THE PHOTO TRAVELER (THE PHOTO TRAVELER SERIES - BOOK 1)

CHAPTER 19

      I spot a stack of photo albums on a side table and riffle through them as fast as I can, hoping that Mario won’t come clattering back up the stairs. I pull three photos of Alanna from a Mickey Mouse album and stuff them in my back pocket. My heart’s in my throat. What if Mario catches me? Or, even worse, Delva? But for some reason I can’t bring myself to put the albums down. My hands keep flipping the pages as if out of a conscious desire to keep showing me more. I can’t stop looking at her.

      Delva’s voice drifting up from downstairs snaps me out of my trance. I toss the album on top of the stack, scurry to the door—and barge right into Mario. I jump back. “Argh! Dammit! You scared me!”

      “Dude, what’re are you doing in here?” He looks upset, almost annoyed. “My aunt and uncle don’t like anyone in this room.”

      “I’m sorry!” I start stumbling through an apology. “I didn’t mean to impose! I just... I guess I was just curious to see what the room looked like. Since you said they hadn’t ever changed anything...” I stare down at the rug like a puppy who knows it has screwed up and cowers with its tail between its legs. I’m mortified that he’s caught me. He probably thinks I’m the world’s biggest creep.

      “It’s okay. It’s not that big of a deal. My aunt and uncle aren’t here anyways. I’m just giving you the heads up. This room’s off-limits. They’re really overprotective about it. So’s Delva.” He shuts the door behind us and the change the subject as if nothing had happened. “Hungry?”

* * *

After several more hours of work and another pizza from “Shelly,” we finish our project. We each take an end of the necklace of images and stretch it across the room.

      “Now all we’ve gotta do is come up with a sweet explanation of what it symbolizes... blah… blah… blah. This was cake. Easy A, don’tcha think?” Mario asks, smiling goofily.

      I nod, but only because I see him grinning, and nodding is what I do by by default when I haven’t really heard what someone’s said to me. All of my thoughts are on Alanna. I couldn’t care less about the project right now, or about anything else for that matter. All I’m seeing are her eyes. Her lips. How everything about her is so perfect. The way her pictures speak to me every time I look at them. Almost like a Siren calling out to me.

      “I’m taking Gavin to the Metro!” Mario hollers to Delva as we reach the front door. “I’ll be right back!”

      “Bye, Delva!” I chime in as I slip outside. “Nice to meet you!”

* * *

When I get home, I’m so impatient to get to my room that I drop my keys as I reach the porch. “Come on!” I mutter as I stoop to pick them up. “Come on...!”

      But as I rush through the living room, I trip over my feet and slam to the floor. Estelle and Bud are cuddled under a plaid comforter watching TV.

      “Whoa!” Estelle exclaims. “Slow down, sweetie! What’s the rush?”

      I spring up and sprint past them. “I’m gonna be upstairs. Need to take care of something—”

      “Have you even eaten?” she persists.

      “Pizza.”

      “Pizza’s not real food,” she counters.

      “This was g-o-o-o-o-d pizza!” I laugh. “But not better than I’m sure yours would be, though. Hey, Bud, how’re you feeling today?”