The Babysitter Murders - By Janet Ruth Young Page 0,62
pretend that I want to imitate Meghan. I’m just going to leave my compliment out there. “It’s nice,” she says.
Meghan shrugs and moves away with a laugh. She starts hitting again, and the first few times she doesn’t turn her arm.
“I was in Philadelphia once,” Shelley says. “I was there on a family vacation to see the Liberty Bell and all that stuff. We sort of wandered into the wrong neighborhood, and there was a parade going on with a lot of same-sex couples. We saw two women holding hands. My parents pulled me away from there as soon as they could.
“That’s gross,” Meghan says, tossing the hair out of her eyes and getting ready to serve again.
Shelley stops playing. “I don’t think it’s gross. I think it’s brave.”
“You’re entitled to your own opinion.” She keeps swatting at the ball. Shelley’s ball has stopped, but she just stands there. “I can’t believe you would say that. If you think two women holding 278
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hands is gross, why are you in the Gay-Straight Alliance?”
“Because I’m straight!” Meghan doesn’t seem to know what Shelley is upset about. She taps the ball against the floor of the court. “It’s a social group for gay people and straight people.”
“But it’s technically a support group for gay people, not a support group for straight people.”
“It’s open to everybody,” Meghan says. “No group in the school is allowed to exclude anyone.”
Shelley resumes hitting. She focuses everything she has on the bright green ball and hits without stopping, twenty times without a bounce and thirty one times with a bounce before she breaks her rhythm. She wants to hide from Meghan right now, but if she keeps hitting like this she can pretend Meghan doesn’t exist.
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Shelley and Meghan walk halfway home together.
Meghan chatters about how well the concert went even though she forgot the words to “Old Cape Cod.” Shelley wonders if Meghan truly believes nothing’s wrong or if she’s talking too much to cover up.
“Do you know about the singers’ camp at Tanglewood, in the Berkshires?” Meghan asks. “You have to apply early, but they have these one-day master classes that usually have a few openings or cancellations.”
Shelley shifts her tennis bag on her shoulder. She’s carrying both rackets—her own and the one she brought for Meghan.
She wonders what Dani would have said about today. Would Dani have thought Meghan was right for her at all? Sometimes, when God closes a door, he opens a window. Then you jump out of it.
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Malcolm dresses in a blue short-sleeved shirt, navy pants, and black shoes. It looks pretty close to a uniform. He combs his hair back carefully, which makes him look older. He prints a batch of business cards with the POK website and his cell number, but no name.
He goes to 16 Dell Place.
Cynthia Draper opens the door in shorts and a cotton blouse.
His father was right; she’s attractive for a woman with kids. “You’re not a reporter, are you?” she says. “I’m not talking to reporters.”
“No, ma’am. I don’t want any information from you. I’m here to give you some information.”
“What’s that?”
“The group I’m with is an ALEA. Do you know what an ALEA is?”
“No I don’t,” she says.
“It’s an alternative law enforcement agency. As I said, I don’t want any information. I just want you to know that in the eventuality that you ever have trouble with Dani Solomon again, we would be the best people to call.”
Cynthia Draper is a cool customer. She looks at Malcolm and at the card without revealing either displeasure or relief. She takes the card and closes the door.
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Dr. Mandel called Dani’s hotel room and told her not to come up to the office. Instead they’ll meet downstairs on the sidewalk.
Dani wonders what the doctor will do next. Dr. Mandel’s theories are valid, Dani has made progress over two weeks of intensive sessions. Yesterday she held the knife and was hardly bothered by anxiety. She sees the elevator open. Dr. Mandel strides out in a spring coat, with her purse over her arm.
“Come with me,” says the doctor, turning Dani by the elbow onto Commonwealth Avenue. Mathilde is much shorter than Dani, but she motors along pretty well.
“Where are we going?”
“There are some experiences I can’t give you on my own,”
says Dr. Mandel. “For that we need other people.”
“Is it far?” Dani asks.
“No, it’s close.” The scent of roses and