Page 70 of How My Neighbour Stole Christmas
“What on earth are you doing?” Aunt Cindy says as I cast us into darkness.
I spin around toward Aunt Cindy and Taran, who are both looking at me as if I’ve lost my mind.
Since I practically sprinted back here, I’m sweating and need to free myself from my winter gear, so I tear off my coat, unravel my scarf, and then toss my mittens and winter hat into a pile on the floor before kneeling in front of the coffee table, staring at my sister and great-aunt.
“I know what he’s doing.”
“You know whatwhois doing?” Aunt Cindy asks, adjusting her glasses on her nose.
“Cole. I know what he’s planning on doing for his light display. I overheard him talking to Paula in the hardware store.”
“You did?” Aunt Cindy asks, looking hopeful.
I slowly nod. “Oh yes. He had no idea that I was listening in—I pretended to be invested in the curves and structure of a plunger, so much so that now all I can smell is the rubber of it all over me. Want to smell?” I lean toward my sister and aunt, but they both hold up their hands.
“No thanks, we don’t want to smell the plunger on you,” Taran says.
“Okay, well, it’s there. I’m smelling very rubbery right now.”
“You say that as if we should be proud.”
“You should be,” I say. “I did all the sleuthing, and now we have the upper hand because I know exactly what he’s doing.”
“Well, tell us, dear,” Aunt Cindy says. “Don’t keep us in suspense.”
I run my hand over the surface of the coffee table. “Okay, get this…he has a fifty-foot blow-up Santa that he plans on centering his entire display around. Paula’s looking for understated, classic Christmas, so I think he’s going to have a few lights, but yeah, it’s all about the Santa, so I think if we take that information and try to figure out…a…way…why are you looking at me like that?”
Aunt Cindy and Taran are both shaking their heads at me.
“What? What’s wrong?”
Taran crosses one leg over the other. “Storee, are you being serious right now?”
“Uh, yeah.” I thumb behind me. “I heard him—he said it several times. He even called Atlas and talked about it with him on the phone.”
Aunt Cindy pinches the bridge of her nose while Taran keeps shaking her head.
“What?” I say, growing annoyed.
“Did it ever occur to you that maybe Cole was playing you?” Taran asks.
“What do you mean, playing me?”
“Trying to throw you off with misinformation so you try to beat him at, oh I don’t know, a nice game of ‘who has the biggest blowup in their front yard?’”
“I mean…no,” I say. “He didn’t know I was listening.”
“He knew,” Aunt Cindy says. “Trust me, he knew. He’s a smart boy.”
“He didn’t. I was very stealthy about it. He probably thinks I went home with that plunger.”
“Storee, he was playing with you,” Taran says.
“He wasn’t,” I insist, standing my ground.
“He was,” Aunt Cindy repeats.
“No. I swear, I was—”
