Page 168 of Switch!
I offer my hand. He accepts it. I pull Caleb to his feet, dissolving all the black boxes except for the one we’re in. That one I change into a childhood bedroom. His, not mine. I visited this memory often enough after discovering his hidden copy ofThe Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. It always fascinated me to experience memories when he was still young and sensitive. Nothing like the bully he became.
For the first time, I experience the memory from the outside. We both do. I look over at Caleb. His attention is on the bed where a younger version of himself sits with a trembling flashlight in one hand and a paperback book in the other. Tears are streaming down the boy’s face as he reads the final chapter. He never knew a story could move him like that, and not for the first time. He already cried for Aslan. By the time he reached the end of the story, he cried from the sheer beauty of it all.
I lead the older Caleb to the bed, still holding his hand.
“Why don’t you join him?” I suggest. “You must be tired.”
Caleb nods. When he sits on the bed, he disappears into the boy, who turns his head to look at me. “Now what?”
“Keep reading,” I tell him. “The end is always the best part.”
He returns his attention to the open pages, his eyes moving across the words as fresh tears begin to flow. Then I do what Patrick taught me. I freeze time, trapping Caleb in a perfect moment of bliss. I take a step back, wiping away tears of my own while wishing that everyone could have a happy childhood—that innocence would last forever, untouched and unchallenged. As for me, I watch a moment longer, no longer regretting all the lonely nights that I spent reading. They allowed me to explore who I am, to have adventures without ever fearing danger, and to be challenged by viewpoints that weren’t my own. I grew so much while reading. If only more people were given that gift.
I watch young Caleb a moment longer, wanting to be certain that he’ll be okay, before turning my back on childish things like bullies and anger. A different world awaits me now. One filled with camaraderie and love.
— — —
When I open my eyes, Trixie is holding a vase above her head, ready to smash it over mine.
“Twitch! Switch! Whatever! It’s me!”
“Oh,” Trixie says, almost sounding disappointed. Then she sniffs and lowers the vase. “Good.”
“You don’t seem very happy!”
“I am,” she says. “It’s just been a boring couple of weeks. I was hoping for some action.”
Before I can retort, we hear a knock on the front door and freeze. My first thought is the police, but I come up with a less terrifying alternative.
“Jesse?” I whisper.
Trixie shakes her head, quiet when she answers. “He doesn’t show up unannounced. We have our own codes now.”
“Then who?”
-knock knock knock!-
The rapping sounds more insistent this time. Whoever they are, they won’t be dissuaded so easily. We creep together to the front door, staying low and hunched to the ground. Trixie very slowly raises herself up to look through the peephole. Then she relaxes.
“It’s definitely not the police,” she says.
“Who is it then?”
“I dunno. A trick-or-treater maybe?”
“Halloween isn’t until next week!”
She opens the door before I can stop her. Something short and stout shoves past her. They appear to be wearing a blanket that covers their entire head and body. Whoever it is moves deeper into the apartment while muttering, “Shut the door! Shut the door!”
Trixie does so. Then we turn and watch as the blanket is thrown aside, revealing a little old lady bundled up in layers upon layers of clothing.
“Where have you been?” Gismonda snaps. “You were supposed to arrive at my house two days ago.”
“Uh…” I respond. “Well, there was a small issue with the police—”
“Andwe had no idea we were supposed to visit you,” Trixie chimes in. “So there’s that.”
Gismonda clucks her tongue. “Don’t make excuses. I love your hair by the way.”
