Chapter Thirty-Two Piper
Chapter Thirty-Two
Piper
Piper’s hand flew to her mouth as she bit back a scream. Her toes curled in her shoes as a wriggling, writhing mass of live worms undulated inside the box.
Piper jumped back from the counter as the girls trooped into the kitchen.
“Mom. Are you okay?” Caitlin asked, peering at her mom.
“Did you cut yourself on the mandolin again?” Olivia asked.
“I’m . . . I’m fine.” Piper took a steadying breath. She had to stay calm, for the girls. “I just . . . um. I think we got a delivery intended for someone else.”
They all turned to stare at the box on the kitchen counter.
“What is it?” Caitlin whispered.
Piper swallowed. “Worms.”
Olivia, always the most excitable of her three children, began to dance up and down on her toes, shrieking. “Where? Where? I hate worms!”
“Calm down,” Piper hissed. “They’re contained.”
“Are you going to return them?” Bella asked. “Like when we order tap shoes and they’re too small?”
“That’s a good idea.” Piper forced a smile. “You girls go back down to the basement and keep watching your movie. I’m going to call the company now and ask them to come and pick up their worms.”
“Can I see them first?” Bella asked. She had a higher tolerance for squeamish things than her sisters did.
“All right.”
They all moved slowly toward the island. Bella climbed onto a counter stool and looked down into the belly of the beast, or the box as it were.
“Ew . . . they’re alive . . .” she said, wrinkling her nose. “They’re moving.”
Piper shuddered and forced herself to look inside the box again. Her skin began to crawl as she gazed down at a container filled with hundreds of small, plump yellow worms.
“Okay. That’s it. Show’s over. Go back to your movie. I’ll handle our . . . delivery.”
She glanced at the paper that had come with the box and found a customer-service number for Pet Lovers’ Depot, purveyor of live insects for birds, chickens, geckos, and other exotic pets.
After waiting on hold for ten minutes, a real live human customer-service representative named Angel came on the line.
Piper explained what had happened. Angel asked her to spell her first and last names, followed by her address.
“That’s weird,” Angel said. “Your address is correct. I mean, your address is the shipping address we have on file.”
“But I never ordered this,” Piper said.
“Would you mind giving me the last four digits of your credit card?”
Piper complied and heard the clatter of a keyboard on the other end of the line.
“Hmm. We have a different credit card on file. So it’s your name and address, but someone else’s credit card.”
A sick feeling settled over Piper, like she’d eaten something bad, bad like a box of mealworms.
“Angel, can you give me the name attached to the credit card you have on file?” she asked.
“I’m really sorry, but I can’t. I’m not allowed to share credit card information.”
Damn. Of course she couldn’t.
“Listen, could you do me a favor?”
“Sure,” Angel said cheerfully.
“If anyone tries to have something sent to this address again, can you call us first to verify before shipping?”
There was a pause. Then Angel said, “You think it’s a prank?”
“I do.”
“That does happen sometimes,” she conceded with a sigh. “Given the nature of our products.”
“I understand, and I appreciate your help,” Piper said.
“You can return them, though,” Angel said helpfully. “Just drop them off at your nearest Pet Lovers’ Depot.”
“I’ll do that right now. Thanks for your help, Angel.”
She hung up the phone and rubbed her hands over her face.
This had to be Hawkeye Slaughter. Middle school boys didn’t have credit cards.
She heard a sound and looked over to find Bella standing in the corner, staring at her with big brown eyes.
“Mommy.”
“Yes, honey?”
“The worms are scary.”
“Well, they’re kind of yucky, but they can’t hurt you.”
“But Mommy, what if robbers sent them? Or that mean boy from Caitlin’s class?”
She pulled her daughter into a hug and kissed the top of her head. “Robbers and mean boys steal things. They don’t give people things, right?”
“Right,” Bella admitted. “But who wants a box of worms?”
“Lots of people. You know those neighbors a couple houses down, the ones with the little girls a few years younger than you?”
Bella nodded.
“Well. I’ve heard they have a chicken coop in their backyard. I’ll bet this delivery was meant for them.”
“You think so?” Bella asked.
“I do, because chickens love to eat worms. Mealworms are like . . . gummy bears for chickens. I’ll bet that’s what happened.”
“So they sent the worms so the chickens can eat gummy bears. Instead of being robbers?”
She nodded. It was a convoluted explanation, but it seemed to make her daughter feel better.
“And guess what little girls like to eat?”
“What?” she asked, sticking her fingers in her mouth, despite the ten million times she’d been asked not to do this.
“Ice cream. How about we drop these worms off at Pet Lovers’ Depot and then get some ice cream?”
“Guys, we’re getting ice cream!” Bella screamed as she ran down the stairs to deliver this glorious news to her sisters in the basement.
Piper taped up the box, mouth set in a grim line. Hawkeye Slaughter’s post from this morning glowed inside her mind like a neon sign.
First person up against the wall with a bullet in her head: Piper Mondello #FascistsMustDie