The Forgetting Machine by Pete Hautman Page B

expression before.
    Â Â â€¢Â Â â€¢Â Â â€¢Â Â 
    Billy used to have a collection of magnetic key cards that gave him access to just about every building in Flinkwater. But back when we got arrested for treason by the Department of Homeland Security, they had confiscated his collection.
    â€œI thought the DHS took your key cards,” I said.
    â€œThey did, so I made something better. Check it out.” He sorted through the junk on his desk and came up with what looked like an old-fashioned oversize wristwatch. “I took the guts out and put in an RFID transmitter, smart-mag technology, and a titanium lock pick. I call it the Open Anything Watch. You ready?”
    â€œI don’t know. . . . ” I’d been to jail once. I didn’t like it.
    â€œYou want to read Charlotte’s Web or not? It’s not like we’d be doing anything wrong.”
    â€œBreaking and entering? Stealing a book? Ms. Pfleuger will kill us if we get caught.”
    â€œWe won’t break anything, and you’d just be borrowing the book. That’s what libraries are for, right?”
    I thought it over for about three seconds. I really did want to read the rest of Charlotte’s Web .

15

Breaking and Entering
    Billy was disappointed by the lock on the front door of the library.
    â€œIt’s just a lock,” he said.
    It was the old-fashioned type that required a metal key. He’d been hoping for something high-tech so he could show off his Open Anything Watch.
    â€œDoes this mean you have to give your watch a new name?” I asked.
    â€œNo, it just means it’s going to be harder than I thought.” He took off the watch and extracted a long, flexible metal strip from the band. “Lock pick. This might take a few minutes.”
    On an impulse, I reached past him and twisted the doorknob. The latch clicked and the door swung open. Billy looked at me, astonished.
    â€œHow did you do that?”
    â€œMagic.”
    â€œYeah, right.”
    â€œOr maybe Ms. Pfleuger forgot to lock it,” I said as we slipped through the door into the empty library. The air was dead still; motes of dust hovered nearly motionless in the air, lit up by the sun coming through the windows. Billy looked around at the shelves of books.
    â€œWow, that’s a lot of paper.”
    â€œYou’ve never been here before?”
    â€œNot since I was a little kid. Where are the computers? How are we going to find the book you want?”
    I pointed out the COMPUTER-FREE ZONE sign on the back wall. “I think the book will be in the children’s section.” I started toward the corner where they kept the kids’ books, but was stopped by the most chilling sound imaginable—that of my name being spoken by a large, largely insane librarian.
    â€œGinger Crump!”
    I froze. Ms. Pfleuger, wearing a dark green muumuu decorated with red and gold snakes, rose up from behind her desk like Godzilla rising from the ocean.
    â€œThe library is closed,” she said, coming toward us. As she got closer, I could see that what I’d thought were red and gold snakes were actually strings of flowers printed on her dress. Which did not make her any less scary—snakes, flowers . . . she still looked like Godzilla.
    â€œThe door was open!” I squeaked. At least it sounded squeaky to me.
    â€œWe didn’t do anything!” Billy was sounding a little squeaky too.
    The Pformidable Pfleuger fixed her flamethrower eyes on us.
    â€œWhy. Are. You. Here?” she inquired terrifyingly.
    â€œI want to check out a book!” I shrieked. Okay, it wasn’t really a shriek, but it was close.
    Ms. Pfleuger halted her advance. The fire in her eyes abated.
    â€œI thought you didn’t like books,” she said.
    â€œI do! I do like books! I love books!”
    Ms. Pfleuger crossed her arms and regarded us suspiciously.
    â€œSeriously,” I said. “I was