“This is bad enough, but now you’re asking me to compromise professional ethics and downgrade another kid so you can get an award.”
“It’s not just the award.”
“That’s what bothers me. See you Monday and get that paper in.” He pulled his arm free and slipped out the window.
In a moment, he was climbing down the drainpipe as he had done before.
“Fuck your professional ethics,” she whispered. “And fuck you, Mr. Kaminsky.”
When he was out of sight, she looked back in the room—at the bookcase on the far wall. She walked to it and reached up to the second shelf and moved aside some books to reveal the small wireless video camera. She rewound it, pressed Play, and watched the whole scene from the moment Michael climbed through her window.
Then she looked at the photos on the wall. The shot of the Biology Club on a field trip. There was Amy Tran with the flat grinning face, the greasy black hair and chipped tooth, the stupid slitted eyes, the breathy simpering voice and ugly ching-chong accent that charmed the teachers who thought it wonderful how she took extra English courses and worked around the clock because she was a poor and underprivileged foreigner.
Nicole hissed to herself and gouged out Amy’s eyes with a razor knife.
15
“Hey, look at the tiger,” Dylan hooted. On the far side of a small water hole was a long- legged cat pacing back and forth, his eyes fixed someplace in the far distance.
“That’s not a tiger, it’s a cheetah,” declared Lucinda, pointing to the sign in front of Dylan.
A couple of the kids giggled at Dylan’s mistake.
“C-H-E-E-T-A-H,” Lucinda said. “Can’t you read?”
“I can read,” Dylan said weakly.
“No you can’t,” Lucinda said. “You can’t read anything.”
“Besides, tigers have stripes,” said Lucinda’s friend Courtney.
Lucinda shook her head at him in disgust. “You must be taking stupid pills.”
Sheila and Rachel were maybe ten feet behind them, but Rachel heard the comment and instantly saw red. From the look on Dylan’s face, he was clearly wounded. Rachel’s body lurched, but she caught herself, exerting every fiber of self-control not to fly at Lucinda and smash her fat little self satisfied face.
“Lucinda!” Sheila cried and grabbed her daughter by the arm. “I don’t want to hear that kind of talk from you ever!” she growled, wagging her finger in her face. “Do you understand me, young lady? Do you? DO YOU?”
Lucinda’s face froze in shock at her mother’s reaction.
“You do not talk to other people that way,” Sheila continued. “I want you to apologize to Dylan right now.” Sheila steered her toward him.
Rachel half-expected Lucinda to begin crying at the humiliation, but instead she turned her face to Dylan. “Sor-reee,” she sang out.
Dylan shrugged. “That’s okay.”
But Sheila wouldn’t let go. She had taken Lucinda’s arm and pulled her aside. “Say it like you mean it,” she snapped.
“That’s fine,” Rachel said, wanting to stop her from dragging out the incident.
But Sheila persisted. “Say it
“I’m sorry,” Lucinda said in a flat voice.
Sheila started to insist her daughter affect a tone of remorse, when Rachel cut her off. “We accept your apology, right?” she asked Dylan.
“Sure,” he muttered. He was beginning to squirm from the attention. He also wanted to get back to the others enjoying the cheetah. Then in all innocence he added: “I
“No you’re not,” Rachel said. “You’re
He and Lucinda moved to the group of kids.
“I’m really sorry about that,” Sheila said. “Really. That was uncalled for.”
Rachel nodded and looked away, wishing that Sheila would drop the subject. Her overreaction was making it worse—as if Lucinda had called a paraplegic a “crip.” Because he was young, Dylan would repair. But on a subconscious level he must have absorbed something of the message. How many times must you be told you’re a dummy before you internalize it?
The rest of the morning passed without other incidents.
Later, on the bus, Rachel could hear Lucinda challenge the other kids to an impromptu spelling bee, then an arithmetic contest—mostly who could add or subtract numbers in their heads. She was clearly the Dells power kid, always pontificating, always needing to show how clever she was, how much more she knew than the others. And even though most kids were too young to rank each other, Lucinda had already established the mind-set that Dylan was at the bottom of the hierarchy: the one to pick on—the class dope.
Throughout the ride, Rachel tried to keep up conversation with Sheila, but her mind was aswirl with emotion. By the time the bus arrived back at the Dells, she had put away the anger, resentment, and envy, leaving her with an overwhelming sense of sadness not unlike grief.
When she got home, Rachel found a voice message from Martin saying he would be getting home late that night and would have dinner in town. So she dropped Dylan off with her sitter who was free and headed to an afternoon exercise class at Kingsbury Club just outside of Hawthorne. It would feel good to throw herself into some mindless technomusic aerobics just to work off the stress.
The place, a large structure tastefully designed and nestled between an open field and conservation area, was a full-service fitness center with tennis courts, full-length pool, a workout gym with all the latest in exercise equipment. Shortly after she had joined, she convinced Sheila to do the same.
The parking lot was more than half-full at that time of day. When she did not spot Sheila’s green Jaguar, she felt relieved. She didn’t want to see her. She didn’t want to talk to her.
Her aerobics class had about twenty women, some of whom she was friendly with. But she did not feel friendly this afternoon, so she skipped the two o’clock class and headed for the treadmills.
About fifteen minutes into her workout, Rachel spotted Sheila through the windows to the lobby. Before Rachel could duck out of view, Sheila waved at her. In a few minutes Sheila showed up wearing a black warm-up suit with white stripes.
“Mind if I join you?” she asked, getting on the adjacent machine.
“I’m only on for another ten minutes,” Rachel said.
“That’s fine. I’m here for a quick hit. I’ve got a place to show at three.”
Rachel clicked up her speed a couple of tenths until she was at a full power walk. Meanwhile, Sheila got herself into a stiff gait. They kept that up silently for several minutes until Rachel dropped her speed to cool off and coast to a finish. Sheila did the same.
“Sorry about this morning,” Sheila said, after catching her breath.
“No problem.” Rachel got off the machine and mopped her face. She guzzled down some water from her bottle and started to head for the free weights, hoping Sheila would stay on her machine. But she got off, not having even worked up the slightest sweat. A quick hit that was hardly worth the effort.
They were in the main fitness room, a large chamber with nobody within earshot of them. So, on an impulse, Rachel announced, “I’m thinking of taking Dylan out of DellKids.”
“God, I hope not because of what happened.”
“No. It’s not Lucinda’s fault. We’re going to look for a more appropriate place for him. There’s a group in
