I nodded, my eyes equally wide. "I'm pretty sure we're in it, now, Brandon."
We huddled together, pressed against the painted siding of Mrs. Katcher's house. There was a small cluster of bushes we hid behind, trying to curl up as small as possible. I grabbed the ends of my shoes and pulled them in closer to my bottom, trying to become tiny, unnoticeable. Maybe Mrs. Katcher wouldn't...
But she did. The front door of the house swung open, crashing into the porch like thunder cracking. The wooden boards of the front porch creaked under the weight of her fuzzy slippers. I could picture her face, red with anger, nose flaring like she was a charging bull. I curled up a little smaller behind the thick row of bushes.
"Where are you, you little brats?" The old lady screamed, banging her cane against the railings of the porch. "I'll spank you 'til you can't walk, you rascals."
Brandon's eyes looked as though they were about to pop from his head. I looked over at him, shivering like a trapped animal in the bushes. He was squished up just as much as me, and my limbs started to ache. "If she sees us, we'll be grounded forever, McKallie." Brandon whispered. "For. ever."
Like I didn't already know that.
"I have an idea." I whispered back.
Brandon just groaned in response. He never thought my ideas were any good. Buzz-kill.
"Don't move 'til I tell you to run, Brandon. Not a muscle."
He nodded, hoping against hope we could get away. Old Lady Katcher wasn't quick, but her eyesight had only improved over the millions of years she'd roamed the Earth. Without the help of contacts or glasses, she could catch anyone on the street up to mischief, and had the phone numbers of all of the parents in the neighborhood. And she never hesitated to call us out on every little prank, every little adventure, and every little bit of fun.
'Old goat,' I thought.