Page 154 of Switch!
“Sweet baby child?” I repeated with a snort.
“Shut up! I was trying to sound like a mom.”
“Mission accomplished,” I say. “Think he got the message?”
“He was telling the truth when he said he understood.” The crinkles reappear between her eyebrows. “So we’re really doing this?”
I start to nod. Then I remember the conversation we were having before the call. “Jesse? What do you think?”
I don’t believe in prophecies. If all I have to do is drive, and you can erase any trace of my visit, then I’m still okay with the plan.
“He’s in,” I tell Trixie. “Let’s get started.”
Thirty-three ↔ Chapter
My mother was at home when Trixie spoke to her the other night, which implies that she’s working the day shift this week. We drive to my old apartment while the sun is still up. Like the previous visit, I send Trixie to the door. When nobody answers, I join her. We don’t have a fake rock. Our spare key solution is even more obvious. I lift the welcome mat, causing Trixie to groan.
“I know,” I say. “Be grateful. Otherwise we’d be out shopping for new clothes right now.”
We can’t have Caleb running around in an inmate’s uniform. How fortunate that he already packed a bag. I promised myself before coming to the apartment that I would grab only what I need and leave again. Once we’re in the living room, I’m overtaken by nostalgia. This is my home, and I missed it. Even the ever-present scent of stale cigarette smoke. Everything looks the same, although a quilt has been draped over the couch and tucked in around the cushions. I guess my mother felt like trying something new.
“Nice place,” Trixie says.
She can’t possibly mean that. “I know it’s not perfect,” I reply with a shrug, “but you know what they say. There’s no place like home.”
“I always hated that movie,” Trixie grumbles.
“What? Who doesn’t loveThe Wizard of Oz?”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s fine until the end. You know when Dorothy wakes up and all of a sudden it was just a dream? What a copout. They should have had Dorothy take her family back to Oz with her. Who wants to live in dusty old Kansas anyway?”
I laugh and lead the way to my bedroom. The poster of a swimsuit model is new. When I notice the book on my nightstand, my heart nearly breaks.The Horse and His Boy. The fifth Narnia book. Caleb was finally reading the rest of the series. I pick it up and find a bookmark halfway through. I wish he had gotten a chance to read it all. And he will, because I’m more determined than ever to free him.
“Found it!” Trixie says, standing near the closet and holding up a backpack. When she unzips it to double-check, I grab the remaining two Narnia books—publishing order only, no arguments—and shove them inside along with the one Caleb hasn’t finished yet.
“Let’s go,” I say. “I don’t want any of the neighbors to report seeing Jesse here.”
We have a few other errands to run, including getting something to eat. I let Jesse take over for that part. I’m too nervous for food. He doesn’t fare much better. The sun is setting when he shoves away a half-eaten burger. We leave the diner and drive to the detention center for the second time that day, parking between two SUVs where we’re less likely to be noticed. Then we wait. Half an hour goes by. We don’t see anyone coming or going from the building.
“We should have asked Caleb when shifts begin and end,” Trixie says.
“You’re right,” Jesse murmurs. “We could be waiting here for hours.”
The front door opens. An overweight man wearing a beige uniform steps outside, glances around while stretching, and pulls out a pack of cigarettes.
I’m making the jump, I tell Jesse.Don’t drive away until he goes back inside.
“This is it,” Jesse informs Trixie. “He wants us to stay out of sight.”
They shift further down in their seats, but I don’t think they’ll be spotted. Another row of cars is between us and the building. I lose sight of them as I leap into the void. All I can see aside from the distant glow of plants is a large round cyan light.
Roscoe is the officer’s name, I discover when I merge with him. He’s worked here for three years. His duties have him interact directly with the youths in his care. He guards the common room and conducts hourly checks on each dorm to make sure everyone is where they are supposed to be, including at night when they sleep. Perfect!
I allow him to remain in control, although I’m poised to change that should he take an interest in the cars parked nearby. He doesn’t. Roscoe stares at the pinkish orange sky while dreaming about the video game he’ll play on the weekend. He has a new one coming in the mail and—well, it’s of little interest to me. Only when he stubs out his cigarette do I take over. As he’s reentering the building, I make him notice the bush by the door and the small red tube beneath it. Fake blood. The kind sold in cheesy stores at the mall, which is exactly where we got ours.
“Huh,” I have Roscoe say before he picks up and pockets the tube.
I check his memory when we enter the building. The rectangular ID hanging around his neck on a lanyard doubles as an electronic keycard. The guards call them badges, and I’ll need mine to unlock the external door. I press it to a sensor. The door clicks and buzzes, allowing me to enter. I approach the reception window where I stood the other day. I don’t recognize the woman behind the counter, but I’m relieved that we’ve figured out I can possess almost anyone, regardless of gender. I make the leap, prodding her memory of how visitors are logged, and more specifically, if deleting those entries is possible. My stomach sinks when I get Carla’s reaction to the thought.
