Mummy by Caroline B. Cooney

mummy home? On a bus? In a taxi? Her brothers would be awake, assuming the other passengers on the bus decided it was not their business if she was carrying a mummy. Her parents would ask about her day. “What is that?” they would say, although they would certainly be able to guess.
    Okay, so that wouldn’t work. Gould she leave the mummy in the office? Put the mummy into some closet? Come back for it?
    As soon as they found the mummy gone, a search would be launched. They might not think of searching office closets, but security would be tightened and locks changed. Emlyn would not get in a second time. Her key would no longer allow her to remove the mummy she had stashed. Nor could she again pretend to be Girl Reporter.
    No, on the night she came for the mummy, she had to leave with the mummy.
    Tonight would not work. There were too many details for which she had not planned. And no doubt more problems that she would think of when she pondered this. She must have these solved in her mind so she wouldn’t face them under pressure.
    She could, however, explore the cellar. Find out what was down there and where the exits led and whether—
    “What are you doing here?”
    Emlyn turned slowly.
    It was a guard.
    Not one she recognized. Not the one with whom she had chatted at the exit yesterday.
    “I’m so glad to see you,” said Emlyn. “I’m actually shaking.” She held out her hand for him to see. “I was using the bathroom in the offices, and I’ve taken the wrong door out. It’s really scary here at night. I’m here with my grandmother, and she’s always the one who gets lost, but now I’m the one who’s lost. She’s probably worried. You’ll get me back to the Friends, won’t you?”
    She smiled anxiously, and it seemed that Jack and Maris were correct.
    She could get away with things.

Seven
    O F COURSE, EVERYBODY BUT Emlyn was late for the meeting. Neither play rehearsal nor soccer practice was ever over when it was over. Things had to be put away; people had to shower and blow-dry their hair; arguments had to be settled and snacks exchanged.
    Finally, closer to six than five, they were gathered by the two maples. One was scarlet, the other gold, making Emlyn remember the Brownie song she used to sing: “Make new friends, but keep the old; one is silver and the other gold.”
    These were not friends, and not one of them was silver or gold. What they were about to do was tarnished, and Emlyn knew it.
    Lovell and Jack were still damp from their showers and very tired. Maris, because the drama department lacked showers, was sweaty and irritable. Donovan was just Donovan.
    Lovell flung herself down on the grass, and one by one the rest joined her. Since they no longer had to see the stage or the ball, the girls did not bother to tie back their hair but let it fall, and their bodies drooped as loosely as their hair. The boys let go of their strength and fell back against the cooling grass.
    How pretty we look, thought Emlyn. An art class should come and draw us in pastels or fling us onto watercolor paper.
    “Okay,” said Jack. “First. How do we get the mummy out? We can’t just walk in there and some of us distract the guards while others of us pick the mummy up and run out the front door.”
    “Maybe we could,” said Maris thoughtfully. “Lovell and Emlyn and I would each subdue a guard, while Jack and Donovan hoist the mummy onto their shoulders and run toward the exit like football players with a long, thin, flat football.”
    Lovell laughed.
    Donovan said, “I still say a cow would be better.”
    “Donovan, stop your noise,” said Maris. How attractive Maris was, in a bony way; her features would be visible from the back row of any theater, and in fact everything about her was theatrical—the way she flung words around, and gestures around, and even affection. She was drama. “We’ve settled on the mummy, Donovan. Emlyn’s in with us. Emlyn and Jack and I crept around the museum the