Secrets in the Attic (Secrets 1)

"Wished her real father was still alive. She cried a lot about him, about losing him."

"Good. Do you have any idea why she would want to kill her stepfather?"

"What should I say?" I asked her.

"Just say no, Zipporah. If you tell them anything, you'll have to tell them everything. You were my friend, but you had no idea about anything that happened in my house. Leave it that way." "They won't believe me," I moaned.

"Get them to believe you for your own benefit," she advised. "All this is just as much a shock to you as anyone. Cry a lot. That will put a quick end to it."

"I won't have any trouble doing that:'

"Good." She looked around and smiled. "It'll be fine. We'll do fine," she said. "I'm hungry. I'd go down with you, but your father's surely coming home soon. I'm sure your mother's called him. Be careful not to get caught gathering food to bring up, need water, too. Fill up a few quarts."

She laughed and walked toward one of the dressers, bending over to pick up something beside it. She showed it to me. "Remember when we didn't know what this was, this chamber pot?"

"Yes."

"Looks like I'm going back to the nineteenth century in a hurry," she said. "Don't worry. I'll take care of all that."

"It will be so unpleasant for you, Karen."

"Not anywhere nearly as unpleasant as it has been in my own home. You know that."

I rose. "Okay. I'll get the food and water."

"And books . . . start thinking of other books for me to read. I'd like to keep my mind off things for a while," she said.

"Right "

"And magazines, too. Lots of magazines," she called as I walked toward the attic door.

"Right"

"I'll stay up all night and sleep most of the day. I'll be like a vampire."

I nodded and hurried down the stairs and to the kitchen to get what she needed before my father did come home. She was probably right about my mother calling him and both of them worrying about me. I fumbled about because I was so nervous and I was rushing so much, but I managed to put together a platter of cold chicken, some salad and bread, and a piece of cake. I found a carton and put everything in it along with two quarts of water, using empty milk bottles.

Hurrying up the stairs, I nearly tripped. She was waiting in the doorway and took the carton from me.

"Great," she said looking at it all. "Perfect. This is going to be fun. You'll see."

Fun? How could this possibly be any fun?

We both heard what sounded like a car pulling into our driveway and the garage door going up.

"My father!" I said, practically choking on the words.

"Calm down. He won't know I'm here unless you do something very stupid. Go on back to your room."

I nodded and moved quickly down the short stairway. I got into my room just as my father entered the house. He called my name and started up the stairs. I plopped onto my bed and held my breath. He knocked on my door.

"Come in," I said.

He opened the door slowly.

"Hey, kid-o," he said, smiling. "How are you doing?"

"Okay," I said.