Pepper’s Rules for Secret Sleuthing

Jacob sits on his front steps, tossing a baseball up and down. He stares at a patch of dry grass with a bored look in his eye before he spots me and perks up just a bit.

“What do you know about baseball?” he asks the second I step foot on his curb.

“I know that’s what you’re holding.”

He sighs, slumping against his front door. “My dad was supposed to practice with me today.”

I join him on the front step, drawing my knees in against my chest. “I thought you did martial arts.”

He rolls the ball between his palms. “I do. But baseball is my dad’s favorite sport, and I figured playing it with him would give me a leg up over his unborn infant daughter.”

I bump my shoulder against his. “You mean your sister.”

He groans. “Whatever.”

I crane my neck to glance through the house’s front window. “Where are your parents?”

Jacob tosses the baseball. It soars a few feet before rolling across the lawn. “They ditched me to go build their baby registry. As we speak they’re probably at Macy’s picking out pink onesies and wishing I hadn’t made them donate all of my old stuff.”

I want to find the right words to cheer my friend up, but what he’s going through is nothing I’ve ever experienced before. I have no idea what to say to make it right.

“Do you have anyone to talk to about all of this?” I ask. Mostly because I’m concerned and don’t know enough to support him as much as I want. But partly because I’m unsure of who to talk to about my own secret mystery.

He shrugs. “I’ve been seeing a gender therapist for a few years now, since I first told my parents I felt like-since I am a boy. And I have a sort-of community online.” He rolls the
ball over in his hands. “But a lot of the people I talk to know more about transitioning as an adult. They don’t have a lot of advice on being replaced by baby sisters.”

I place my chin on my knees, close so it muffles my voice. “If it makes you feel any better, my dad took off his ring and was flirting with Andrew’s tutor last night.”

“Why would that make me feel better?”

“I don’t know. Solidarity?” Jacob’s expression doesn’t change, so I switch to a diversion tactic. I withdraw my phone from my back pocket. “Anyway, I have a new clue. I overheard the landscaper and tutor arguing last night and was able to record the conversation. I waited so we could listen together.”

Jacob tries to hide a satisfied smile. “Let’s hear it.”

I pull up the audio file and press play. The recording starts halfway through Alanna speaking.

“-want you to contact me anymore.” Her voice is wobbly, like a loose floorboard. “This has to…it has to stop.”

The landscaper’s voice is gruff, but with a surprisingly soft edge. “You can’t act like this is just me. You can’t possibly blame it all on me.”

Alanna starts and stops about five sentences before she settles on, “I want to leave this behind me. I need to leave it behind me so I can move on.” She clears her throat, and when she speaks again, her tone is sterner. “You should do the same, Randy.”

The conversation trails off. The next thing I hear is Alanna’s voice in the distance when she spoke to me by the fountain.

I sense Jacob grow still beside me. His eyes flash, glaring across the cul-de-sac, and the muscles in his neck tighten.

“Did you hear a clue?” I ask, pressing stop.

He continues to stare straight ahead as he says, “Look who showed up.”

Rolling down the circle of pavement at a creepy five miles per hour is none other than the landscaping van. It slows to a halt outside Great-Aunt Florence’s gates in the same exact spot as the day before. The engine cuts off, but no one comes out.

I wrap my eyes around myself. “He chased me last night.”