Page 37 of Switch!
I’ve only ever stolen once before, shortly after my dad took off. Money was tight. My mom didn’t try to hide this from me. It was all-too evident when we went grocery shopping and sacrifices had to be made. So on one occasion, I shoved my mother’s favorite candy bar down my pants and didn’t pull it out again until we were in the car. I was young enough that I thought she would be happy. Instead she burst into tears. I never stole again after that. Unless you count the body I’m in now.
I watch nervously as Eddie grabs two empty glasses off a nearby table and flings out the remaining droplets. He hands these to me, the stems crisscrossed together. “Just walk by and grab a bottle. Make sure it isn’t an empty one. That’s the Klingler family. They always get wasted. Probably are already, but I’ll make sure to keep them distracted. If anyone stops you, roll your eyes and say your parents sent you for a drink.”
“The bartender would be okay with that?”
“Who knows?” Eddie says, sounding impatient. “This isn’t the private sector. Just be convincing and people will let you slide by.”
I’m still not down with his plan. “Why don’t I distract the Klinglers, and you steal the bottle?”
“Because people get a lot more suspicious when they see a Mexican kid sneaking around. Use your white privilege, man! I know I would.”
I almost explain to him that I’m not entirely white—my dad is full-blooded Native American—but that was another life. And another body.
“I’m going in,” Eddie says.
Before I can stop him, he walks over to talk to the Klingler family and flashes a smile. I watch as he gestures toward the carnival and starts telling a story. He’s already got them all facing away from the table. The least I could do is walk over there. I can’t get into trouble for holding two empty wine glasses. I approach in a wide arc so I can come up behind them. Nobody is paying any attention to me, but I’m convinced everyone will look the second I grab a bottle. Eddie catches my eye briefly, his expression telling me to hurry. Two of the bottles are partially empty. I swipe the only one that is still unopened and walk away, holding the bottle low, pressing it against my hip. My fingers grip the bottom, my arm shielding it from view, I hope. Not knowing where to go, I head for the grass where we were standing before, since it’s less crowded there. Now it feels exposed. Eddie joins me a second later, putting an arm around my shoulder and guiding me toward a line of trees, the bottle nestled between us.
“You got this, man,” he says out of the corner of his mouth. “Stay cool. Just a little farther.”
I’m going to hear Major McCain yelling at any second, I’m certain. He’s going to ask me where I’m going, he’ll notice what I’m holding, and his reaction will be worse than the time I backed the truck into the mailbox. Wait, that’s Caleb’s life, not mine. He had to walk everywhere for a month afterwards. Even his friends weren’t allowed to pick him up. Major McCain tracked Caleb’s movements on his phone to be sure.
I’ve broken out into a sweat by the time we’ve reached the trees and disappear into their shade. A tall fence topped by razor wire halts us. Eddie leans his back against this and laughs. “Nice job, homie! That’s a full bottle, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” I say, finally relaxing as I hold it up. “Now we just need a corkscrew.”
“Twist top,” Eddie says, squinting at the bottle. “I don’t like red much, but hey, booze is booze!”
He takes the wine glasses from me and holds them up to the sun. “This one has lipstick on it. Here.” He tries to hand it to me.
“No way! I’m the one who stole the bottle. Give me the cleaner glass.”
“Fine, fine,” Eddie says, handing me the other one. “I don’t mind. It’ll be like kissing Mrs. Klingler.”
“Gross!”
Eddie grins. “Your loss. She’s a looker! Start pouring.”
I put the bottle between my thighs and hold it there so I can unscrew the top. I fill his glass, then mine. I assume that we’re too cool to toast, but Eddie surprises me by raising his glass.
“Here’s to my new friend with the sticky fingers,” he says. “What’s your name again?”
“Caleb,” I say with a laugh. He takes a swig and I copy him, flattered that he called me his friend. I’d be up for that. Eddie seems cool so far.
“Where’d you move here from?” he asks.
“Cheyenne,” I reply.
“Shy Ann?” he repeats. “Is that a person or a place?”
I tell him a little about myself, unsure if I should be drawing from Caleb’s past or my own, and consider using both, until I remember that the most interesting thing about Travis has to remain a secret. Not that he would believe me anyway.
“Sounds like you escaped a very boring place,” Eddie says, pouring each of us another glass. “Small towns are the worst.”
“You’ve moved around a lot?”
“Used to, yeah. Texas to Georgia, then up to Michigan and over to Colorado. That’s just some of them. I’ve been here since freshman year, which I like. I never wanted to switch halfway through high school like my brother did. Or you. That must suck.”
I shrug. “I wanted to get out of there. Now I’m more worried about what’ll happen after I graduate.”
