Page 78 of The Roommate Lie

Our visiting author doing her best impression of a rake during a lilac day picnic. And a neighborhood jaunt.

Meanwhile, our favorite troublemaker was on his best behavior all day. As if he was never a rake at all.

My how the tables have turned.

This is not how I wanted to spend my Saturday morning with Alice. Crouched behind my front gate as we get ready to cause the worst kind of trouble—Old Bird trouble.

I know better than this. Every single person in Ponderosa Falls does, even the teenagers. In the entire history of this town, I’m the only Pondie who’s ever been dumb enough to mess with that deadly feathered trio, and I learned my lesson. I’m a changed man.

Until today.

I don’t know what’s gotten into Alice, but she woke up ready to go after Edna and her friends, and there was no talking her out of it. I couldn’t let her come out here and cause troublealone. If we’re going down—pecked to death by blue hairs—we’re going down together.

The scent of lilacs surrounds us in our hiding place, and I can hear our targets long before they reach us. The hedgerow is quiet except for the swish of their tracksuits, the gentle thump of their orthopedic shoes. Those sounds are so familiar, so pleasant, but it’s the calm before the angry-bird storm.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” I whisper to Alice. “There has to be an easier way to figure out who the Victorian is.”

“Sure”—she shrugs—“unless theyarethe Victorian.”

Excuse me?

That is some serious out-of-towner nonsense. The Old Birds don’t have time to write a scandal sheet; they’re too busy running this town to gossip about it. Even Henrietta “Bingo Brawl” St. James—who barely sleeps—has too many jobs, hobbies, and grandchildren to have that kind of spare time.

But before I can talk her down, the Old Birds pass my house, and my favorite redhead springs into action. Popping out of hiding, she flings open my gate to follow them. Like she’s the new bird in town, and she’s ready to join their speed-walking club.

“Good morning!”

Super Happy Alice strikes again.

I sprint after her in a daze. How can Alice think the Old Birds,myOld Birds, write the neighborhood scandal sheet? How can she think they’d gossip about me like that, and how can I stop her before it’s too late? Before she executes her master plan only to find out it is she who has been executed?

My honorary evil grandmothers would do a lot of things, but tear me apart in writing isn’t one of them. I’m not even sure how they’ll feel about Alice suspecting a thing like that. If I don’t want her to get turned into birdseed, I need to get us out of this, and I need to do it fast.

“Well, well, well,” Edna deadpans as we catch up. “It looks like we’ve picked up some strays. To what do we owe this incredible honor?”

We’re already in danger. I can tell by her voice they’re onto us. Alice and I sprang out of literal shrubbery to follow them. How could they not be onto us?

But Alice doesn’t notice. Edna has asked a question, and she probably has a lie ready and waiting. A very bad, very Alice lie. Which means I have no choice—I have to save her…by betraying her.

“Alice thinks you three are the Victorian.”

I can hardly believe I said that out loud, and neither can Alice. She gasps, and it’s a truly heartbreaking sound. Though not as heartbreaking as the look she gives me, as if I’ve stabbed her in the heart.

Forgive me, Carrots, for I have sinned.

Ahead of us on the sidewalk, the Old Birds chuckle darkly in perfect unison. I can’t see their faces. They’re still power walking their hearts out, and I can’t tell if they’re upset or offended. So I keep yammering to smooth things over.

“But I told her, if you had anything bad to say about someone in town, you’d say it to their face. And you’d enjoy it.”

They chuckle again, more heartily this time.Crisis averted.At least, I think so…

I wait for them to strike, but they keep speed walking in front of us. We pass three more houses before Henrietta finally speaks.

“Do I seem like someone with that kind of spare time?” she asks, glancing back at Alice.

“Spare time?”

“To gather intel, type out a column, proofread it, format it, print it, fold it, and deliver it from house to house? Do I seem that bored to you?”

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