organic produce she’d forgotten to eat.
Harry grinned. “It’s a deal. I can’t promise I’ll be home for dinner every night, what with the job and all, but I’ll do my best—”
I waved my hand. “It’s okay, I’m good with the lone wolf thing, I’ll make stuff that generates lots of leftovers.”
Not long after that, Dad got a call on his radio—somebody got drunk and fell down a flight of stairs, and Harry had to go make sure there wasn’t any foul play—so I had the big old house to myself. I considered trying to find out where the Scullens lived, maybe doing a little judicious stalking, but despite Marmon’s many fine qualities, he wasn’t an ideal reconnaissance vehicle.
I settled for locking my door—it didn’t have a lock originally, but I’d brought a few hook-and-eyes and sliding bolts with me in my luggage, along with a battery-powered screwdriver, so that was okay—and plugging in my vibrator (the battery-powered ones are way too weak, don’t believe the hype) and thinking about Edwin, wondering if he was that pale and smooth and perfect all over.
Tomorrow, the games would begin. Tomorrow, I’d start winning.
Except tomorrow came, and Edwin wasn’t there . I spent the whole morning living halfway into the future, half-flirting with baby-faced Ike by rote, playing some little Queen Bee games with J and Kelly—backhanded compliments, subtle undermining, setting them at odds, really basic stuff, but essential for shifting around the social pecking order to favor me—but mostly just thinking Edwin Edwin Edwin . Then lunchtime came, and he wasn’t at his table. His semi-siblings were all there, but no Edwin, boy of my waking dreams.
In the middle of some stupid babbling Ike was doing about taking a trip to the lake I stood up, strolled over to the Scullen/Scale table, and gave them my biggest wide-open smile. “Hello,” I said. “I’m Bonnie.”
They all stared at me. Their faces might as well have been carved in marble. They were all so pretty . Was Dr. Scullen secretly a cosmetic surgeon, practicing at home on his foster brood, making them into images of perfection? I let my smile drop. “Anyway,” I said. “I need to talk to Edwin. Is he here today?”
Rosemarie and Pleasance rose to their feet, picked up their trays, and walked away like I wasn’t even there.
Blood rose into my cheeks. Cut dead by those pretty bitches, in public, in front of everyone ? Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. Not okay. There would be consequences.
Hermet the giant got up, glanced at me, grinned like a moron, and lumbered out. That just left Garnett, who sighed. “Sorry about that,” he said. “They’re just… Edwin had to go up to Canada for a little while.”
“How long?”
Garnett shrugged.
“Very helpful.” I went back to my table, where the convocation of lesser beings stared at me. I sat down, and went back to eating, and J finally said, “What was that all about?”
“I just wanted to borrow Edwin’s notes from biology class for the week before I moved here,” I said. “But he’s not around.”
That answer didn’t seem to satisfy any of them, but they didn’t push, and fell back into their mewing and bleating routine soon enough.
So Edwin had taken a sudden trip to Canada. Interesting. It was insane to think he’d left town because of me … but in my experience, most things in the world do seem to revolve around me. And if they don’t start out that way, they get there eventually.
Biology class with no partner was a bit of a bore. Indeed, the whole week was pretty useless. No Edwin meant nothing of interest . I used the time well, of course. I discovered that the grocery store—Dolph’s Half Good Grocery, “It Isn’t Half Bad!”—was immensely easy to shoplift from, as the cash register was either run by a profoundly stupid and inattentive teenager, or by the owner, Dolph, who spent most of his time flirting desperately with various housewives. I learned the faces,
Harry grinned. “It’s a deal. I can’t promise I’ll be home for dinner every night, what with the job and all, but I’ll do my best—”
I waved my hand. “It’s okay, I’m good with the lone wolf thing, I’ll make stuff that generates lots of leftovers.”
Not long after that, Dad got a call on his radio—somebody got drunk and fell down a flight of stairs, and Harry had to go make sure there wasn’t any foul play—so I had the big old house to myself. I considered trying to find out where the Scullens lived, maybe doing a little judicious stalking, but despite Marmon’s many fine qualities, he wasn’t an ideal reconnaissance vehicle.
I settled for locking my door—it didn’t have a lock originally, but I’d brought a few hook-and-eyes and sliding bolts with me in my luggage, along with a battery-powered screwdriver, so that was okay—and plugging in my vibrator (the battery-powered ones are way too weak, don’t believe the hype) and thinking about Edwin, wondering if he was that pale and smooth and perfect all over.
Tomorrow, the games would begin. Tomorrow, I’d start winning.
Except tomorrow came, and Edwin wasn’t there . I spent the whole morning living halfway into the future, half-flirting with baby-faced Ike by rote, playing some little Queen Bee games with J and Kelly—backhanded compliments, subtle undermining, setting them at odds, really basic stuff, but essential for shifting around the social pecking order to favor me—but mostly just thinking Edwin Edwin Edwin . Then lunchtime came, and he wasn’t at his table. His semi-siblings were all there, but no Edwin, boy of my waking dreams.
In the middle of some stupid babbling Ike was doing about taking a trip to the lake I stood up, strolled over to the Scullen/Scale table, and gave them my biggest wide-open smile. “Hello,” I said. “I’m Bonnie.”
They all stared at me. Their faces might as well have been carved in marble. They were all so pretty . Was Dr. Scullen secretly a cosmetic surgeon, practicing at home on his foster brood, making them into images of perfection? I let my smile drop. “Anyway,” I said. “I need to talk to Edwin. Is he here today?”
Rosemarie and Pleasance rose to their feet, picked up their trays, and walked away like I wasn’t even there.
Blood rose into my cheeks. Cut dead by those pretty bitches, in public, in front of everyone ? Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. Not okay. There would be consequences.
Hermet the giant got up, glanced at me, grinned like a moron, and lumbered out. That just left Garnett, who sighed. “Sorry about that,” he said. “They’re just… Edwin had to go up to Canada for a little while.”
“How long?”
Garnett shrugged.
“Very helpful.” I went back to my table, where the convocation of lesser beings stared at me. I sat down, and went back to eating, and J finally said, “What was that all about?”
“I just wanted to borrow Edwin’s notes from biology class for the week before I moved here,” I said. “But he’s not around.”
That answer didn’t seem to satisfy any of them, but they didn’t push, and fell back into their mewing and bleating routine soon enough.
So Edwin had taken a sudden trip to Canada. Interesting. It was insane to think he’d left town because of me … but in my experience, most things in the world do seem to revolve around me. And if they don’t start out that way, they get there eventually.
Biology class with no partner was a bit of a bore. Indeed, the whole week was pretty useless. No Edwin meant nothing of interest . I used the time well, of course. I discovered that the grocery store—Dolph’s Half Good Grocery, “It Isn’t Half Bad!”—was immensely easy to shoplift from, as the cash register was either run by a profoundly stupid and inattentive teenager, or by the owner, Dolph, who spent most of his time flirting desperately with various housewives. I learned the faces,
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