Read Online Pickle by Kim Baker - Free Book Online

held back a groan. What if she asked to see the costumes? He could have just said decorations and she probably wouldn’t have asked any more questions. I wondered if she could see my heart beating.
    â€œBen is the kraken,” Bean said. “I’m Aphrodite. And Oliver is, um, a hippocampus.”
    â€œHippo what?” Oliver said, and Bean elbowed him.
    â€œI don’t think I know that one,” Pat said. “Anyway, it’s nice to see students eager to entertain their classmates.”
    â€œThat we are,” Oliver said. “We even made a little dance number.” Pat’s eyebrows went up. Too much , I thought. He better have some Hello, Dolly! dance ready because I am a boy without rhythm.
    â€œI’ll let you get to it. Have fun, kiddos!” She continued down the hall to the office. I leaned my head on the door and took a deep breath. I balanced the boxes on my knee and pulled on the door handle. It opened without any resistance. The classroom was dark and empty. Bean opened and closed the door a couple more times and bent over to inspect the doorknob.
    â€œClever Agent Fix-it,” she said. Frank had taped the latch down with clear packing tape. The door closed and looked normal, but even with the lock button pushed in the latch was stuck in the door and all you had to do was pull. He was good.
    We peeled the tape off and ducked into the classroom, locking the door behind us. I closed the blinds over the windows, so nobody outside could see what we were doing. Bean cleared off some books in the middle of Ms. Ruiz’s desk and propped the memo up where she would see it first thing. I hoped they’d never dust it for fingerprints.
    â€œCheck it out,” Bean said, and took the party loot out of the bags.
    â€œHuh,” Oliver said.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” Bean asked.
    â€œI didn’t know they made brown streamers,” Oliver said.
    â€œThey make all colors. The brown was on sale.”
    â€œNo kidding,” he said. Bean stopped taking things out of the bags and crossed her arms.
    â€œDid you actually pay for these?” he asked.
    â€œNo, I don’t buy things from our own store. But I don’t want to steal the best stuff. They can sell it. And they’d notice,” Bean said.
    â€œWhat else do you have?”
    â€œThere are some green streamers, too. And plates and napkins and stuff,” she said.
    â€œFine, where are the balloons?”
    â€œIn the bag.”
    â€œWe have to blow them up? Why didn’t you do it with the machine?”
    â€œOh, I don’t know. I thought a bunch of balloons might be a little conspicuous. Besides, the store doesn’t open until nine, and the tank is noisy.”
    â€œAll right, I’m sorry,” Oliver said. “Wait—the plates say Year of the Pig! We can’t use these. She’ll think we’re calling her a pig!” I grabbed a pack of balloons and started blowing.
    â€œThey’re from Chinese New Year, goober. I had to get stuff from the clearance bins. I can’t just grab anything .” Oliver complained again until Bean pushed him away. “Don’t use the plates then. Cupcakes don’t need plates anyway.”
    Oliver shook his head and grabbed streamers and tape. He wound two streamers together and climbed over desks to hang them every which way. Bean wrote “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SIENNA!” in big puffy letters on the whiteboard. I threw some Class of 2011 confetti over the desks and set the cupcakes out on a half-squished cardboard tray shaped like a pink Easter bunny. Then I blew up balloons until I made myself dizzy. Bean and Oliver took over. We finished with time to spare.
    â€œIt might look better if we aren’t the first ones here,” Oliver said. We locked the door behind us and took the empty boxes and pig plates out to the recycling bin. Bean walked one way, and we walked another. We looped around back to our