Suspicion Read Online Free

sandwiches.
    “There’s something hidden in the Maze,” he says quietly.
    “Really?” My eyes widen. “Like buried treasure?”
    “Something like that. But you’ll have to be my good little girl and wait,” he cautions. “We can’t go get it, not for a while.”
    I frown, unaccustomed to waiting. Sensing my displeasure, Dad takes my hand.
    “It’s there for when you really need it. You’ll know when that day comes.” He looks at me intently. “If I’m not here to show you … just remember the hydrangeas. When you see them, that means you’re close.”
    I squint up at my father, wondering if he’s gone mad.
    “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t you be able to show me yourself?”
    Dad’s expression turns teasing.
    “Because I’m your awfully important and busy father, that’s why! Come on now, let’s race back to the house.”
    I feel my trepidation start to fade, and I grin as he calls out, “On your mark … get set … go!”

    Two summers ago, Lucia convinced our parents to let us have a slumber party in the Rockford boathouse—as close as we could get to sleeping under the stars while still being sheltered from the unpredictable English weather. After the night patrolman promised to keep watch outside the door, our parents gave in, and Lucia and I spent a jubilant evening sharing a treacle tart baked by Mrs. Findlay while watching our favorite movie, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, with the patter of rainfall outside adding to the ambience. The summer slumber party became our tradition, but tonight I’m surprised when Lucia reminds me about it. Watching her gaze at Sebastian and hold his hand earlier, it seemed to me that I was witnessing her growing up, leaving me and our childish rituals behind. But maybe I was wrong—because tonight finds us heading down the South Lawn toward the boathouse, Lucia carrying a covered pie dish from Mrs. Findlay while I aim the flashlight straight ahead.
    Lucia unlocks the French doors and we enter a single airy room decorated entirely in whites and blues. White flowers peek out of blue vases; blue pillows adorn white couches; even the tile floor insists on an ivory-and-navy scheme. This is the most casual room at Rockford, the place where Lucia and I are free to play and snack indoors without worrying about breaking some priceless object or spilling soda on ancient linens. But instead of savoring our slumber party, like I normally would, I feel myself tense up every time Lucia speaks, afraid that she’s going to tell me things I don’t want to hear—about her and Sebastian, or worse, about what she saw me do with the Canterbury bell. Luckily she doesn’t mention either, and I breathe a sigh of relief when she turns on Prisoner of Azkaban.
    We curl up in sleeping bags on our respective couches in front of the TV, and I’m just drifting off to sleep at the end of the movie when I hear her speak softly.
    “You’re not upset about me and Sebastian … are you?”
    My eyes snap open. Me and Sebastian. The phrase alone knots my stomach, but I force myself to lie.
    “No.” Still, I can’t help asking, “Is he your boyfriend?”
    I see her head bob up and down.
    “I think so.”
    I turn to lie on my side, hugging my knees to my chest. I don’t want to hear, but I’m desperate to know more.
    “Have you … kissed him?”
    “A peck. It was nicer than I expected,” she giggles. “I’m so glad you don’t mind, Imogen. I know you fancy Sebastian, but he and I are the right age for this sort of thing, you know? Maybe you and Theo will get together when you’re older, and the four of us can double-date! Wouldn’t that be brilliant?”
    I open my mouth to speak, to tell her that I’ve always felt older than my years, that I belong with Sebastian just as much as she does. But I can’t. So Lucia continues chattering on, oblivious to the tear trailing down my cheek. And I’m grateful for the darkness that hides my face.

    I wake in the