Page 86 of Switch!
I hurry to the closet and grab the backpack. After a quick check inside, I fling it over a shoulder and motion for Trixie to follow me.
“Hey!” she says, stopping in the hall. She points at the photo of Caleb’s aunt. “Does this jog your memory at all? Remember her name now?”
I shake my head. “Nope.”
“Gotta be the brain thing,” Trixie whispers, tapping the side of her head.
“We’ll figure it out later. Let’s get out of here.”
We’re on the back porch and locking the door when a voice makes us freeze.
“Excuse me! What exactly are you doing? Do the owners of this house know you’re here?”
We both spin around to face an overweight man in his fifties. His face is red and he’s huffing with indignation. Or from the effort of reaching us. He lives in the house behind this one. I caught him watching us while we built the porch. More than once. He’s a nosey neighbor, and that spells trouble.
“Do you know the McCains?” Trixie asks.
“Of course I do,” the man grumbles.
That’s not true, unless they’ve become close since Caleb’s death, which I sincerely doubt.
“Then you know what today is,” Trixie continues.
“Well, umm…” The man turns a little redder. “The funeral?”
“Exactly.” Trixie exhales as if relieved. “We just came from there, which is why we’re dressed like this. We’re friends of the family.”
The man eyes us both, taking in the black clothing before his attention settles on Trixie and her purple pigtails. “What are you doing here though? Why are you sneaking in and out of the back door?”
Trixie looks at me and her shoulders slump. “He caught us. We should give up the act.”
“Wh-what?” I stammer, the blood draining from my face.
“We’re not supposed to be here,” Trixie says, facing the neighbor again. “You’re right. But we really did come from the funeral just now, and while we were there…” Her face twists up. “I loved Caleb so much! If only his parents hadn’t been so overbearing. Maybe then he wouldn’t have—” She makes a choking noise and shakes her head, as if she can’t continue.
“Was it suicide?” the neighbor asks, practically salivating at the fresh gossip she’s dangling in front of him.
“Suicide?” Trixie squeaks. “No, no. It was only an accident. Then again… Why was he out so late? And how come he’d been drinking? I can only think of one reason.”
The man leans forward. “Yes?”
“They pushed him too far. His parents tried to control every aspect of his life. Including me. Pleasepleasedon’t tell them I was here. They never approved of me. They forbid us to date.”
The neighbor rubs his chin like the world’s slowest detective attempting to solve a crime. “You were his girlfriend!”
“Yes. They only met me once. That’s all it took for them to put their foot down. I think it was the racial thing. They didn’t want their son dating a Chinese girl.”
“That’s all fine and good,” the neighbor says without a trace of irony. “But I still don’t understand what you’re doing here.”
“My backpack,” Trixie says, yanking it off my shoulder. She hugs it to herself possessively. “I left it in his closet. I used to sneak in at night so we could… Oh god, youreallycan’t tell them any of this! I don’t want to put them through even more turmoil. If they feel like they didn’t truly know their son, or blame themselves for what happened… I couldn’t bear it!”
She’s managed to work up a few tears. I’m impressed!
“I won’t say anything,” the man assures her. “To them,” he adds, most likely while making a mental list of all the other neighbors he plans on informing. He looks at me next, which is a shame, because I was discretely attempting to return the spare key to its hiding place. “And who are you?”
“Her uncle,” I reply. It’s the first thing that came to mind. Sarah accepted it as an answer, but this man isn’t nearly as broad in his worldviews. He’s looking back and forth between us, no doubt noticing the lack of a familial resemblance while seemingly unable to come up with a feasible explanation.
“I was adopted into the family,” I clarify, putting the key back in the rock and setting it down. “Thank you for keeping this a secret. I only want my niece to move on with her life, and this has been keeping her up at night. The thought of Caleb’s parents confronting her about the backpack, or the trouble she’d get into if her parents discovered she was sneaking into a boy’s room at night…”
