I Knocked His Cake To The Floor While He Screamed At Me To Explain

He didn't tell her we were leaving.

That morning my brother came downstairs in jeans and a gray T-shirt instead of his suit, and he told her he had to run me to the drugstore for allergy medicine. She was sitting at the kitchen table in her dark green dress from the party, except now she had a sweater over it. She smiled at him like everything was normal again.

"Want me to come?" she asked.

He shook his head. "It's quick. Stay and rest."

I could tell she wanted to argue. Her eyes went to me, then to his pocket where my phone was. He'd kept it since the party. I hadn't asked for it back.

In the car he didn't turn on music. That was weird for him. He always turned it on. He backed out of our driveway with both hands tight on the wheel and checked the mirror twice like he thought she was watching from the window.

"Are we really getting medicine?" I asked.

He glanced at me. "No."

My stomach squeezed. I held my seat belt with both hands. "Where are we going?"

"To see Dale," he said. "He works the pharmacy counter over on Main. I went to school with him."

I nodded. I remembered Dale. He had a buzz cut and always gave out suckers even if you weren't sick.

"You brought the video?" I whispered.

He patted his pocket. "Yeah. And I got a piece of that cake in a bag in the trunk. I didn't eat any of it."

I breathed out slow. The air in the car felt too warm even with the vents on.

The pharmacy smelled like cleaner and old carpet. The lights buzzed overhead. Dale was behind the counter in a white coat, scanning boxes. When he saw my brother, his face lit up.

"No way," Dale said. "You clean up nice on the internet. Saw the party pics."

My brother didn't smile. "Can we talk in back for a minute? It's private."

Dale looked at me, then at him, and his smile faded. "Yeah. Give me a sec."

He led us past the shelves into a little room with a sink and a metal table. There were bottles everywhere. My brother shut the door and pulled out my phone in the purple case. His hand wasn't steady.

"I need you to look at something," he said. "And you can't tell anyone I showed you. Not yet."

Dale crossed his arms. "Okay."

My brother pressed play. I had seen that video so many times I didn't need to look. I stared at the floor instead, at the gray tiles, and listened to the little sound the bowl made in the video when she poured.

Dale leaned in. "Run that back."

My brother did. Dale watched it three times. Then he asked, "What was in the vial?"

"She said it was vanilla flavoring," my brother said. "Like baking stuff."

Dale frowned. "That bottle doesn't look like any flavoring we carry. Flavoring bottles are brown glass with droppers, or the little clear ones from the grocery aisle. That thing in her hand — that's got a white cap and a skinny neck. Looks more like those sample vials. Or essential oil. Or —" He stopped himself.

"Or what?" my brother asked. His voice was low.

Dale shook his head. "I can't say from a phone video. But I can tell you it's not bakery vanilla. I'd bet on that."

I felt my throat get tight. I wanted to say I told you so, but I didn't. I just looked at my brother.

He pulled a zip bag from his jacket pocket. Inside was a smashed chunk of white cake with blue and orange frosting smeared on the plastic. "Can you test this?" he asked.

Dale took a step back and put his hands up. "No. No way. I can't run that here. That's not what we do, and if I open that bag I mess it up for anyone who can."

My brother stared at him. "So what do I do?"

Dale's voice got serious. "You don't eat it. Nobody eats it. You keep that bag closed and cold. You keep that video saved in two places, not just that phone. And if you think someone put something in that batter on purpose, you call the clinic or the sheriff and let them send it to a real lab. Don't try to figure it out yourself."

The room was quiet except for the hum of a little fridge in the corner. My hands were sweating.

"Is my brother in trouble?" I asked before I could stop myself.

Dale looked at me kind. "You're the one who filmed it?"

I nodded.

"Then you did good," he said. "Most people wouldn't have thought that fast."

My brother put his hand on my shoulder. It was heavy. He wasn't mad, but he wasn't relaxed either. "Thanks, man," he said to Dale. "Please don't mention this."

"I won't," Dale said. "But don't wait too long. Stuff like this gets harder, not easier."

In the parking lot my brother sat in the car for a minute without starting it. The bag with the cake was on the back seat. My phone was in the cup holder between us. He stared through the windshield at the highway.

"Was she lying?" I asked quietly.

He breathed in through his nose. "The bottle doesn't match. That's all we know right now."

"But you believe me now, right?"

He looked at me then, really looked. His eyes were red around the edges. "I believe something was in that bowl that shouldn't have been. I just don't know why yet. And why matters."

I nodded. That wasn't a yes, but it wasn't a no like before.

When we pulled into our driveway, she was waiting on the front steps. She stood up fast and tried to smile.

"Everything okay?" she called.

My brother got out and his face changed. It went flat and polite, the way grown-ups look at church when they don't want to talk. "Fine," he said. "Just allergies."

He walked past her to the door and didn't touch her shoulder like he usually did. She noticed. I saw her eyes follow his hand and then drop to the ground.

She looked at me. "Did you get your medicine?"

I swallowed. "Yeah."

It was a lie and I hated saying it. But my brother had told me in the car not to talk about Dale until he decided what to do. I kept my eyes down and went inside fast.

Behind me I heard her ask him, "Are you mad at me?"