[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
never understand. But Kyle was a clean slate, without
preconceived ideas of who she had become. How could
he accuse her of changing if he hadn t known who she d
been before? He was perfect, like a white sheet of paper,
or untrod snow.
She took a deep, wavering breath, then closed her eyes
and began, I want to tell you about my mother. . . .
193
C h a p t e r F o u r t e e n
T HE BA R AT the Grand was made of heavy mahogany,
and behind it stood a mirror that spanned the length of
the wall. Above the mirror were three carved arches, the
middle one larger, the side arches smaller, like a triptych,
Cameryn thought. She wiped down the surface of the
bar, and as she did so she caught a glimpse of her face
in the mirror. What she saw surprised her: The girl with
the hollowed cheeks and large, dark eyes was smiling.
Actually smiling.
It still amazed her. Three days had passed since the
funeral, and there was a grin on her face. She had a
paper due on Monday and still she beamed. Because
when she was with Kyle, she was full up, as though she
were a helium balloon that couldn t hold another blast
from the canister or she would pop. After being empty for
so long, it felt marvelous.
194
That night, in the stairwell of the church, she had told
Kyle everything, and he had understood her, promised to
help her, said that he was there for her. Never before had
she been able to share so much of her life so freely. He
asked about her mammaw and her father and what she
knew about Hannah, then surprised her by telling her
she d done the exact right thing. Some problems have
to be sorted out in your own mind before you let anyone
else tell you what to think. You were smart to keep things
quiet, he d told her. Wait and see what she s like before
you go and blow your world apart.
Kyle even wanted to know everything about forensics,
which thrilled her, too. He wasn t appalled or squeamish
at the fact that her hands had been inside Mr. Oakes, or
over the truth that she had held her teacher s heart and
weighed his liver on a stainless steel scale. When she d
told him that, he d traced his finger across her palm,
saying, It s sort of mystical. It s like, when you held his
brain, you held Brad s thoughts in your hands.
Then came the biggest surprise of all. He d said, I m
rethinking my plans for college. Maybe I should go into
forensics with you. Once again she noticed the flecks in
his eyes, shimmering like bits of light. Can you imagine
what two forensic pathologists would be like together?
You and me, Cammie. A forensic team. We d rock.
It was the word together that had her humming. Now,
as she cleaned the Grand, she let it roll on her tongue
while she repeated it softly. Together, she whispered
195
aloud. And as she did, she looked at the picture of the
voluptuous, turn-of-the-century woman hanging over
the antique player piano. Pausing, she studied the face,
with its sly grin. You re thinking of someone, too, aren t
you? Cameryn mused. The woman, with her enormous
thighs, round belly, and hint of a double chin beneath
a heart-shaped face, was beautiful. Reclining on a bed
of grass, one arm lifted to the sky, the woman seemed
to be reaching for something just beyond her fingertips.
Cameryn thought she understood this because she, too,
had been reaching. But unlike the woman in the paint
ing, she had grasped her prize.
Cameryn turned to the microwave behind the bar and
began to scrub this, too. Her boss had warmed a cheese
sauce, which had exploded, leaving a confetti pattern
of cheddar inside. As she wiped it away, her thoughts
turned to Lyric. Guiltily, she had chosen not to deal with
the strain that began the night of the funeral. Or rather,
Lyric had chosen. Lyric hadn t called, and Cameryn, tak
ing the cue that her friend was still upset, decided to let
things cool off before pressing. Besides, all her energy
had been redirected to Kyle. Everything else was a dis
traction.
Out of the coroner of her eye she saw a shadow pass
the Grand s window. Don t come in here! she thought. In
ten more minutes she would be off her shift. The front
section was empty, and there were only two families and
196
a gaggle of old-timers in the back, ticketed and ready to
go. Monica was already in the kitchen, preparing to
take over, chatting with the Ukrainian cook while she
waited. Cameryn hated to start a new table at the end
of a shift. But sure enough, at that moment the bell on
the door jingled, and she looked up to see not a cus
tomer but Justin, this time in Timberline boots and a
blue flannel shirt. He carried a large manila folder in
his hand.
I ve got news, he said, waving the envelope through
the air. The fingerprints came back. He walked to the
bar but stopped, squinting at her. You look different.
Cameryn sighed as she folded her dishcloth. Don t
start, Justin.
No, I meant it in a good way. You look . . . happy.
Uncharacteristically happy.
Well, she said, I am.
Really.
Justin raked back his hair, exposing a forehead that
was almost a shade lighter than his cheeks. His feet
had been planted far apart; she thought he looked
more like a lumberjack than a deputy. Is it because
you re with Kyle O Neil? he asked.
Not knowing what to say, she began to scrub the bar
with her towel, the same section she had already wiped
down. Finally, she answered, News travels fast.
Then it s true?
197
More scrubbing. Uh-huh.
She raised her eyes. Justin s brow had furrowed, and
his lips had pressed thin.
So when we were in Oakes s home and I was trying
to talk to you about . . . The words seemed to die in his
throat. Was he the reason?
Hesitant, she nodded. Kyle and I we have a lot in
common, Cameryn answered, folding the towel into a
smaller and smaller square. She was not liking this con
versation.
Justin stood rooted, not saying a word.
She tried again. Kyle s he s in my grade at school.
We re both seniors.
Walking the last few feet, Justin didn t stop until he
was directly in front of her, his green-blue eyes intense.
Cameryn had stopped folding the cloth because the
square was as small as it could go. Her hand clutching
the rag was completely still, as though the power from
her arm had been shut off. She swallowed, realizing her
mouth was very dry.
Justin, she began, you and me you know we re bet
ter off as friends. We work together and things could
get . . . the thing is, you can never have too many friends.
Right?
A beat, and then, Right.
She waited for him to say something more. He didn t. So
if you think I m right then why are you glaring at me?
198
I m not glaring. I m thinking.
About what?
I don t know. Maybe that a true friend would ask you
some hard questions. Like, what are you doing with this [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl chiara76.opx.pl
never understand. But Kyle was a clean slate, without
preconceived ideas of who she had become. How could
he accuse her of changing if he hadn t known who she d
been before? He was perfect, like a white sheet of paper,
or untrod snow.
She took a deep, wavering breath, then closed her eyes
and began, I want to tell you about my mother. . . .
193
C h a p t e r F o u r t e e n
T HE BA R AT the Grand was made of heavy mahogany,
and behind it stood a mirror that spanned the length of
the wall. Above the mirror were three carved arches, the
middle one larger, the side arches smaller, like a triptych,
Cameryn thought. She wiped down the surface of the
bar, and as she did so she caught a glimpse of her face
in the mirror. What she saw surprised her: The girl with
the hollowed cheeks and large, dark eyes was smiling.
Actually smiling.
It still amazed her. Three days had passed since the
funeral, and there was a grin on her face. She had a
paper due on Monday and still she beamed. Because
when she was with Kyle, she was full up, as though she
were a helium balloon that couldn t hold another blast
from the canister or she would pop. After being empty for
so long, it felt marvelous.
194
That night, in the stairwell of the church, she had told
Kyle everything, and he had understood her, promised to
help her, said that he was there for her. Never before had
she been able to share so much of her life so freely. He
asked about her mammaw and her father and what she
knew about Hannah, then surprised her by telling her
she d done the exact right thing. Some problems have
to be sorted out in your own mind before you let anyone
else tell you what to think. You were smart to keep things
quiet, he d told her. Wait and see what she s like before
you go and blow your world apart.
Kyle even wanted to know everything about forensics,
which thrilled her, too. He wasn t appalled or squeamish
at the fact that her hands had been inside Mr. Oakes, or
over the truth that she had held her teacher s heart and
weighed his liver on a stainless steel scale. When she d
told him that, he d traced his finger across her palm,
saying, It s sort of mystical. It s like, when you held his
brain, you held Brad s thoughts in your hands.
Then came the biggest surprise of all. He d said, I m
rethinking my plans for college. Maybe I should go into
forensics with you. Once again she noticed the flecks in
his eyes, shimmering like bits of light. Can you imagine
what two forensic pathologists would be like together?
You and me, Cammie. A forensic team. We d rock.
It was the word together that had her humming. Now,
as she cleaned the Grand, she let it roll on her tongue
while she repeated it softly. Together, she whispered
195
aloud. And as she did, she looked at the picture of the
voluptuous, turn-of-the-century woman hanging over
the antique player piano. Pausing, she studied the face,
with its sly grin. You re thinking of someone, too, aren t
you? Cameryn mused. The woman, with her enormous
thighs, round belly, and hint of a double chin beneath
a heart-shaped face, was beautiful. Reclining on a bed
of grass, one arm lifted to the sky, the woman seemed
to be reaching for something just beyond her fingertips.
Cameryn thought she understood this because she, too,
had been reaching. But unlike the woman in the paint
ing, she had grasped her prize.
Cameryn turned to the microwave behind the bar and
began to scrub this, too. Her boss had warmed a cheese
sauce, which had exploded, leaving a confetti pattern
of cheddar inside. As she wiped it away, her thoughts
turned to Lyric. Guiltily, she had chosen not to deal with
the strain that began the night of the funeral. Or rather,
Lyric had chosen. Lyric hadn t called, and Cameryn, tak
ing the cue that her friend was still upset, decided to let
things cool off before pressing. Besides, all her energy
had been redirected to Kyle. Everything else was a dis
traction.
Out of the coroner of her eye she saw a shadow pass
the Grand s window. Don t come in here! she thought. In
ten more minutes she would be off her shift. The front
section was empty, and there were only two families and
196
a gaggle of old-timers in the back, ticketed and ready to
go. Monica was already in the kitchen, preparing to
take over, chatting with the Ukrainian cook while she
waited. Cameryn hated to start a new table at the end
of a shift. But sure enough, at that moment the bell on
the door jingled, and she looked up to see not a cus
tomer but Justin, this time in Timberline boots and a
blue flannel shirt. He carried a large manila folder in
his hand.
I ve got news, he said, waving the envelope through
the air. The fingerprints came back. He walked to the
bar but stopped, squinting at her. You look different.
Cameryn sighed as she folded her dishcloth. Don t
start, Justin.
No, I meant it in a good way. You look . . . happy.
Uncharacteristically happy.
Well, she said, I am.
Really.
Justin raked back his hair, exposing a forehead that
was almost a shade lighter than his cheeks. His feet
had been planted far apart; she thought he looked
more like a lumberjack than a deputy. Is it because
you re with Kyle O Neil? he asked.
Not knowing what to say, she began to scrub the bar
with her towel, the same section she had already wiped
down. Finally, she answered, News travels fast.
Then it s true?
197
More scrubbing. Uh-huh.
She raised her eyes. Justin s brow had furrowed, and
his lips had pressed thin.
So when we were in Oakes s home and I was trying
to talk to you about . . . The words seemed to die in his
throat. Was he the reason?
Hesitant, she nodded. Kyle and I we have a lot in
common, Cameryn answered, folding the towel into a
smaller and smaller square. She was not liking this con
versation.
Justin stood rooted, not saying a word.
She tried again. Kyle s he s in my grade at school.
We re both seniors.
Walking the last few feet, Justin didn t stop until he
was directly in front of her, his green-blue eyes intense.
Cameryn had stopped folding the cloth because the
square was as small as it could go. Her hand clutching
the rag was completely still, as though the power from
her arm had been shut off. She swallowed, realizing her
mouth was very dry.
Justin, she began, you and me you know we re bet
ter off as friends. We work together and things could
get . . . the thing is, you can never have too many friends.
Right?
A beat, and then, Right.
She waited for him to say something more. He didn t. So
if you think I m right then why are you glaring at me?
198
I m not glaring. I m thinking.
About what?
I don t know. Maybe that a true friend would ask you
some hard questions. Like, what are you doing with this [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]