Stolen Luck Read Online Free Page A
Author: Megan Atwood
played down the stairway, even though it was the middle of the day. She knew there were no windows down in the basement. She wondered how the maintenance man handled it. She could see why he was slightly weird.
She crept down ancient wooden stairs and, after an eternity, got to the end. Light flooded out into the hallway from a room off to her right, the source of the TV laughter. She sidled up to the door, tiptoeing. She crouched down, thinking Bert wouldnât notice a face at the bottom of the door, and moved her head around the corner.
The office was empty.
Papers stood everywhere in uneven stacks, and a prehistoric computer sat blank-screened and unused on the desk. The TV sat on top of a double VCR/DVD player, with some tape going in the VCR. It looked and sounded like old episodes of some old TV show. Who knew? The maintenance man was a sitcom lover. Vintage.
Kayley slipped into the maintenance room as quietly as she could. The first thing she did was step on a pencil. The sound ricocheted off the room.
Kayley ducked, putting her hands up to her mouth. She looked out to the hallway, but no one seemed to be coming.
Looking carefully at the floor in front of her, she tiptoed over to the desk and began opening its metallic drawers. Each one squeaked open. The bottom drawer held a series of files. Kayley noticed an entire folder dedicated to Giselle , but she didnât have time to look at it. She was searching for a key. Surely Bert had duplicates?
She stepped back and scanned the room. Nothing.
She needed those shoes! She kicked her heel back against the wall, not caring whether or not someone heard her. Something banged against her calf, and she turned around.
A tiny door in the wall hung open, about an inch up from the wood trim at bottom. She never would have seen the doorâs outline unless sheâd been looking for it. Crouching down, Kayley looked inside. An old-fashioned key hung on a hook.
A key that looked like a perfect fit for the display case upstairs.
Kayley reached out slowly and picked the key up, holding it in her hands. Here was the key to her future. The key to dancing the part she was supposed to dance. To being the dancer she wanted to be. She closed the little door and stood up. And then she heard it again. The laughter. This time she was sure.
Shoving the key in her pocket, she sprinted upstairs to her room, making enough noise to wake the dead.
Chapter 7
At midnight, Kayley sat on her bed, chewing on her fingernails, her knees shaking. Sheâd been going over the same thoughts constantly since she took the key.
Should she, or shouldnât she?
Kayley hadnât even gone to dinner. She had just lain on her bed, one arm thrown across her eyes and the other tapping its fingers on the bedspread.
Taking the shoes would be wrong. No doubt about it. She would get into major trouble if someone found out. She might even get kicked out of the academy and then she wouldnât be able to get into another one and then sheâd never get a position in a company ⦠Her parents would be so ashamed. Not to mention, her own moral compass pointed to no. Stealing was just wrong.
But then â¦
Kayley needed that part back. She was born to play the fairy godmother. She needed to feel that fire in her belly again, the whole-body feeling that came over her when she would get a complicated move right or when she could feel the music run through her. She needed it.
And it sure as heck wasnât anywhere to be found at the moment.
Kayley stopped shaking her knees and stood up straight. Sheâd wasted yet another hour worrying. It was time for action. Even if the shoes didnât work as a good luck charm, well ⦠sheâd know sheâd tried everything.
Opening her door quietly, she looked both ways down the hallway. Dark shadows played all around the hall, the electric lights on the wall flickering like candles. The bloodred carpet looked almost black in the
She crept down ancient wooden stairs and, after an eternity, got to the end. Light flooded out into the hallway from a room off to her right, the source of the TV laughter. She sidled up to the door, tiptoeing. She crouched down, thinking Bert wouldnât notice a face at the bottom of the door, and moved her head around the corner.
The office was empty.
Papers stood everywhere in uneven stacks, and a prehistoric computer sat blank-screened and unused on the desk. The TV sat on top of a double VCR/DVD player, with some tape going in the VCR. It looked and sounded like old episodes of some old TV show. Who knew? The maintenance man was a sitcom lover. Vintage.
Kayley slipped into the maintenance room as quietly as she could. The first thing she did was step on a pencil. The sound ricocheted off the room.
Kayley ducked, putting her hands up to her mouth. She looked out to the hallway, but no one seemed to be coming.
Looking carefully at the floor in front of her, she tiptoed over to the desk and began opening its metallic drawers. Each one squeaked open. The bottom drawer held a series of files. Kayley noticed an entire folder dedicated to Giselle , but she didnât have time to look at it. She was searching for a key. Surely Bert had duplicates?
She stepped back and scanned the room. Nothing.
She needed those shoes! She kicked her heel back against the wall, not caring whether or not someone heard her. Something banged against her calf, and she turned around.
A tiny door in the wall hung open, about an inch up from the wood trim at bottom. She never would have seen the doorâs outline unless sheâd been looking for it. Crouching down, Kayley looked inside. An old-fashioned key hung on a hook.
A key that looked like a perfect fit for the display case upstairs.
Kayley reached out slowly and picked the key up, holding it in her hands. Here was the key to her future. The key to dancing the part she was supposed to dance. To being the dancer she wanted to be. She closed the little door and stood up. And then she heard it again. The laughter. This time she was sure.
Shoving the key in her pocket, she sprinted upstairs to her room, making enough noise to wake the dead.
Chapter 7
At midnight, Kayley sat on her bed, chewing on her fingernails, her knees shaking. Sheâd been going over the same thoughts constantly since she took the key.
Should she, or shouldnât she?
Kayley hadnât even gone to dinner. She had just lain on her bed, one arm thrown across her eyes and the other tapping its fingers on the bedspread.
Taking the shoes would be wrong. No doubt about it. She would get into major trouble if someone found out. She might even get kicked out of the academy and then she wouldnât be able to get into another one and then sheâd never get a position in a company ⦠Her parents would be so ashamed. Not to mention, her own moral compass pointed to no. Stealing was just wrong.
But then â¦
Kayley needed that part back. She was born to play the fairy godmother. She needed to feel that fire in her belly again, the whole-body feeling that came over her when she would get a complicated move right or when she could feel the music run through her. She needed it.
And it sure as heck wasnât anywhere to be found at the moment.
Kayley stopped shaking her knees and stood up straight. Sheâd wasted yet another hour worrying. It was time for action. Even if the shoes didnât work as a good luck charm, well ⦠sheâd know sheâd tried everything.
Opening her door quietly, she looked both ways down the hallway. Dark shadows played all around the hall, the electric lights on the wall flickering like candles. The bloodred carpet looked almost black in the
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