Read Online Counterfeit Son by Elaine Marie Alphin - Free Book Online
Authors: Elaine Marie Alphin
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those tall ships, don't you?") to what to choose for lunch at the mall food court ("You can still eat plate after plate of those nachos smothered in fake cheese, I'll bet.").
The worst moment came when they looked at a rack of windbreakers and she said, "Here—you pick what you want, Neil. I've been choosing everything for you!" He reached instinctively for a clear blue jacket the color of the lake on a sunny day, and she said, "I was so sure you'd choose the black one. You always thought a black jacket was so cool."
Cameron froze. Now the accusation would come.
You can't be Neil—who are you?
But he couldn't make himself pick up the black one. Pop had a black jacket. He didn't think he could wear a jacket like Pop's. "This one looks like the lake," he said finally. "Would it be okay if I got it, instead?"
He held his breath, but she only said, "Of course! I want you to have whatever you want, honey. It's okay if you want to choose something different." She paused a moment, then added, "You're not eight anymore." But she sounded reluctant to admit it.
Finally she was spent, and he was relieved. He'd passed embarrassment at how much she'd bought him at least an hour earlier, and now felt actively guilty at taking so much from the Laceys. They walked by a video arcade on the way back to the car, and he couldn't help wondering if this was the same mall where Neil had been abducted. She didn't say anything, though, and so he kept his eyes straight ahead and followed her to the parking lot, lugging the overstuffed department store bags.
By the time they got home, he was exhausted from the effort of picking up on her hints and fearing that he'd do something so un-Neil-like that she'd realize the truth. How was he going to act the way the Laceys expected Neil to behave day after day? He could only hope that they'd ultimately decide their son had grown up and accept Cameron as they'd have accepted the fourteen-year-old Neil, but he didn't know if that would ever happen.
Diana came to watch them carry in the bags of clothes, her book under one arm. "I'd have come with you if I knew you were going to buy out the mall for real," she said. "I thought it was just an expression."
"I wish you had come," her mother said. "Have some dessert with us. I had Mrs. Pierson make chocolate cake."
Cameron didn't have to ask if that was Neil's favorite.
"I know," Diana said. "She wouldn't let Stevie or me eat any of it until you got home."
"Well, you can have some now," her mother said. She served Cameron a huge piece, and then gave Diana a smaller one. "You two enjoy—I'm going to call the office and make sure they're managing without me."
Cameron waited until she was gone. "Here," he said. "You can have the big piece. It's too much for me."
"No way," Diana said. "She'd notice, and blame me for bullying you."
"You didn't," he said.
"I know. But it wouldn't make any difference."
Cameron was too tired to argue. Once Diana licked the last of the frosting off her fork and left the table, he chewed mechanically for a while, in case his mother came back in. Then he scraped the rest of the cake down the garbage disposal, rinsed off his plate, and escaped to the dock, where he was too tired to track down Diana so he could go sailing. It was enough to look at the boat bobbing in the water, and to know he could escape into it if he wanted to.
He made it through the evening, finding it easier now that he knew where to sit and could guess Stevie's riddles. But the next morning when he awoke to find the twisted blanket squeezing him, not Pop, Cameron had to remind himself all over again that he was Neil now, and he was safe—as long as the Laceys believed him, anyway.
Mrs. Pierson was making bacon and eggs. She put a plate of sunny-side-up eggs in front of him as Cameron slid into his chair. "Just the way you like them," she said, beaming.
Cameron looked at the bright yellow runny yolks and felt his stomach clench. "Thanks," he managed.
The worst moment came when they looked at a rack of windbreakers and she said, "Here—you pick what you want, Neil. I've been choosing everything for you!" He reached instinctively for a clear blue jacket the color of the lake on a sunny day, and she said, "I was so sure you'd choose the black one. You always thought a black jacket was so cool."
Cameron froze. Now the accusation would come.
You can't be Neil—who are you?
But he couldn't make himself pick up the black one. Pop had a black jacket. He didn't think he could wear a jacket like Pop's. "This one looks like the lake," he said finally. "Would it be okay if I got it, instead?"
He held his breath, but she only said, "Of course! I want you to have whatever you want, honey. It's okay if you want to choose something different." She paused a moment, then added, "You're not eight anymore." But she sounded reluctant to admit it.
Finally she was spent, and he was relieved. He'd passed embarrassment at how much she'd bought him at least an hour earlier, and now felt actively guilty at taking so much from the Laceys. They walked by a video arcade on the way back to the car, and he couldn't help wondering if this was the same mall where Neil had been abducted. She didn't say anything, though, and so he kept his eyes straight ahead and followed her to the parking lot, lugging the overstuffed department store bags.
By the time they got home, he was exhausted from the effort of picking up on her hints and fearing that he'd do something so un-Neil-like that she'd realize the truth. How was he going to act the way the Laceys expected Neil to behave day after day? He could only hope that they'd ultimately decide their son had grown up and accept Cameron as they'd have accepted the fourteen-year-old Neil, but he didn't know if that would ever happen.
Diana came to watch them carry in the bags of clothes, her book under one arm. "I'd have come with you if I knew you were going to buy out the mall for real," she said. "I thought it was just an expression."
"I wish you had come," her mother said. "Have some dessert with us. I had Mrs. Pierson make chocolate cake."
Cameron didn't have to ask if that was Neil's favorite.
"I know," Diana said. "She wouldn't let Stevie or me eat any of it until you got home."
"Well, you can have some now," her mother said. She served Cameron a huge piece, and then gave Diana a smaller one. "You two enjoy—I'm going to call the office and make sure they're managing without me."
Cameron waited until she was gone. "Here," he said. "You can have the big piece. It's too much for me."
"No way," Diana said. "She'd notice, and blame me for bullying you."
"You didn't," he said.
"I know. But it wouldn't make any difference."
Cameron was too tired to argue. Once Diana licked the last of the frosting off her fork and left the table, he chewed mechanically for a while, in case his mother came back in. Then he scraped the rest of the cake down the garbage disposal, rinsed off his plate, and escaped to the dock, where he was too tired to track down Diana so he could go sailing. It was enough to look at the boat bobbing in the water, and to know he could escape into it if he wanted to.
He made it through the evening, finding it easier now that he knew where to sit and could guess Stevie's riddles. But the next morning when he awoke to find the twisted blanket squeezing him, not Pop, Cameron had to remind himself all over again that he was Neil now, and he was safe—as long as the Laceys believed him, anyway.
Mrs. Pierson was making bacon and eggs. She put a plate of sunny-side-up eggs in front of him as Cameron slid into his chair. "Just the way you like them," she said, beaming.
Cameron looked at the bright yellow runny yolks and felt his stomach clench. "Thanks," he managed.
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