"Hey, Bryce? Do you have any boxes I can use? I don't want them guessing just from the shape."
Bryce directed his sister in the direction of his bedroom with an added comment about checking beneath his bed. It didn't occur to him until roughly seven minutes later that there was one box he didn't want her finding. He took the stairs two at a time, arriving at his doorway red-faced and his chest heaving. The door cracked open and he saw the bowed head of blond hair cradling an opened shoe-box, a black and white photograph held in hand. He inhaled noisily, and with careless strength, pushed Laurie aside and yanked the picture from her grasp.
With wide eyes, she stared up at him, her expression a mix of confusion and concern. "Bryce? What's wrong?"
"Where's the letter? Did you read it?" Hurriedly, he searched the carpet near her legs and beneath the bed. His gaze lit upon her lap; the half burned letter rested, face down on her flowered skirt. Clumsily, he snatched it back. He searched her face for some sign of understanding. "Laurie, tell me, did you read this?"
"No, I didn't- geez, Bryce, what's wrong with you? You said I could look under you bed." She crossed her arms defensively, and Bryce released a relieved sigh. She hadn't read it- she didn't know then. That had been careless of him; if she had read even the first line in that letter- just the first few words- he closed his eyes. But she hadn't.
"You're right, I did. I just forgot I had this under there. Gotta have a few secrets, right?" He rocked back on his heels, tucking the shoe-box tightly under his arm.
"Well, that's some kind of weird secret then, if it's about that picture. What's with that anyway? Is it normal for boys to have baby pictures of strangers hidden under their bed?" Her words rang with suspicion, and Bryce decided to rely on the age old art of distraction.
"Aw. . .how cute! Larva's trying to be the big, bad detective again." Her reaction was a predictable scowl, and he made sure to quickly follow up with yet another carrot. "What did you need the box for? Wrapping a present for your little boyfriend?"
When her cheeks instantaneously turned a shade of dark red, he knew he had struck pay dirt. Confident that his shoe-box and seemingly overwrought reaction to its discovery had been forgotten, he dug in. "Eh. . . I was right? Lucky! Hmm. . .but who could it be? Definitely not that squirt you had here over the summer-"
"Hey! Josh is not a squirt!"
And now the shovel had hit oil. Bryce smirked. "I am so telling Dad; this is gonna be great."
Laurie scrambled up from the carpet, rushing to put herself between him and the door. "No, that's perfectly okay! You really don't need to do that. Why don't you just stay here and, um, check your e-mail or something. Are you hungry? How about I make you a sandwich?" And without waiting for his response, she scampered out the door still rambling about his need for privacy.
Once the door had closed behind her, his smile dimmed. He stared down at the shoe-box. That had been really careless of him. He fell back heavily on his bed, his arm coming to rest over his forehead. The fan overhead completed its normal rounds of revolutions and absently, it occurred to him that it was only pure fortune that had prevented her from reading that letter. He ought to destroy it, finish the job his father had started with a match years earlier.
And yet. . .he hesitated. The letter wasn't his to destroy. He would simply need to be more careful in the future.
A knock interrupted. Laurie peered through after turning the knob, a plate loaded with various leftovers grabbed from fridge preceding her. "Food?"
He sat up and waved her in. She grinned in response. The time for that letter would come, eventually, and in the meantime, he would enjoy whatever memories the present gave him. "You know, food's a good bribe, but I'm thinking that not exposing your lover man is worth a little more. I'm thinking dish-washing duties for the rest of break sounds about right."
She protested, he teased some more, and within a few minutes, the near crisis was forgotten. Next time, though, Bryce knew, he might not be so lucky.