The House Swap: Parts Three–Four

Dad and Max appear in the doorway behind Willow, and
Dad pries Pandora from Willow’s enthusiastic grasp and
puts her down on the ground.

Our house is overflowing with what Mum calls “knickknacks,” bought as souvenirs on vacations and days
out over the years.

The only things on display in
Sage’s house are a couple of weird white sculptures on
the mantelpiece, an enormous white candle on the table
that has obviously never been lit, and a huge black-and-white photograph of Sage with her mum and dad, which
is hanging above a futuristic-looking fireplace.

What did Sage say
the crystal she gave me was called? Golden topaz? I turn
to the Gs. There are two Gs: galena and garnet.

Citrine is considered to be a crystal of abundance
and good fortune.

“It says here that Oxford is known as the ‘city of
dreaming spires,”’ Mom says, looking up from her guidebook.

We’re going on a walking tour led by an Oxford
university student, which ends with a punt down the
river.

Punting turned out to be going slowly down a river in a
boat while Giles, the student tour guide, pushed a pole
against the bottom of the river to move us along. Giles
said the word “punt” comes from a Latin word meaning
“flat-bottomed boat.” Mom said it’s like going in a gondola, but Giles didn’t look as if he agreed.

She said that
details are essential in putting together a good cover
story but that you should try to keep things simple at
the same time.
“Don’t deviate from the truth unless absolutely necessary,” Allie had said firmly.

“Just after ten. Fancy some breakfast?”
“Yes, please. I’m starving. What time is it at home?”

“Hello, dear,” I say to my reflection. “I’m Gwen
Armstrong.” Think Like a Spy says you need to inhabit
the world of your alias.

Sage’s dad sounds worried and relieved all at the
same time. I feel a twinge of guilt.

Max is wearing a ridiculous pair of swim shorts with garish tropical
flowers on them that almost reach his knees, and—oh,
it can’t be.

Pyrite, also known as fool's gold, is a powerful stone
of protection and confidence. Are you facing a formidable challenge?

As the parent of a redheaded child,
it’s essential to be aware of the risks of sun exposure.

Redheads carry a gene called MC1R, which increases
the risk of developing malignant melanoma.

I wonder if I was ever
like that when I was younger. If I ever just pranced up
to a bunch of kids that I hardly knew and started doing
cartwheels with them.

“Check me out blathering on about the good old days
back in Oz,” Brad says eventually. “Less talk, more
action. Come on, let’s go.”

Peridot is a must-have crystal for anger
management. Do you need to let go of negativity and resentment in your life?

“For some unknown reason,” Dad says, his voice ominously calm, “Sage called me yesterday and informed
me that you had been stung by a bee and were in the
hospital. I panicked and got on the next available flight
to London. I even spoke to some weird-sounding woman
who told me that Sage could stay with her overnight
until I arrived.”

“She’s upset? She’s upset? I’m probably going to lose
the contract in New York. I literally dropped everything
to come here. I’ve been frantic.”

We saw an actual Enigma machine at Bletchley Park today. The sign said it has
158,962,555,217,826,360,000 different settings.

My favorite is
the Bump and Shift method. You bump the last letter of
each word to the first letter of the next and then shift the
spacing to the left by one. For an extra level of security, I usually add a 1 at the beginning of the word and a 0 at
the end. It should be obvious to Sage that she needs to
look at the Cipher chapter in Think Like a Spy—if she
can’t figure that out, there’s no hope.

Bear’s distinctive deep bark
echoes across the fields.

Bear’s barks are coming from right outside the bush
now, and I can hear him scrabbling around.

Despite my having given what
I thought was a realistic portrayal of someone with a severe ear infection, Mum and Dad said that I had to
come back to surf camp.

If I did have an ear infection,
surfing would probably lead to a ruptured eardrum.

I’m the only child in my imaginary family, so I pretty
much get to choose what we do. That’s the kind of family
I should be in. Instead, here I am at the beach with my alleged real family.

After wriggling into my probably peed-in wet suit, I skulk over to join Brad and the rest of the group.

OUCH! I unfasten the Velcro strap around my ankle
and limp gingerly up the beach.

I must have stepped
on some glass. The sole of my foot feels like it’s on fire.

I stand up, ready to wriggle out of this gross wet suit,
hopefully for the last time, and gingerly put some weight
on my stung foot. It prickles as if I had stepped on a
thousand nettles.

“And we care about each other,” Dad says. “We always
will. We share the best thing in the world—you.”
“Nora and Nico’s parents share them, and they can’t
even be in the same room as each other,” I say bitterly.

“Only Allie could make my nearly drowning about her,”
Max says when we are back at the house, but he doesn’t
sound snarky, just very, very tired.

“Mum and Dad decide because they are supposed to
be adults. They’re supposed to make sensible decisions.”

Dad closes the door softly behind him, and the tears
that have been hiding all evening flow down my cheeks
and soak into Sage’s pristine pillowcase.

I read the inscription around the edge: “‘G C & C S
BLETCHLEY PARK AND ITS OUTSTATIONS.’” I
turn it over to examine the other side and realize it’s not
a coin at all; it’s some kind of medal with a pin to attach
it to your clothes.

“Can you imagine
what Grandma is going to say when we show her? Be
careful with it.”
“I will,” I say, wrapping the brooch back into its velvet
bed and tucking it gently into my pocket.

“I want to say goodbye to my friends and thank you
to the lifeguards,” Max says quietly while Mum and Dad
discuss who should go surfing and Willow prattles on
about wanting to bring Tutu McFeathers with her and
tiny silver surfboard trophies.

She
has wispy hair the color of a strawberry, bright brown
eyes, and a smattering of freckles.