Girl in Reverse (9781442497368) by Barbara Stuber Page A

Chows’ trash?”
    â€œNooo.”
    I take a breath, then another. A bell chimes in my mind. I turn to him. “Where did you get it, Ralph?”
    He looks like he is trying to swallow a straight pin. “In our attic.”
    â€œYou found this in the . . . ?”
    â€œYep! You have to swear not to tell, Lily. If you don’t swear—Boy Scout’s honor, I will join the army tomorrow.”
    Before I know it, Ralph has me holding up three fingers and repeating that on this day of January 26, 1951, I will never divulge that he found a Chinese wrist rest in the Firestone attic.
    I rub my forehead. “My headache’s worse.”
    â€œYeah, well, it’s gonna get real worse in a sec. . . .” His look has a story behind it.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œWell, I also found that swirly carved rock in our attic.” Ralph’s eyes narrow.
    I sit back on my heels. My insides hum. “When?”
    â€œWhen I was building my pigeon coop. I found a box hidden under a tarp.” Ralph’s face is sweaty.
    â€œWhat box?” I ask.
    He points, swallows. “It’s up there. Chinese stuff. It’s yours.”
    My hands fly up. I leap off the bed and face him. “Why didn’t you tell me about it? God! You should have told me the second you found it!”
    He shakes his hands at me. “I am telling you. I tried a thousand times—before Michelangelo called. And before that, I showed you that shell thing and pretended I was making a Scout collection, which I’m really not , but you didn’t catch on. I thought you might recognize the wrist stick from your past and figure it out yourself so I wouldn’t get in trouble and . . .”
    â€œYou never get in trouble. What else is in there?”
    â€œPaintbrushes.”
    I blink at the curved pattern Mother’s vacuum has made in the carpet. I run my foot back and forth until it’s gone.Ralph stares at me. He looks miserable. I rub my cheeks.
    â€œAnd tools and rocks and sticks,” Ralph adds, “and Oriental dust and . . .”
    â€œSo that’s why you asked about the adoption belongings.”
    â€œYeah. I thought they’d confess,” Ralph whispers. “But of course they didn’t because they hid it. And if Mom finds out that I found it, I’ll be dead before I ever get to go in the army.”
    The house is silent except for Ralphie’s pigeons. I’ve never been in the attic because the stairs are creepy and it’s full of squirrel poop. I can’t imagine my mother ever setting foot up there. “Is it big?” I ask.
    Ralph spreads his hands. “No. Just a beat-up wooden case with a latch.”
    â€œMaybe it belonged to the people who lived here before us?”
    Ralph shrugs. “Nope.”
    â€œWhy not? There’s no proof it belongs to me.”
    â€œUh, just your name on it, plus a vampire door knocker and . . . Don’t you wanna see it?”
    My name? Liquid fear slides through me—a hand grenade from my past in the attic. “I . . . I don’t know. I can’t think. Not yet.”

Chapter 9
    I cannot go to sleep. Gone Mom is awake too, pacing the attic, waiting for me. “Ralph, wake up,” I whisper at midnight.
    â€œI already am.” He struggles to sit up in his bed, digs his flashlight from under the covers. “I knew you’d wanna go up there.”
    I nudge him. “Go get it. Please.”
    He hands me the flashlight. “You go. It’s yours.”
    â€œYou’re the better stalker. Come on! I might step in something.”
    Ralph stands facing me in the dark. He tests his flashlight just long enough to highlight his red striped pajamas buttoned up to his chin. He climbs the splintery steps in bare feet and disappears into the dark hole at the top. I hear grunting and faint rattling. I track him crawling across the ceiling.