Hidebehind

Twenty-Eight

The minute I entered the house through the back door, stepping into the small foyer from which our bedroom, a bathroom, the living room, and the fancy room were accessible, I was greeted with the terrifying sound of crashing glass. A lot of it. Not a cup or vase—an entire shelf or two of the stuff. Frozen in shock for a moment, I suddenly realized what must have happened and darted into the room where Great Grandma kept all her old people's stuff.

My fears were confirmed when I saw Alex, standing as stiff and straight as a telephone pole, a look of absolute mortification on his face, surrounded by an entire pile of broken glass. One quick glance told me he'd somehow pulled over a shelf of Great Grandma's breakables, of which there were many. She had so many glittery old dusty things in that room that it resembled the inside of those old music boxes, the kind that opened up to reveal a figure in front of little mirrors that reflected themselves into infinity. Originally, I hadn't thought anything in that room was worth a second glance, but I was pretty sure that Great Grandma would not share my conclusion.

Time was limited. Penny, Maisie, Grandpa, Great Grandma—any of them could be in the room at any moment, depending on who'd heard it. "Quick!" I barked at him. "Get out of there. Come on!"

"I'm so sorry!" he hissed, as if he were afraid to make more noise.

"It's not my junk. I don't care. Just get out of there. And try not to break any more of it."

The jagged glass bits clinked and tinkled as Alex attempted to move gingerly through them. Any item which might have survived the fall had no chance, though, as he crunched through the pile to get beyond it. At every little squelch, his face twisted into some new look of shame, and at each of his grimaces, I felt a twinge of glee.

When he finally made it to me, I was in a much better mood than I had been a few moments prior. "Where're our sisters?"

"They're outside. Should I—what should—I was just looking around. I had no idea—"

"I don't even care," I fiercely cut him off. I wasn't mad, but I didn't want to hear his excuses. "Where's my Great Grandma?"

He brushed some dark hair out of his eyes. "Out with my mom. They went to look at the silo. Do you think she'll be mad at me? Oh man, I'm so sorry!"

"So she's gone for a while, the girls are outside, and Grandpa's out of it. Good. Probably nobody even heard the noise except me."

Alex stared at me, not really sure what I was getting at, then said, "But we have to tell them."

I shrugged. "Says who? We just clean it up and move on. Great Grandma never even comes in here. Have you seen the dust? It's just stuff. She wouldn't notice if ten shelves of this junk went missing, let alone one."

He eyed me quizzically, and it struck me that I was helping him. I was helping him so that he wouldn't get in trouble. But even as I considered the possibility of Great Grandma and his mother yelling at him, I realized it would not make me happy. As much as I disliked Alex, there was a part of me that didn't want him to hate me. Maybe he reminded me a little of my friends back home—minus the big jerk-who-leaves-people-alone-in-the-woods-at-night part.

"All right, then," he said quietly. "Let's clean it up."

We were left with the biggest mess we'd ever seen in our lives. Broken glass and bits of ceramic were all over the floor, an entire shelf had collapsed and was probably never going to be put back up, and the thick, shaggy carpet was going to need an intensive vacuum. We honestly didn't know where to begin. For a few solid minutes the two of us just stood there, staring, trying to figure out what to do. The good news was that we'd probably have a lot of time before anyone found out. The room was a velvet-couched museum—it wasn't a place to sit and have dinner or anything, although that must have been its original purpose. Penny played in there, but I didn't think she'd tell Great Grandma either, even if she did find out.