The Babysitter Murders - By Janet Ruth Young Page 0,21
around Dani, a partial hug. “How do you like my advice? Did I answer your question?”
Dani can’t imagine talking about what’s really on her mind. “I guess,” she says.
“Are you resting enough? Have you been staying up too late?
Is there a boy? Who have you been texting lately?”
“There is someone,” Dani admits.
“Is he the one you’re worried about hurting?”
“That’s not what I meant,” Dani says. She goes to her room and puts something droney on the music player. For an hour the images persist: her mother, Alex, Mrs. Alex. It’s hopeless, she thinks.
It’s all hopeless. Then she squeezes her hands and thinks, But at least I’m not hurting anyone. Her hands part when she falls asleep.
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“You’re a really nice girl,” Gordy says. “I’m totally impressed with you.”
“I don’t know. Maybe not so nice.”
Gordy takes her hand. They practiced for a couple hours at his house before he suggested a walk in Havenswood. It’s a perfect May evening, and they’re going to climb a granite boulder called Shark’s Jaw to watch the sunset.
Dani’s house is big, but Gordy’s is bigger. His father has a dark green office with glass-fronted bookcases, photos of famous musician clients, and a collection of vinyl records. Gordy showed Dani his computer software that scans sheet music and plays the notes.
Gordy was at the computer and as she stood over him, she could barely resist kissing the top of his head. She’s wearing skinny dark-wash jeans, a white T-shirt with a sweetheart neck, and a pearl hair clip. He complimented her singing voice, her sightreading skills, and her positive attitude in the Hawtones, and he told her she was beautiful. Now on their walk to the boulder his hand feels strong and confident, like the hands of girl tennis players from other schools when Dani congratulates them after a match.
“So you’re not nice?” Gordy repeats. “In what way are you not nice? I know. You’re an ax murderer and you have bodies piled up in your basement.”
T H E B A B Y S I T T E R M U R D E R S
“Stop,” Dani says. Just when things were going so well. His joke opens a curtain on a scene: an ax, a basement, parts of Gordy beside other parts they shouldn’t be beside. She doesn’t want to have those thoughts. She’s enjoying the walk and doesn’t want to rush away. She wants to watch the sunset, not go home and will herself to sleep.
“Come on, tell me the bad news,” Gordy says, tugging her hand so she faces him. “Am I your next victim?”
“Knock it off. I mean it.” She drops his hand and walks ahead.
“Hey, come back. I’m sorry. I was kidding around. I know, it was gross.”
Dani turns around. “We don’t even have a basement.”
“All right, so let’s get back to you not being nice. Does that mean you’re nasty?”
“Cut it out.” This is better. She acts huffy but smiles.
“In what way are you nasty? Do you swear too much? Do you cut ahead of the lunch line? Are your library books overdue?”
“None of the above.”
Gordy catches up with her. “Press one for more options? I have it: You once stole a dollar from the tip cup at Dunkin’ Donuts! I guessed your secret.”
Dani squeezes her hands together. I’m not hurting anyone. She gazes at the top tree branches with their soft, green May buds and she breathes out like a smoker exhaling a long plume.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
“I guess I’m in a serious mood.”
They start walking again.
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“I know why you’re upset,” he says. “I should know better by now.”
“What do you mean?”
“The way I talk to girls sometimes. With the Starbucks and the library books. Like they’re so different from boys. Innocent.
Dainty. One girl I dated called me patronizing.”
“Forget it.”
“I wouldn’t patronize you, Dani.”
“Let’s be quiet for a while. Let’s enjoy the sounds of nature.”
Gordy listens. “The wind in the leaves, the birds,” he says.
“Do you think that’s where people got the idea of creating music, or do you think it came from somewhere else? I don’t usually talk this much. I don’t know what’s happening to me.”
Something runs parallel to them before burrowing into the leaves.
“Chipmunk,” Gordy says.
“Wow.”
“I wasn’t raised that way, you know.”
“What way?”
“To patronize girls. Neither of my parents tolerated sexism.
And my mom, my mom—”
What everyone in Hawthorne knows about Gordy is that his mom died after they moved to town. She was a lawyer too, like his dad. She signed Gordy up for school while