is a freshman day student this year. Raven. She follows in the family tradition of having a rat’s nest for hair. Hippies. Le gauche. You know, Bodhi would be semi-hot if he cut those rancid dreads off his head. Apparently he was some big science genius, but dropped out of MIT after the first year. No one knows why. He’s been slumming it back in Monte Vista at the pharmacy. Anyway, Bodhi comes in and asks for Hutch to come with him. Hutch says to me, ‘Here’s my Get Out Of Jail Free card. Good luck.’ And he walks out with Bodhi and never comes back. Untouched. God, that kid was untouchable. Until he wasn’t, I guess. C’est triste.”
Devon released her crushing grip on her notebook. “So you never found out who the test was for?”†
Cleo took a deep breath and leaned back. “Is this session about me or Hutch?”
“About you, of course,” Devon said, trying to recover from her misstep. “I just want to understand why you’re the only one that got in trouble. How did they know you were shoplifting?”
Cleo shrugged. “Manager claims he saw me in the overhead mirror. We had a little chat in his office and he let me off with a warning. Said he wouldn’t press charges but was going to tell the school. I told him I was troubled, bullied, unsure of my sexuality … you know the type of caring adult. Anything to help the troubled youth. So then Wyler sent me to you. Required therapy. And voilà, here I am.”
Devon folded her hands in her lap.
Cleo tugged at her Burberry boots. “You’d think for $500 bucks these things could at least guarantee no blisters, huh?” She didn’t seem to be interested whether Devon answered her or not. She was killing time here because she had to. Devon was background music to her; the piano player in a mall you might walk past, but would never consider an actual musician.
“Do you think you’re troubled? I mean, if you said that to the pharmacy manager, do you think there’s an element of truth to it?” Devon asked.
Cleo lifted her gaze from her boots. “How much training have you actually had?” Devon hated this question. Mainly because her own answer made her cringe. Not very much. “Does it matter?” she finally asked.
“Yes, because, we’re not exactly BFF, n’est-ce pas? I started here last year, we’ve never been roommates, never taken a weekend away together, never laughed over a crush on a hot guy, so, remind me … why the hell would I tell you anything?”
“You don’t have to tell me anything. You’re just required to be here for five sessions. What we talk about is up to you,” Devon said.
Cleo shrugged. Her face softened the slightest bit. “Tres bien.”
Devon placed her notebook and pen on the floor. Maybe that would be less threatening. Just keep Cleo talking; that was the bare minimum she could accomplish. “So, what do you want to talk about?
“I wanna know who that pregnancy test was for,” Cleo responded immediately. “Hutch and Isla broke up this summer. Maybe that changed and they hooked up again. If not, there’s a mystery lady we don’t know about. A black widow so to speak. A femme fatale who will do anything to protect her secret. All I know is: Some girl who’s too scared to get her own test is walking around wondering if she’s pregnant with a dead guy’s baby. Don’t you want to know who that could be? I’d kill to know who it is.” Cleo was leaning forward now, drawing Devon into her gossip circle once again—eyes wide enough so that Devon could see the smoky blue color behind the layer of black eyeliner.
Devon could only nod. Her heart raced. A secret pregnant girl on campus? Not Isla. Hutch had written her off. Did Matt know? No, because if he did know Hutch was sleeping with someone else, why would he mention Hutch’s plan to take Devon to prom? And then there was Hutch himself. When Devon saw him that first day of school he hadn’t acted like someone who was hiding a terrible secret or hanging out with a girl on the side. She hadn’t even gotten the “memo” about Isla. But, Devon had to admit, he also didn’t act like someone who was about to commit suicide the next day either. Happy, flirty, planning ahead. Devon couldn’t shake the thought: A black widow. Hutch may be gone, but