Smash & Grab Read Online Free
Author: Amy Christine Parker
self-defense.
3. Don’t get greedy.
4. Don’t get caught.
5. Only trust each other.
Simple enough. But I’m always surprised at how hard it actually is to follow them in the heat of the moment. We’ve managed so far—longer than any crew I know about, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t on borrowed time. We can’t afford to screw up. I can’t even begin to think about what it would do to my mom and Maria if we got caught. What it would do to all the people we love. I couldn’t keep doing this if I thought about that too much, so no slipups.
The traffic light in front of us goes red, and I slow to a stop. We’re at the heart of the financial district, near our next target. The bank’s blinds are drawn this time of night, the windows dark. I stare anyway, waiting to see if the same rightness fizzes across my skin, like it did with the car. Nothing. I can’t tell if this is a bad sign or nerves. I’m banking on nerves. Ha!
Banking.
I laugh even though it isn’t all that funny.
Thonk!
Something’s landed on the car.
I startle so bad that I accidentally step on the gas and the car jerks forward. A pair of boots attached to a long, thin pair of legs appear as a person scrambles across the front hood, tries to keep his balance, fails, then goes down to one knee, his hands darting out to steady him.
“What the—?” I manage to sputter before those boots are launching themselves off the edge of the hood. The dude’s pant leg rides up on one side, and I get an up-close look at the tattoo on his moon-pale calf—a goldfish that looks as if it’s preparing to dive straight into one boot. There’s a little thud as first that boot and then the other connect with the blacktop. The person is smaller than I thought he was. Wait. Not a he.
A girl?
She has a black helmet on—is dressed head to toe in black, the outfit so tight that there’s no question anymore that she’s definitely female. There are cords attached to a pack on her back and a length of fabric trailing after her, blown sideways so that it landed on the road and not the car. It takes me a second to realize that it’s a parachute.
“Ho-ly crap!” Benny laughs out loud, and the girl must hear him, because she half turns. I get a flash of pale white skin; full, slightly parted lips; and wisps of blond hair escaping the front of her helmet, glinting gold under the streetlights. She blinks, black lashes against a flushed cheek, before she’s off and running, the chute swishing over the ground behind her like some kind of wedding dress train. I can’t stop staring. My heart thuds hard in my chest. It’s like watching some black-ops Cinderella make her getaway. She leaps onto the sidewalk across the street without looking back once. I watch the chute trail after, lifting into the wind a bit almost like it’s waving at us, and then the girl and the chute disappear behind a building.
We’re the only car at the intersection, so I put it in park and get out. Benny follows, both of us looking first at the building she went around and then up at the sky. I want to run after her, to catch her and turn her around so I can see her face. I need to know who she is. But I can’t seem to make myself move.
“That was insane, bro!” Benny shakes his head and trots a little ways past the intersection, obviously trying to see where she went, and when he can’t find her, he looks back up at the sky. “You see anyone else up there?” he calls.
I look up at the skyscrapers surrounding us, looming large and seeming to sway. There’s no sign of anyone else, no shadowy silhouettes of other jumpers or whatever. It’s like she just appeared 007-style. I half expect a guy with a scar running down one cheek and an Uzi in his hand to show up next, but instead there is the unmistakable whine of a police siren, faint, but getting louder quickly.
“Time to go,” I say. Benny’s already slipping back into the car. We might not be the only ones breaking the law
3. Don’t get greedy.
4. Don’t get caught.
5. Only trust each other.
Simple enough. But I’m always surprised at how hard it actually is to follow them in the heat of the moment. We’ve managed so far—longer than any crew I know about, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t on borrowed time. We can’t afford to screw up. I can’t even begin to think about what it would do to my mom and Maria if we got caught. What it would do to all the people we love. I couldn’t keep doing this if I thought about that too much, so no slipups.
The traffic light in front of us goes red, and I slow to a stop. We’re at the heart of the financial district, near our next target. The bank’s blinds are drawn this time of night, the windows dark. I stare anyway, waiting to see if the same rightness fizzes across my skin, like it did with the car. Nothing. I can’t tell if this is a bad sign or nerves. I’m banking on nerves. Ha!
Banking.
I laugh even though it isn’t all that funny.
Thonk!
Something’s landed on the car.
I startle so bad that I accidentally step on the gas and the car jerks forward. A pair of boots attached to a long, thin pair of legs appear as a person scrambles across the front hood, tries to keep his balance, fails, then goes down to one knee, his hands darting out to steady him.
“What the—?” I manage to sputter before those boots are launching themselves off the edge of the hood. The dude’s pant leg rides up on one side, and I get an up-close look at the tattoo on his moon-pale calf—a goldfish that looks as if it’s preparing to dive straight into one boot. There’s a little thud as first that boot and then the other connect with the blacktop. The person is smaller than I thought he was. Wait. Not a he.
A girl?
She has a black helmet on—is dressed head to toe in black, the outfit so tight that there’s no question anymore that she’s definitely female. There are cords attached to a pack on her back and a length of fabric trailing after her, blown sideways so that it landed on the road and not the car. It takes me a second to realize that it’s a parachute.
“Ho-ly crap!” Benny laughs out loud, and the girl must hear him, because she half turns. I get a flash of pale white skin; full, slightly parted lips; and wisps of blond hair escaping the front of her helmet, glinting gold under the streetlights. She blinks, black lashes against a flushed cheek, before she’s off and running, the chute swishing over the ground behind her like some kind of wedding dress train. I can’t stop staring. My heart thuds hard in my chest. It’s like watching some black-ops Cinderella make her getaway. She leaps onto the sidewalk across the street without looking back once. I watch the chute trail after, lifting into the wind a bit almost like it’s waving at us, and then the girl and the chute disappear behind a building.
We’re the only car at the intersection, so I put it in park and get out. Benny follows, both of us looking first at the building she went around and then up at the sky. I want to run after her, to catch her and turn her around so I can see her face. I need to know who she is. But I can’t seem to make myself move.
“That was insane, bro!” Benny shakes his head and trots a little ways past the intersection, obviously trying to see where she went, and when he can’t find her, he looks back up at the sky. “You see anyone else up there?” he calls.
I look up at the skyscrapers surrounding us, looming large and seeming to sway. There’s no sign of anyone else, no shadowy silhouettes of other jumpers or whatever. It’s like she just appeared 007-style. I half expect a guy with a scar running down one cheek and an Uzi in his hand to show up next, but instead there is the unmistakable whine of a police siren, faint, but getting louder quickly.
“Time to go,” I say. Benny’s already slipping back into the car. We might not be the only ones breaking the law
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