
    Tori pulls a barrette out of her hair and begins to break through the thick layer of dried paint with the metal clip. It works, but it’s slow going.
    There’s a rap at the bathroom door. “What’s taking so long in there?”
    â€œYou want details?” Amber shoots back.
    The knocking stops.
    Sweat forms on Tori’s brow as she uses the barrette to saw all the way around the frame. At last, she steps back and Malik and I try again. The window resists for a moment and then rises in a shower of paint chips.
    Tori tosses the nozzle out the window and we watch the hose unroll down the side of the building. But instead of dropping all the way to the alley, the length plays out and the nozzle hangs there, ten feet off the ground.
    â€œWe’re short,” I report.
    The others peer outside at our dangling mode of escape.
    Malik is furious. “Didn’t you bother to make sure the rope was long enough?” He looks like he’s shouting, but it comes out an agitated snarl.
    â€œWe’ll have to climb down as far as we can and jump the rest of the way,” Tori decides.
    â€œI don’t know,” I say nervously. “With a drop like that, at least one of us is bound to sprain an ankle or worse. Ifthat cop chases us, we’ll be dead meat.”
    â€œIf we don’t get out of here now, we’re dead meat anyway,” Amber argues.
    Tori leans over the sash. “See that Dumpster off to the left? When you get to the bottom of the hose, try to swing toward it. At least it’s a soft landing.”
    â€œBut it’s garbage ,” Malik complains.
    We all know that his real concern is rappelling down a three-story building, swinging like Tarzan, and then jumping into what we hope is something soft. Yeah, we’re all a little worried about that.
    The cop is knocking again. “Hurry up, Amber. The doctor’s waiting.”
    My mind forms the connections—the officer, the Purples, my dad. The thought of Felix Frieden is all the motivation I need. “I’ll go first.” I scramble out the window, clinging to the fabric of the hose.
    â€œLet me just wash up,” Amber calls in the direction of the door. I hear one of the toilets flushing.
    I don’t know what’s worse—the climb itself or the fear that the slightest slip will leave me dashed to pieces on the pavement of a Denver alley. The simple act of letting go to lower myself is a stomach-churning terror. To make matters worse, every time I bounce back to the wall, the roughbrick rips my knuckles to shreds. When I finally reach the dangling nozzle, it’s a shock how far up I still am, and an even bigger shock how far away the Dumpster is.
    I turn beseeching eyes up to the third floor.
    Tori mouths a single word: “Swing!”
    I wriggle my body in an attempt to get the hose in motion.
    â€œSometime today would be nice,” comes from above. Malik.
    It’s no use. I’m swaying a little but the Dumpster still looks out of range. I’m going to have to leap for it. And if I miss—well, we won’t go into that.
    I can’t do it. Dangling from a fire hose may not be the most comfortable position, but at least I’m attached to something solid. How am I going to work up the courage to let go?
    I manufacture an image of Dad, a smug, superior expression on his face, and I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.
    Jump!
    I extend my legs like a trapeze artist and fling myself at the Dumpster. For an instant I’m in midair, uncoupled from earth, falling. Then I’m rolling in the garbage.