Where'd You Go, Bernadette: A Novel by Maria Semple

Elgin is standing there in his socks. In front of Al Gore and Cameron Diaz!) “We’re on for noon,” Pablo went on. “We have a third-party meeting in South Lake Union. How about we turn it into lunch downtown? Wild Ginger?”
    “Great,” answered Elgin. “It’s next to the light rail station. I can go straight to the airport.” I had seen on the Samantha 2 calendar that Elgin has an out-of-town presentation tomorrow.
    Pablo turned, and I introduced myself. “Hooray!” he said. “Our new admin! Man, we’ve been dying around here without you. How about you join us for lunch?”
    “You must have heard my stomach growling,” I chirped. “I have a car. I can drive us downtown.”
    “Let’s take the 888 Shuttle,” Elgin said. “I’m going to need the Wi-Fi to get some emails out.”
    “The 888 Shuttle it is,” I said, insulted at the rejection but a little consoled because the 888 Shuttle is for VPs and up, and this will be my first opportunity to ride it. “Wild Ginger at noon. I’ll make a reservation.”
    So here I am now, dreading the meal on what should be the happiest day of my life. Oh, Audrey, I hope your day is going better than mine.
    *
    From: Audrey Griffin
    To: Soo-Lin Lee-Segal
    Who cares about Elgin Branch? I care about you. I’m so proud of everything you’ve overcome since the divorce. Finally, you’re getting the recognition you deserve.
    My day is going dandy. A machine is ripping out all the blackberry vines from Bernadette’s hill. It has put me in such soaring spirits that I am able to laugh off an incident at Galer Street that otherwise might have landed me in a snit.
    Gwen Goodyear grabbed me this morning and asked to speak privately in her office. Who was sitting there in a big leather chair with his back to me? Kyle! Gwen shut the door and went behind her desk. There was a chair next to Kyle, so I sat down.
    Gwen opened her drawer. “We found something in Kyle’s locker yesterday.” She held up an orange pill bottle. It had my name on it—it was the Vicodin prescription I got after Our Lady of Straight Gate tried to plow me over in her car.
    “What’s that doing here?” I said.
    “Kyle?” Gwen said.
    “I don’t know,” said Kyle.
    “Galer Street has a zero-tolerance drug policy,” Gwen said.
    “But it’s
prescription
medicine,” I said, still not understanding her point.
    “Kyle,” Gwen said. “Why was it in your locker?”
    I did not like where this was going. Not one bit. I told her: “I went to the emergency room thanks to Bernadette Fox. I left
on crutches
, if you remember. I asked Kyle to hold my purse, and the prescription medicine. Good Lord.”
    “When did you realize your Vicodin was missing?” Gwen asked.
    “Not until this moment,” I said.
    “Why is the bottle empty? Let Kyle answer this, Audrey.” She turned to Kyle. “Kyle, why is it empty?”
    “I don’t know,” Kyle answered.
    “I’m sure it was empty when we got it,” I said. “You know how understaffed they are over at the UW Medical. They probably forgot tofill it. Are we done yet? Maybe you haven’t heard, but I’m hosting a party tomorrow for sixty prospective parents.” I got up and left.
    Now that I write this, I’d like to know what
Gwen Goodyear
was doing in Kyle’s locker. Don’t they have locks on them? Isn’t that why they’re called lockers?
    *
    All our lockers have combination locks built into the doors. It’s a total drag to turn the little dials back and forth a million times whenever you need to get something. Everyone hates it. But Kyle and the juvies figured out a way around it, which is to smash the locks until they break off. Kyle’s locker door is permanently ajar. That’s what Ms. Goodyear was doing in Kyle’s locker.
    *
    From: Bernadette Fox
    To: Manjula Kapoor
    It was the first time I had been downtown in a year. I immediately remembered why: the pay-to-park meters.
    Parking in Seattle is an eight-step process. Step one, find a place to park