kids, jocks — ”
“ That's not a hit list, then,” Val said. “I mean, it's creepy but it's not like he was actually seriously considering — ”
“ The cheerleaders would probably be the first to perish,” Lisa said, “Because, despite their natural athleticism, they have never known what it is like to truly need to run. That's a direct quote. His essay's on the wall of my classroom. I read part of it — and had to stop.”
“ I've read parts of it, too,” Lindsay said, nodding. “He said the most likely to survive would be one of the shy, quiet kids that nobody suspects because his or her 'apparent weakness' would cause them to be underestimated, thereby increasing his or her chance to use one of their natural advantages.”
“ What on earth renewed your interest in that psychopath?” Lisa wanted to know. “Because I thought we had already gone over this. Did he say something to you?”
“ — exquisite,” Rachel said in an undertone. Lindsay punched her in the arm.
Val wished she had something cold to put on her face. It was burning like a candle.
“ Oh my God, Val,” Lisa groaned. “He is going to chew you up and spit you out.”
“ Maybe not spit her out,” Rachel said, with a leer. “Not if he likes the taste of her.”
Lindsay punched her again, harder.
“ Ow! Not with the lacrosse arm. That freaking hurt!”
Lisa glared at the two of them. “Val, whether you believe me or not, he will hurt you. I do not want to watch that happen.”
“ Hey, maybe he's a really nice guy,” Rachel said, taking pity on Val's distraught expression. “I mean, Stephen King is apparently a doll and look at all the messed-up shit he writes.”
But Gavin isn't nice , Val thought in despair. He said so himself .
She felt as if she were right smack in the face of all public scrutiny — that's the girl who likes Hit List Guy — and it was like being trapped in a room without doors.
▪▫▪▫▪▫▪
When Mrs. Kimble asked, “How was school, Val?” she was a little alarmed when her normally chatty daughter responded with a grunt. “Did you have a bad day?”
“ Meh,” said Val.
“ Meh?”
“ High school is dumb.” Val scrunched up her face. “Everyone is so — so shallow .”
“ Oh, Val. You say that like it's such a novel observation. High school hasn't changed much since I was a girl, and I imagine that it's been pretty much the same since public schools first began.”
“ It's still dumb.”
“ Many things in the world are, and we can't do a thing about ninety-nine-percent of them.”
Val barred her arms over her chest. “I can't wait until college.”
“ Well, I'm afraid you're going to have to,” her mother said dryly, “So I'd suggest making the best of the life you have now.”
(I think you're exquisite.)
Val hesitated. “There was one good thing that happened today, though.”
“ Oh? What was that?”
“ There's this boy at school, and I think — I really think he might like me.” Val frowned again. 'Like' somehow wasn't the right word. It was too simple. Too light.
Too innocent.
Mrs. Kimble shot her a sideways grin. “Oh, that's wonderful, Baby. Is he the one you told me about earlier? The one Lisa is playing matchmaker with?”
'Playing' matchmaker? Like it's a game of pretend? Val's frowned deepened into a scowl. “No. James is a jerk.”
“ I see.”
Silence.
“ So who is this new mystery man? Did Lisa introduce you to him?”
Val stomped her foot. “Mom! I can find boys without Lisa's help!”
“ Don't stomp! And I didn't say you couldn't.” Her mother looked offended.
“ You implied it.”
“ Goodness, you're sensitive today.”
Val glared ahead at the car stuck in front of them. Traffic was always heinous after school. The car had a “my child is a Derringer Honor Student” bumper sticker. The driver, however, had added another part, rife with irony, which read, “And all I got was this stupid sticker.”
She bet that kid's
“ That's not a hit list, then,” Val said. “I mean, it's creepy but it's not like he was actually seriously considering — ”
“ The cheerleaders would probably be the first to perish,” Lisa said, “Because, despite their natural athleticism, they have never known what it is like to truly need to run. That's a direct quote. His essay's on the wall of my classroom. I read part of it — and had to stop.”
“ I've read parts of it, too,” Lindsay said, nodding. “He said the most likely to survive would be one of the shy, quiet kids that nobody suspects because his or her 'apparent weakness' would cause them to be underestimated, thereby increasing his or her chance to use one of their natural advantages.”
“ What on earth renewed your interest in that psychopath?” Lisa wanted to know. “Because I thought we had already gone over this. Did he say something to you?”
“ — exquisite,” Rachel said in an undertone. Lindsay punched her in the arm.
Val wished she had something cold to put on her face. It was burning like a candle.
“ Oh my God, Val,” Lisa groaned. “He is going to chew you up and spit you out.”
“ Maybe not spit her out,” Rachel said, with a leer. “Not if he likes the taste of her.”
Lindsay punched her again, harder.
“ Ow! Not with the lacrosse arm. That freaking hurt!”
Lisa glared at the two of them. “Val, whether you believe me or not, he will hurt you. I do not want to watch that happen.”
“ Hey, maybe he's a really nice guy,” Rachel said, taking pity on Val's distraught expression. “I mean, Stephen King is apparently a doll and look at all the messed-up shit he writes.”
But Gavin isn't nice , Val thought in despair. He said so himself .
She felt as if she were right smack in the face of all public scrutiny — that's the girl who likes Hit List Guy — and it was like being trapped in a room without doors.
▪▫▪▫▪▫▪
When Mrs. Kimble asked, “How was school, Val?” she was a little alarmed when her normally chatty daughter responded with a grunt. “Did you have a bad day?”
“ Meh,” said Val.
“ Meh?”
“ High school is dumb.” Val scrunched up her face. “Everyone is so — so shallow .”
“ Oh, Val. You say that like it's such a novel observation. High school hasn't changed much since I was a girl, and I imagine that it's been pretty much the same since public schools first began.”
“ It's still dumb.”
“ Many things in the world are, and we can't do a thing about ninety-nine-percent of them.”
Val barred her arms over her chest. “I can't wait until college.”
“ Well, I'm afraid you're going to have to,” her mother said dryly, “So I'd suggest making the best of the life you have now.”
(I think you're exquisite.)
Val hesitated. “There was one good thing that happened today, though.”
“ Oh? What was that?”
“ There's this boy at school, and I think — I really think he might like me.” Val frowned again. 'Like' somehow wasn't the right word. It was too simple. Too light.
Too innocent.
Mrs. Kimble shot her a sideways grin. “Oh, that's wonderful, Baby. Is he the one you told me about earlier? The one Lisa is playing matchmaker with?”
'Playing' matchmaker? Like it's a game of pretend? Val's frowned deepened into a scowl. “No. James is a jerk.”
“ I see.”
Silence.
“ So who is this new mystery man? Did Lisa introduce you to him?”
Val stomped her foot. “Mom! I can find boys without Lisa's help!”
“ Don't stomp! And I didn't say you couldn't.” Her mother looked offended.
“ You implied it.”
“ Goodness, you're sensitive today.”
Val glared ahead at the car stuck in front of them. Traffic was always heinous after school. The car had a “my child is a Derringer Honor Student” bumper sticker. The driver, however, had added another part, rife with irony, which read, “And all I got was this stupid sticker.”
She bet that kid's
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