The Holiday Switch(21)

I sigh, but after a beat, nod. There’s no point in lying. As if I could get homework done knowing my phone’s with Teddy. And while I’m not great at making ornaments, I can definitely snoop.





Twenty minutes after Carm successfully logs in to my Find My Phone app, I kill the engine of my car behind KC’s, who is parked behind Carm. If we were trying to be stealthy, we failed miserably, with our three cars traveling in close caravan to Mistletoe Lane at the northeasternmost part of town and then parking inches from each other on a road that butts up against the open expanse of fields.

This is a bad, bad idea. So I sit in my car with my hands on the steering wheel and mull over potential escape plans. I could simply restart the car, make a U-turn, and speed out of there. Or maybe I could feign sickness?

I look out into the darkness, beyond the sparse wire fence, to the building beyond. There are several cars parked next to it.

Something niggles at the back of my brain, a spark of a story. Maybe Teddy’s part of a secret organization building a nuclear reactor that’s supposed to intercept the next meteor headed straight to earth à la Armageddon. Or maybe it’s a secret lab creating mold spores that turn the population into zombies, like The Girl with All the Gifts.

    Whatever it is, it has everything to do with those messages I read earlier today.

Not sure how you’re going to manage a new job and the thing we’re not supposed to talk about.

A sudden pounding on my window makes me yelp, and I look to the passenger side, where both Carm’s and KC’s faces are plastered against the glass. “Oh my God! Don’t do that!”

They burst into laughter and gesture for me to exit.

I shake my head; they both nod.

“Dang it.” I open my door and step out into the cold night. From the building, there’s a faint sound of music. “What even is that place?”

“My map shows it as an open field,” KC says.

“Let’s go find out,” Carm adds.

I don’t get a chance to object. My friends march toward the building, huffing and puffing determinedly in the cold air. “I feel like this is an invasion of privacy.”

“And yet, he has your phone. If you’re reading his notifications, then he’s doing the exact same thing, so it’s a mutual privacy invasion. Besides, I want to see this Teddy.” Carm’s profile gleams with mischief.

“Oh, he’s cute,” KC adds.

“Even better.”

Feet away from the entrance, my friends stop, and I run into their backs. “Ooomph,” KC says as he trips forward.

Nope, not stealthy.

“You lead the way, Lila.” Carm pushes me toward the closed metal door.

“What? This isn’t even my idea!” I protest.

    Just then, the door opens with a wild screech. I jump back, barely missing being hit.

“Whoa. Watch out!” a guy yells. He’s wearing short shorts, a tank top, winter boots, and a long coat. Not quite the norm for winter in the Finger Lakes. He marches straight to his car, passing KC and Carm without acknowledging them.

The echoes of voices inside draw me closer; I pull the door open and a stuffy smell wafts out. When I hesitate, Carm and KC nudge me forward into the bright light of a barn.

My gaze rises higher and higher, and then all around the room, where it takes me one, two, three seconds to orient myself.

There are bodies everywhere. Half clothed, climbing walls, hanging from structures, strapped in by ropes, some contorted into weird positions. I stumble forward as my friends pile in, gasping and giggling.

I tear my eyes away, barely able to watch in case someone falls. As I turn, I see a vinyl sign that says CLIMB HOLLY.

A climbing gym. In Holly. When did this happen?

“Whoa,” Carm says.

“This is rad,” KC adds.

A woman in a yellow long-sleeve Climb Holly shirt saunters in our direction. Her face is familiar, though with all the noise and sights of the gym, my brain can’t place her. “Hi there, welcome to Climb Holly.” She gives me a little wave, then pauses. “Wait a minute. Aren’t you from the Bookworm Inn? I was there the other day, in the free library.”

After a beat of concerted focus, I remember. “You were talking to Teddy that day.”

“That’s me! Amaya Reddy, owner of Climb Holly.” Her smile is bright and inquisitive. “How can I help you all?”

    “We…I…” A flash of red grabs my attention and I look up to a wall, where a person is hanging on for dear life. “I didn’t know that we had a climbing gym in Holly.”

“Oh yeah! We haven’t done much advertising, but we’ve been open for a couple of months now.”

“You have a lot of customers.” At the sound of a sharp snap, my head jerks to a person on the ground adjusting a rope tied to his waist.

“Glad to say that the hard-core folks found us. The fall and winter seasons bring in even those who prefer to climb outside.”

“Ah.” I swallow back my nerves, imagining these people climbing actual mountains without the large pads to soften their landing, just in case they…

The thought brings about the sour beginnings of nausea.

“Do you want to take a look around?”