Randy tried hard to keep a neutral face. BREAK the locks? What did she think they were-a couple of lock-breaking specialists? Matt came up to the door, thinking he must have misheard.
‘Are you sure you don’t want to search for the keys?’ Randy asked, not knowing how he should answer, ‘I mean, it must lying somewhere.’
‘I looked everywhere’, she said mournfully, ‘If they were a couple of normal locks, I could’ve easily broken them, but my dad got me some extra-strong ones to make sure that no one opens the bag without the keys!’
‘You’ve . . . broken locks before?’ Matt asked. He didn’t look amused he sounded disapproving. Randy felt like strangling him on the spot—they were finally getting a chance to know her, and he was behaving like her father.
‘Well . . . yeah’ she said, her face turning completely pink, ‘Last Christmas, my aunt said that she had some presents for my younger cousins in her bags, but it would have to wait. They didn’t wanna wait, so they begged me to break it . . . ’
‘How did you BREAK a Goddamned lock?’ Matt asked, stunned.
‘And you say that you’re seventeen years old?’ Randy asked, equally shell-shocked. She shrunk back visibly under their gazes.
‘How exactly do you want us to open it?’
‘Oh, come on!’ she scowled, ‘And you call yourselves good in sports!’
‘Well, I said ‘good in sports’, not weight lifters, or thieves’ Matt defended.
‘Well, you can call me a thief, though I don’t deal in locks. I specialise in stealing hearts’, Randy cut in, trying to act smart.
She neither laughed, nor smiled. She didn’t even bat her eyelids in surprise. She folded her arms and gave Randy the I-don’t-like-your-attitude look. ‘You don’t say that to me ever again’, she said, ‘Now will you just follow mw and break the lock?’ She turned and stomped off into Jeannie's room.
‘Tough luck’ Matt patted Randy shoulder and followed her.