The Art of the Swap by Kristine Asselin & Jen Malone

Author:Kristine Asselin & Jen Malone [Asselin, Kristine & Malone, Jen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aladdin
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

Hannah

DUST TICKLES.

I mean, for something so minuscule that it usually floats through the air undetected, when it gets into your nostrils and you can’t sneeze because you’re hiding behind heavy drapes in the drawing room, waiting to foil an art thief, it’s a surprisingly enormous issue.

I scrunch my nose in a hundred different directions to fight off the sneezing fit, which works, but which also makes Jonah nearly laugh out loud as he watches me from behind the window’s other curtain. I widen my eyes at him in warning. Jeez, who would have thought being quiet would be this much of a problem, especially for a self-proclaimed master lurker like me?

Except it turns out there’s a pretty big difference between lurking—which usually involves (mostly harmless) eavesdropping on a conversation or (mostly harmless) spying on some kind of activity—and waiting. Which is how I’ve been wasting my one precious day in the past. And now I’m supposed to be meeting Maggie in less than two hours to switch back, and I have nothing at all to show for my time here.

I wish I could at least chat with Jonah to pass the time. I find his life fascinating, and he’s really sweet and nice. But of course that would require something other than complete silence, so I’ve had to amuse myself with making faces at him to try to get him to smile. He’s extra good at his poker face, but I’ve gotten him to at least crack one a couple of times. The rest of the time, I catch him darting his eyes everywhere, like he’s trying to memorize every detail of the crazy-extravagant drawing room. He’s totally fascinated by the elaborate painted mural of the god of the north wind that covers most of the ceiling.

But other than that it’s been a whole lot of . . .

Just. Waiting.

Boring, mind-numbing, nothing-to-do-or-listen-to waiting.

Well, not nothing to listen to. The house is full of people scrambling about to prepare for tonight’s ball. But none of them are venturing into the drawing room, and none of them are cheerfully calling to each other or kidding around the way our staff at home does when we’re decorating the mansion for the holidays or prepping for a wedding on the grounds. This household is all quiet efficiency. Would it kill them to crack a joke here and there?

I startle when Jonah’s foot stretches across the distance between our hiding spots and nudges mine. I raise What the heck? eyes to his, only to find him looking all freaked out. He jerks his head to the side twice, and I finally catch on.

There’s someone out there!

We’ve had exactly three false alarms in the several hours we’ve been hiding back here. (Yes, hours. If my sneezing doesn’t give us away, my rumbling stomach might.) The first was a maid doing a quick straightening up of furniture and a run over the wooden surfaces with a feather duster. (I felt like whispering, “It’s the curtains you should really think about dusting!”) The second was a different maid, watering Mrs.

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