Page 207 of How My Neighbour Stole Christmas
“No, Taran,” I shout. “He didn’t. I know what I experienced with him these past weeks, and I saw the pain in his eyes when he came over here, blaming me for what happened to his house.”
“What happened to his house?” Aunt Cindy asks.
I’m about to answer when Taran says, “I took down his lights.”
“You did it?” I ask, turning to her. “You were the one who took down his lights?”
“Yes, I was. I did it for you.”
“Why on earth would you do that?” I shout.
“Because he was using you.”
“No, he wasn’t!” I shout again as tears stream down my face. “He wasn’t,Taran. God, I can’t believe you did this. That you would stoop so low as to hurt someone like that. This…this is the first Christmas he’s actually celebrated since his parents passed, and you…you went and ruined that. You took that away from him. Took away the joy, made him believe that the person who was falling for him betrayed him in the worst way possible.” Taran leans back, stunned. “He by no means was using me. He by no means was trying to take advantage of me. He helped me at points, he was my rock through these past few competitions, and he made me realize that Icouldstep past my fears and tackle big things. And you…and you went and ruined that.” I wipe away my tears. “I have to talk to him.”
I slip on my boots and head out of the house just as Atlas and Cole get into Atlas’s truck.
“Hold on,” I call, holding my hand up and hurrying toward them. They both look at me, and I can see Atlas say something to him. Cole shakes his head, and then without another word, Atlas starts the truck and pulls into the road.
No.
I look over at his house. His plain, unlit house.
How…
How could she have done this?
“Storee,” Aunt Cindy calls. “Come back inside.”
“No,” I say as the chill creeps over me. “Taran, where did you put them?” I’m loud enough that I have no doubt the entire neighborhood will be outside in seconds.
Taran steps into the doorframe. “Storee, it’s freezing—”
“Where did you put them?” I repeat, feeling crazed. “Tell me now, Taran.”
She sighs. “The trash.”
I march away from Aunt Cindy’s house and toward Cole’s side yard, where I spot his trash cans. I pop the lid off one of them, and lo and behold, it’s full of lights.
I’m still in my pajamas, but I don’t care. Adrenaline fuels me as I start pulling out the strands and untangling them in the process.
“Storee, what are you going to do?” Taran says hurrying up behind me.
“Put them back on his house.”
“You can’t possibly do that all by yourself.”
“You’re right,” I say as I swipe at my nose, the cold air making my nose run. “I’m going to need help.”
I bypass my sister and walk across the street, straight to Martha and Mae’s house. I head up their porch and press on their doorbell.
Not once.
Not twice.
But three times.
And when they don’t answer after five seconds, I do it again.
