you the night he disappeared?” West asked.
They knew about the phone call.
Shay covered again. “To talk. We did that all the time.” True enough. “We had a time that we called, when everybody would be asleep. If you check, you’ll see we always talk at three a.m. I’d leave my phone on vibrate, so nobody else would hear it.”
West peered at her, assessing her, and she realized that they knew about the other 3:00 a.m. calls too. She’d said the right thing, told the right lie. Lies, she’d learned, should always be as close as possible to the truth.
She added, “All he said that night was that he was having trouble with a bully at his foster house, and that he talked to a man from Caltech about scholarship stuff. He was trying to figure out living expenses. That’s why I’m so worried. He was making plans for the future, and the next thing I know, people say he ran away.”
She
was
worried, and felt tears start. She’d normally never cry in front of a stranger—or in front of anyone—but now it seemed like a good idea, so she let them come.
West said, “You ran away a couple of times—it’s in your file. Why?”
She wiped the tears away. “I didn’t go far. I never went farther than Portland.”
“But why’d you take off?”
Shay dropped her eyes, recalling the episode. “I have trouble with people telling me what to do. Some foster parents try tocontrol everything you do. And the second time, my foster parent then, Richard, said some things that made me uncomfortable. About us being better friends. I thought he didn’t exactly want to be friends.”
West gave her a quick nod and asked, “This was the guy you … forked?”
She had to laugh. Richard had gotten more than a little friendly one night as Shay was making scrambled eggs, and she’d stuck a fork in his hand.
“That’s the guy,” she said, but got serious again when she realized just how deep inside her files West had been. “You talked to him?”
“We’ve done numerous interviews,” he said, and they both knew it was another dodge. “Did you tell Oates about what he was doing?”
Shay shrugged. “She doesn’t want the details. They don’t have enough foster parents. But she moved me here. Clarence, I’m happy to say, is too lazy to molest anybody.”
“So that’s not so bad.”
“No, it’s not. Clarence and Mary aren’t exactly high achievers, but the thing is, I’ve actually learned stuff from them. About living outdoors, about climbing.”
“That’s cool.” The man showed a thin smile, hesitated, then said, “My little sister had a college professor. He suggested that she could get an A for sleeping with him, or an F for not sleeping with him.”
“That’s awful,” Shay said. She meant it.
“Some friends and I spoke to him. He changed his position,” West said.
“He left her alone?”
“He changed his position on the planet,” West said. “He movedback to England. His USA privileges have been permanently revoked.”
She smiled—he’d made her like him. “Maybe you should talk to Richard,” she said. “The next girl who lives with him, well …”
“She might not know how to use a fork?”
“That’s right.” Shay smiled again.
“I could do that, if you help us out.” He stood up and turned away from her to look around the room, at the corkboard with its reminder notes and absence of family photos, and something about his legs … He moved like an athlete, a good one, but he seemed not awkward, but not quite natural.
He glanced back at her and saw her looking at his legs. “I lost my legs in Afghanistan,” he said.
“Wow … you move like a jock,” she said.
“Lost them up above the knees,” he said. He hiked up one of his pant legs, above the sock, to reveal a smooth, fleshlike leg, but too smooth, and too Caucasian. “They’re still working on the look of black skin. It wasn’t the highest priority. The next editions may even have hair—for the men,
They knew about the phone call.
Shay covered again. “To talk. We did that all the time.” True enough. “We had a time that we called, when everybody would be asleep. If you check, you’ll see we always talk at three a.m. I’d leave my phone on vibrate, so nobody else would hear it.”
West peered at her, assessing her, and she realized that they knew about the other 3:00 a.m. calls too. She’d said the right thing, told the right lie. Lies, she’d learned, should always be as close as possible to the truth.
She added, “All he said that night was that he was having trouble with a bully at his foster house, and that he talked to a man from Caltech about scholarship stuff. He was trying to figure out living expenses. That’s why I’m so worried. He was making plans for the future, and the next thing I know, people say he ran away.”
She
was
worried, and felt tears start. She’d normally never cry in front of a stranger—or in front of anyone—but now it seemed like a good idea, so she let them come.
West said, “You ran away a couple of times—it’s in your file. Why?”
She wiped the tears away. “I didn’t go far. I never went farther than Portland.”
“But why’d you take off?”
Shay dropped her eyes, recalling the episode. “I have trouble with people telling me what to do. Some foster parents try tocontrol everything you do. And the second time, my foster parent then, Richard, said some things that made me uncomfortable. About us being better friends. I thought he didn’t exactly want to be friends.”
West gave her a quick nod and asked, “This was the guy you … forked?”
She had to laugh. Richard had gotten more than a little friendly one night as Shay was making scrambled eggs, and she’d stuck a fork in his hand.
“That’s the guy,” she said, but got serious again when she realized just how deep inside her files West had been. “You talked to him?”
“We’ve done numerous interviews,” he said, and they both knew it was another dodge. “Did you tell Oates about what he was doing?”
Shay shrugged. “She doesn’t want the details. They don’t have enough foster parents. But she moved me here. Clarence, I’m happy to say, is too lazy to molest anybody.”
“So that’s not so bad.”
“No, it’s not. Clarence and Mary aren’t exactly high achievers, but the thing is, I’ve actually learned stuff from them. About living outdoors, about climbing.”
“That’s cool.” The man showed a thin smile, hesitated, then said, “My little sister had a college professor. He suggested that she could get an A for sleeping with him, or an F for not sleeping with him.”
“That’s awful,” Shay said. She meant it.
“Some friends and I spoke to him. He changed his position,” West said.
“He left her alone?”
“He changed his position on the planet,” West said. “He movedback to England. His USA privileges have been permanently revoked.”
She smiled—he’d made her like him. “Maybe you should talk to Richard,” she said. “The next girl who lives with him, well …”
“She might not know how to use a fork?”
“That’s right.” Shay smiled again.
“I could do that, if you help us out.” He stood up and turned away from her to look around the room, at the corkboard with its reminder notes and absence of family photos, and something about his legs … He moved like an athlete, a good one, but he seemed not awkward, but not quite natural.
He glanced back at her and saw her looking at his legs. “I lost my legs in Afghanistan,” he said.
“Wow … you move like a jock,” she said.
“Lost them up above the knees,” he said. He hiked up one of his pant legs, above the sock, to reveal a smooth, fleshlike leg, but too smooth, and too Caucasian. “They’re still working on the look of black skin. It wasn’t the highest priority. The next editions may even have hair—for the men,
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