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The crowd shouted their displeasure at Junior. Something Sylvie would’ve reveled in if it were happening at any other moment.
“Pero niño! Que te pasa?” their father snapped. “Go get the ladder now, and if I hear you disrespect your sister again, you can find a way to pay your own mortgage from now on.”
Like a sullen teenager, Junior cursed under his breath before trotting off in a jog toward the house.
“You’re so lucky you’re an only child,” Sylvie decided, using her fingernail to pick at the cuticle around her thumb.
“You might be right about that,” she agreed with a raised brow.
Below them, the squabbling continued as a dozen people shouted over each other at once. With everyone talking, and no one listening.
With a chuckle, Lauren looked over at Sylvie. Her dark gaze lingering on Sylvie’s lips. “What if we just never come down?”
“Well, my brother is in charge of our means of rescue. There’s a decent chance we’re not getting out of here anytime soon. He’ll forget what they sent him over there for and come back with a PEZ dispenser.”
Lauren laughed. The most uplifting sound on the planet. “He really is more of a douche than I realized.”
“See what I’ve been dealing with?”
Lauren nodded. “Your constant state of irritation definitely makes more sense.”
“What are we going to do about this?” Sylvie pressed her fist to her churning stomach.
Lauren let go of her hand and circled her arm around Sylvie’s waist. She tucked her into her side as if she might hide her away.
A gust of wind carried the sound of Lauren’s uncle’s raspy shouts up to the treehouse. “I know what this is! This is some kind of false flag operation! You’re trying to sneak in under our defenses. Get at us from the inside!”
Sylvie’s mother laughed, a shrill caustic thing that raised the fine hairs on the back of Sylvie’s neck. “Do you mean Trojan horse, idiota?” She stepped toward him, her hands on her narrow hips. “And where do you get off flinging accusations? You’re not part of this, Mauricio. Count yourself lucky that you’re not biologically related to a pack of traitors and shut up.”
Traitors. Frauds. Liars. Thieves. The misinformed allegations they’d tossed at each other for generations now made Sylvie want to puke.
“I chose this family, Barbara. And we all know it’s you people in the wrong here. Stop making a fool of yourself.”
Sylvie’s dad shot out of the Campos pack like an irate porcupine ready to spear Lauren’s uncle with a quill. “What the hell did you just say to my wife, jackass?”
“Dad! Please let’s all calm down! Stop insulting each other!” Sylvie’s pleas were drowned out by a barrage of slights and curses being lobbed in both directions.
“Seriously, Mauricio,” Sylvie’s aunt chimed in sounding more bored than angry. “Do you realize how stupid you sound talking about things you don’t understand?”
Bystanders started accumulating outside as the arguing intensified. The secret festering in Sylvie’s chest burned like acid reflux trying to escape her body through her throat.
Junior returned with the ladder, but it didn’t result in the cessation of hostilities. The fact that it was several feet too short to help them out of their predicament only made matters worse.
“It figures that you people can’t even solve the simplest of problems.” Lauren’s mother shook her head. “No wonder you had to steal our recipes. You would’ve never figured out how to do it on your own.”
“I don’t see you doing anything useful,” Sylvie’s mother countered as she bumped against her sworn enemy. “All you know how to do is run your stupid mouth while everyone else does the work.” She turned to her husband. “Manny, call the fire department.”
He walked away from the chaos with his phone to his ear. The situation was spiraling so far out of hand Sylvie could hardly process the mayhem.
“So you finally admit that its true?” Lauren’s mother looked around dramatically. “Did everyone hear that? She finally fessed up to being a thief!”
“The only thief here is you and you know it!”
The decades old argument sprung up between Carla Machado and Barbara Campos like they were singing their favorite song. They had the lyrics memorized and the rhythm down pat.
As Sylvie listened to the well-worn battle, the secret bubbled to the surface. She couldn’t contain it for another moment. They were tearing each other apart based on a lie.
Like a hammer smashing through a clay pot, the truth split Sylvie apart. “Enough! Both of you are right! I found out the truth, okay! We’re all freaking thieves!”
