The Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires - Grady Hendrix Page 0,97

“Rufus is a dog,” Blue said. “People die every day. People abort little babies. Six million people died in the Holocaust. No one cares. It’s just a dumb dog. They’ll wash it off.”

“Everyone needs to take a breath,” Carter said, palms out in the calming gesture to Blue. “Next week you and I are going to sit down and I’m going to give you a test called a Conners Scale. It’s just to determine if paying attention is harder for you than it is for other people.”

“So what?” Blue asked.

“If it is,” Carter explained, “then we give you something called Ritalin. I’m sure a lot of your friends take it. It doesn’t change anything about you, it’s just like eyeglasses for your brain.”

“I don’t want eyeglasses for my brain!” Blue screamed. “I’m not taking a test!”

Ragtag lifted his head. Patricia wanted to stop this. Carter hadn’t talked about this with her before. This was the kind of decision they needed to make together.

“That’s why you’re the child and I’m the adult,” Carter said. “I know what you need better than you do.”

“No, you don’t!” Blue screamed again.

“I think we should all take a few minutes,” Carter said. “We can talk again after supper.”

He guided Patricia out of the room by one elbow. She looked back at Blue, hunched over his desk, shoulders shaking, and she wanted to go to him so badly she felt it in her blood, but Carter steered her into the hall and closed the door behind them.

“He’s never—” Carter began.

“Why’s he screaming?” Korey asked, practically leaping out at them from her bedroom door. “What’d he do?”

“This has nothing to do with you,” Carter said.

“I just thought you’d want the opinion of someone who actually sees him sometimes,” Korey said.

“When we want your opinion we’ll ask for it,” Carter said.

“Fine!” Korey snapped, slamming her bedroom door. It smacked sharply into its frame. From behind it came a muffled, “Whatever.”

Korey had been so easy for so many years, going to step aerobics after school, staying out on Wednesday nights to watch Beverly Hills, 90210 with the same group of girls from her soccer team, going to Princeton soccer camp in the summer. But this fall she’d started spending more and more time in her room with the door closed. She’d stopped going out and seeing her friends. Her moods ranged from virtually comatose to explosive rage, and Patricia didn’t know what set her off.

Carter told her he saw it all the time in his practice: it was her junior year, the SATs were coming, she had to apply for colleges, Patricia shouldn’t worry, Patricia didn’t understand, Patricia should read some articles about college stress he’d give her if she felt concerned.

Behind Korey’s door, the music got louder.

“I need to finish cleaning the kitchen,” Patricia said.

“I’m not going to take the blame for the way he’s acting,” Carter said, following Patricia down the stairs. “He has zero self-control. You’re supposed to be teaching him how to handle his emotions.”

He followed Patricia into the den. Her hands ached to hold a vacuum cleaner, to have its roar blot out everyone’s voices, to make it all go away. She didn’t want to think about Blue acting out because she knew it was her fault. His behavior had changed from the minute he found her on the kitchen floor. Carter followed her into the kitchen. She could hear Korey’s music coming through the ceiling, all muffled harmonicas and guitars.

“He’s never acted like this before,” Carter said.

“Maybe you’re just not around him enough,” Patricia said.

“If you knew things were this bad, why didn’t you say something before?” he asked.

Patricia didn’t have an answer. She stood in the middle of the kitchen and looked around. She’d been measuring it for the remodel when school called for her to come see Major about Blue and Tiger spray-painting that dog, and there was so much in the cabinets they needed to throw out: the row of cookbooks she never used, the ice cream maker still in its box. The air popper