The robber had returned, or maybe he’d never left. Maybe he’d been hiding in the closet and as soon as he figured out we were kids, he decided to deal with us. Ethan was probably thinking the same thing because he grabbed a book and held it like he was going to throw it. Then he must have decided that a book made a terrible weapon, because he pulled his Swiss army knife from his pocket. As the footsteps closed in, we huddled side by side like two raccoons caught in headlights. Someone appeared in the doorway. I lunged. “Hey! What’s your problem?” Tyler cried, ducking as I swung. “You almost poked out my eye. Are you trying to turn me into a Cyclops?” My arms fell to my sides. “Don’t do that,” I said between clenched teeth. “Do what?” “Sneak up on us. I almost peed my pants.” I set the poker on the desk. Ethan stood frozen, the knife still clenched in his hands. “Are you going to stab me with that toothpick?” Tyler asked him, arching one of his eyebrows. I’d tried to teach myself how to raise one eyebrow, practicing in the mirror until my forehead had started to throb.
