Elena?” Ruby Jo says.
No. Yes. I have no idea. “Sure. Fine.”
Click. Click. Click.
“Lissa? What is it with you and that pen?” I say finally.
She grins at me, and the grin takes twenty-five years off her face. “It’s a camera, honey. I used to be a teacher until I retired,” she says. “History. Now I work as a reporter. Freelance, but it keeps me busy. The only question is how I’m going to get enough credible information to expose these assholes. Well, make that two questions. I don’t know how I’ll get that information out of here without a phone. Tricky. What else did you see in his apartment?” Her tone is sharp, and she softens it. “Sorry, I can’t help being brusque when I’m in reporter mode.”
I shrug and think back to the sights and smells. “Coffee. Good Scotch. A pipe on one of the shelves, tucked back behind something else.”
“That’s all?”
“Oh—when I was leaving, his phone rang. The lock screen had a shot of him with a woman and two boys. She seemed familiar. I don’t know—the way she stood or something.” I try like hell to conjure it up in the space before my eyes, but I can’t; it happened too quickly. “She was wearing a hat. That’s all I saw before I got the hell out of there. He’s married, but he was coming on strong.”
Lissa’s eyebrows waggle up and down and up once, and stay high on her forehead.
“Told you I didn’t like him,” Ruby Jo says.
What matters, according to Lissa, isn’t that any of us like or don’t like Alex. What matters is that he seems to like me.
Two sets of eyes are on mine now, reminding me of a childhood playground game. In Ruby Jo’s and Lissa’s stares, I hear three words.
Tag. You’re it.
FIFTY-TWO
We leave for lunch, filing in past the lines of children walking into the dining hall. I stay close enough to them to brush my hand against Freddie and whisper, “It’s going to be all right, baby girl. Trust me.” Freddie looks up with wide, frightened eyes, and I wonder if she can hear the uncertainty in my voice.
The next-to-last girl in line turns hard, accusing eyes at me. I recognize her as Sabrina Fox, the girl whose mother was practically dragging her into a car, insisting they go home at the same time Sabrina insisted the opposite. She nudges the girl next to her. They’re close enough that I can hear Judy Green’s words spoken so softly they sound like sighs.
“It’s her fault. She’s a monster. And you know I should have crushed that test last week.”
Judy and Sabrina continue to whisper. I get every poisonous syllable they say.
Only a week ago, I watched Judy’s mother, Sarah, pull yellow flowers from the beds in front of their house. I don’t want to revisit that place, but not wanting to isn’t enough to prevent me from going there, from hearing Sarah scream at me while a yellow bus took her daughter away.
Every single report we got said her Q was almost perfect.
Did you know something? Did you hold anything back from me?
How did she lose the Q points? Tell me that, El.
I guess you’ll have more time for your top two percent now, El. Good luck with them.
And a few days after that, Jolene Fox blowing smoke in my face, calling Malcolm an asshole, wondering why her girl dropped from a silver school to here in the blink of an eye.
Now I’m back in the dining hall listening to the girls, wishing I could stop my ears. Did I know something? No, I didn’t.
When I pass close to Judy, she stares hard into my eyes. “You should have studied history, you bitch. Don’t you know it repeats itself?”
“What did you say?”
“You heard me.”
Sabrina mumbles something about Judy not being herself. “She’s sorry. Really.” Judy doesn’t seem to agree, but lets Sabrina lead her by the arm and pull her gently along to one of the long tables, out of earshot.