Read Project Sweet Life for Free Online Page B

I looked at each other. We both knew thatif we didn’t let Curtis get his way, we’d never hear the end of it.
    “Okay,” I said.
    Curtis turned back to the window again, as if the sheer power of his scowl could force the occupants of the bank to do something incriminating.
    As the minutes wore on, Curtis kept glaring at the bank, though Victor and I spent more time watching the clock on the wall of the coffee shop. The seats in our booth were padded, but they’d long since stopped feeling soft (though they were still just as sticky).
    By five minutes to five, the diner was deserted except for Curtis, Victor, me, and a little old lady primly eating a BLT with a knife and fork.
    I arched my back and stretched my arms.
    “No,” Curtis said firmly, without even looking at me. “Not yet.”
    “Curtis,” Victor said. “Give it up.”
    “But what about the hundred-thousand-dollar reward ? We have to catch those robbers !”
    At the sound of Curtis’s outburst, the old lady looked over at us. I grinned apologetically at her, and she returned to her BLT.
    “Curtis?” I said patiently. “It’s over.”
    “Wait,” he said. “Wait! Something’s happening!”
    But Curtis had already cried wolf so many times that day that I didn’t even turn.
    “Please!” he implored. “Just look !”
    So I looked. And Curtis was right: Something was happening inside the bank.
     
     
    There was a woman who seemed to be asking about her safe-deposit box. All afternoon, people had been visiting their safe-deposit boxes, going in and out of the bank vault. But something about this woman was different. She didn’t just look rich; she looked like she wanted people to know she was rich. She wore an all-white pantsuit and was as skinny as a department-store mannequin, and she posed like one too. With the exception of her actual face, anywhere she had bare skin—ears, neck, wrists, ankles—she wore shimmering gold jewelry.
    When watching people through a window, you obviously don’t know what they’re saying to each other. But after a while, you start to think you do.
    But it’s not five o’clock yet! Golden Girl seemed to be saying to the bank teller.
    Five o’clock is the time the bank closes, the bank teller seemed to reply. That means all transactions need to be finished by then.
    I will be finished! Golden Girl said. This will only take a second!
    I’m sorry, ma’am! the bank teller responded. We stop access to the safe-deposit boxes at four forty-five.
    “Fascinating,” Victor said sarcastically. “Curtis, what exactly does it say that this is the highlight of our afternoon?”
    “Wait!” he said. “ Look! ”
    He pointed over to the other end of the bank, to where Happy Pants had her desk.
    She’d stopped what she was doing and was intently watching the interaction between Golden Girl and the bank teller.
    “Curtis,” I said, “if I worked there, I’d be watching that, too.”
    Suddenly Happy Pants twitched.
    I didn’t say anything, because I didn’t want to encourage Curtis. But it looked like a nervous twitch.
    Naturally Curtis saw it too. “There!” he said. “Did you see that? She’s nervous about something!”
    Happy Pants looked away from the interaction with Golden Girl, through the window of the bank to the street outside. What was she looking at? It wasn’t us, like in that movie Rear Window , where the killer looks over and sees Jimmy Stewart spying on him through the window.
    I looked back into the bank, at the vault where Golden Girl was still arguing with the teller. Knowing what I knew about rich people, I had a good idea what would happen. And sure enough, the clerk finally did relent, nodding and grudgingly letting Golden Girl in through the little swinging door that led back to the vault.
    Happy Pants stood up from her desk and crossed toward the front doors.
    “ Now what is Happy Pants doing?” Curtis said.
    I had to admit, this was interesting. Or did Curtis just have me jumping to