Homer grabbed Skye’s arm and hissed in her ear, “Stop that boy right now. Next thing we know all the kids’ll be stripping the grave of every last flower.”
She rolled her eyes but complied with the principal’s demand. Something that would seem unimportant to most people, like taking a few extra roses, was a capital offense within the school system.
Skye cut Justin out of the herd as quietly as a sheepdog separates a lamb from the flock.
When they were well away from the others, she said, “You’ll have to put those back. It’s inappropriate for you to have taken so many.”
The boy clutched the roses, reverting back to silence.
Skye took a breath and started again. “Maybe you didn’t know, but the custom is for everyone to take only one flower, as a remembrance.”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Whatever I do is wrong.”
Skye felt her heart sink. It was one step forward with this kid and two steps back. What had happened in his short life that had so thoroughly stripped him of his self-esteem?
She led the boy farther from the others. “Now, I know that’s not true. But I also know that what I think doesn’t matter. It’s what you believe that counts.” She stole a look at his face. It had relaxed a little. “Something I try to remember when I have negative thoughts about myself is that it takes a long time to become the person we want to be. It’s not a road we can race down, but one we have to walk every step of the way.”
Justin nodded slightly. “Didn’t mean to do anything wrong.”
“I know that.”
He sniffed. “I saw everybody taking flowers, and my mom loves roses, and I just thought no one would miss a couple extra. She’s been real sad lately.”
“Okay, here’s what we do. Give me the flowers, and I’ll put them back. Then after school we’ll go and get some nice fresh ones at Stybr’s Florist. Okay?”
He nodded and thrust the bouquet into her arms. Skye walked back to the casket. Nearly everyone had left, heading back to town for the funeral luncheon. She quickly tucked the roses into one of the vases and hurried to the bus.
The students had already boarded, and their mood was now more relaxed. They had an air of having completed something, and now they were moving on.
Skye sat and listened as the bus inched its way forward, caught in a line of vehicles trying to exit the single- lane road.
One of the younger girls said to her seatmate, “Lorelei was so perfect. She was beautiful and smart and really, really nice to everyone. She reminded me of Princess Diana. Why do all the best people die?”
One of the senior girls turned and skewered the freshman with a look. “Lorelei was a real bitch. And it just galled me to see how she fooled all you children.”
Another senior girl turned in her seat and joined in. “Yeah, all you saw was the Miss Goody Two-shoes act. You didn’t see the dirty tricks she played to stay on top.”
The first senior said, “I was doing Humorous Interpretation for the speech team. I’d finaled both my freshman and sophomore years and was sure I could win my junior year, but Lorelei decided she wanted to do Humor, and Miss Cormorant just shoved me into Prose.”
“I know the feeling,” another girl added. “I had a part in the musical, and during one of the rehearsals my lines got some laughs, and Sleeping Beauty wasn’t the star for a minute and a half. Suddenly, my character had no dialogue.”
Skye let the words whirl around her. It seemed as if Lorelei had fooled the teachers and the younger students, but the girls in her own class had seen her inner self. Instead of being Sleeping Beauty, maybe Lorelei had been the evil fairy.
That explained the lack of true grief Skye had witnessed while working with Lorelei’s so-called closest friends. She had thought that the incident with Frannie not making cheerleading because of Lorelei was an isolated one, but it sounded like it was the norm.
The bus reached the main road and started to pick up speed. Skye twisted in her seat and tried to hear what Lorelei’s clique was saying. Zoe was draped over Troy, whispering in his ear. He wore a goofy grin. Skye caught his eye and frowned, shaking her head. He pulled slowly away and said something to the girl. She shot Skye a malevolent look. Skye would take odds they hadn’t been talking about Lorelei.
Caresse and Farrah were seated together, and Skye zeroed in on their conversation. “She was an angel. One time I broke my nail right before the big game, and she glued it back on for me. She even touched up the polish with her very own bottle.”
Farrah nodded. “I know what you mean. Around Christmas I was gaining a little weight and she helped me. She took me aside and told me no one likes fat girls, and I’d better start doing what she did or I’d be as big as Fat Frannie.”
Caresse looked horrified and asked in a breathless tone, “What did you do?”
“I did what she told me, of course.” The teen shuddered. “Can you imagine getting like Fat Frannie? She must take a size twelve, maybe even a fourteen.” Farrah patted her nonexistent hip. “I’m happy to say the Lorelei weight-loss plan put me right back into a size four.”
Caresse shook her head. “You’re satisfied with that?” She took out a mirror. “I’d just die if I got higher than a two.”
“I really don’t want to go to the funeral luncheon,” Skye repeated.
“Why not? You got to eat anyway, and it gives you a good excuse to psychoanalyze what people are saying,” Charlie said, leaning both hands on her desk.
Skye smiled to herself. No matter how many times she explained, Charlie never quite seemed to understand what a psychologist could and couldn’t do. He was convinced she was a cross between Houdini and Miss Marple.
She patted his hand. “You’re going anyway, so you nose around and tell me what you find out.”
“Do I look like a goddamn people person? No one’s going to tell me anything.”
Skye snorted. Yeah. Right. Like Charlie wasn’t the best manipulator in the state. “I’ve got so much work to do. I’ve got thirteen more kids to test at the elementary school, four at the middle school, and a couple here. And starting May first, I have eight annual reviews scheduled every day for the rest of the year. On top of that, there’s that crisis plan you’ve ordered me to develop.”
“If you run out of time, we’ll pay you to finish up during the summer.”
Skye paled at the threat to her summer vacation. “I’ve already agreed to work at the recreational club again this summer.”
“We’ll talk about that later,” Charlie hedged. “Right now we should get going, or we’ll miss most of the meal.”
“You go ahead. I’ll join you if I have time.”
“Skye, sweetheart, I’m saying I really would like you to come along.” A strange look crossed his face. “I’ve been having these pains.”
Skye flew around the desk and guided him to a chair. “Pains? Where? How long? I’ll call 911.”
Charlie’s blue eye’s started to twinkle. “In my butt, from people hounding me ever since you found Lorelei’s body.”
Skye insisted on driving her own car to the luncheon, hoping she could sneak out early and get some testing done at the grade school in the afternoon.
The Ingels were Lutheran, and since the Lutheran church had no hall, they’d been forced to make other arrangements. They had decided to have the funeral meal at the new country club, located halfway between the towns of Laurel and Scumble River.
As Skye turned into the long drive, she saw golfers on both sides. All were in carts. So much for golf as a chance to exercise. She wondered how come so many people weren’t working on a Wednesday in the middle of April. Then again, the lush, green gently rolling hills spoke of privilege and not working a nine-to-five kind of job.
She noticed several of the golfers had stopped to stare at her. What was going on? Had she forgotten to
