The House on the Gulf by Margaret Peterson Haddix

Author:Margaret Peterson Haddix [Haddix, Margaret Peterson]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781442430204
Publisher: Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers
Published: 2011-01-04T00:00:00+00:00

I glanced at my watch quickly, wondering if I’d just spent five hours staring at the Marquises’ family portrait. But it was only two o’clock. What was Bran doing home already?

I heard him coming down the hall toward his room. Quickly I yanked the closet door shut, hiding inside. I had one foot practically on top of the Marquises’ pictures, the other foot crammed between two boxes, and both hands braced against the wall. It was a good thing I was small for my age, because I wouldn’t have fit otherwise.

“Britt? Britt?” Bran kept calling. He was in his room now. I could tell from the sound of his footsteps that he had stopped near the dresser. I heard a series of rolling noises—he seemed to be pulling the drawers out of his dresser and then shutting them, one after the other.

“Where is it?” he muttered, then shouted, “Britt?”

He walked all the way around the room, stopping here and there, but he didn’t come near the closet. As soon as I heard him leave the room I jumped out of the closet, locked the door again with shaking hands, then sidled over to the door of his room.

I peeked out into the hall, but Bran wasn’t anywhere in sight. I stepped out and forced myself to walk casually out toward the living room, where Bran was still calling for me.

“There you are,” he said with great relief. “Where have you been?”

“Bathroom,” I lied.

“Really? But I just walked past there—”

“Mom’s bathroom,” I amended. “I like using it sometimes. I like having two bathrooms.”

He didn’t seem to notice that I was practically panting with relief at not having been caught, that I was still sweat soaked and dirty from being in the shed.

“Oh,” he said. “Hey, have you seen my keys? I got to work and I didn’t have them, and I’m on my break now so I came home to look for them—I’ve only got five more minutes—”

Trying to keep my hands from trembling, I pretended to reach into my pocket, then lifted the key ring high into the air. I let the keys dangle before his eyes.

“Oh, thank you,” he said. “I was so scared I’d lost them.”

“You don’t have any copies?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

“Just of the house key. Just the ones you and Mom have,” he said. “Of course, the Marquises have extras of the other two, but I don’t want to bother them.”

I would have bet anything that the Marquises didn’t have a copy of the closet key, but I didn’t tell Bran that.

“You left them in your shorts,” I said. “I found them when I was doing laundry.”

Bran looked down, and he seemed to take in the wet laundry I’d basically thrown down on the living-room floor.

“I. uh, ran out of quarters,” I lied. “I came home to get more so I can dry everything.”

I didn’t think my lie sounded any more convincing that any of the lies Bran had told. But he just reached down into his pocket and came up with a handful of change.

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