Unspeakable Things(14)

Locals called that area the Hollow.

All the Hollow kids rode my bus, so I knew them well.

Clam had taken his unruly environment to heart, which meant you could find him sitting out front of the principal’s office more days than not. “Clam was the one who was attacked last weekend?”

She nodded. “My mom was working an overnight at the hospital and was there when Clam was brought in. It happened Sunday. That’s why they have the curfew now.”

The tomato soup curdled in my throat. This wasn’t gossip-from-Betty anymore, wasn’t a rumor dog at all. This was something Evie’s mom had seen. Across the crowded room, Clam held Ricky Tink in a headlock as Wayne Johnson looked on. Because the three of them were friends, it might have looked like boy fun to an adult’s eyes. If you grew up with Clam, you knew that sort of behavior was a warning that he was in a foul mood. “But he came back to school?”

Evie nibbled on her bottom lip, her sharp teeth a startling white against her deep-pink flesh. “Yup. The very next day. Yesterday.”

The lunchroom was doused in shadow as a cloud rolled over the sun. Today’s high was forecasted at seventy-five degrees, but it hadn’t been spring long enough to chase the chill from the dark corners. “Is it gangs from the Cities that did it to Clam?”

Evie rolled her eyes. “I told you, it’s probably the Peeping Tom who took him. Chester the Molester is what everyone is calling him. My mom said Clam had to spend the night in the hospital. Said he had to wear diapers.”

A thousand needle-footed ants crawled across my ankles and began marching toward my scalp. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” I whispered, my lunch bucking in my belly. “I just want to get that airplane necklace.”

“What?”

I shook my head, grabbing my tray and walking toward the kitchen.

I fought the urge to turn around to see if Evie cast a fox-shaped shadow.

There was a girls’ bathroom at the end of the school where the woodworking shop was. It was never used. After I dropped off my tray, I headed to it, needing some alone time. There were three empty stalls inside. I chose the farthest from the door. I perched on the toilet, gripping my knees so my feet were off the ground. If I didn’t get out of here soon, I was going to be late for algebra, but I had to catch my breath.

Maybe it wasn’t money Dad had been afraid about last night.

Maybe he knew something about Clam being attacked.

I heard someone entering the bathroom.

“—better for the school,” a woman was saying. It sounded like Mrs. Puglisi, the home economics teacher. My heart sank. Being in the bathroom with teachers was the worst. It was unsettling to hear them make those human noises.

The water faucet turned on. Maybe they were just freshening up. I peeked under the stall and saw two sets of feet. That’s when I realized that if they’d done the same, they’d think they were alone in here because I was still holding my knees, even though my legs were beginning to shake from the effort.

“Mr. Connelly is good at his job, and that’s what’s best for the school,” the other woman responded. I was sure it was Mrs. Janowski, the principal, and now that they were talking shop, no way could I let on that I was in here.

“Even if he’s the Peeping Tom?”

My mouth grew dry. Mr. Connelly?

“He’s not the Peeping Tom, Carol,” Mrs. Janowski said. “I’d bet my career on it.”

“That’s exactly what you’re doing,” Mrs. Puglisi responded. “You know he’s a queer.”

“Carol!”

I could almost hear her shrug through the thin metal partitions. “I’m not telling you anything you don’t know. A grown man, still living with his parents besides. His mother had a heart attack last week. Did you hear about that? It would explain why he wasn’t able to control his urges anymore. That sort of stress drives a man crazy.”

Heels clicked over to the stall next to mine, followed by the whirring of toilet paper being unwound and then the honk of a nose blow. Mrs. Janowski wasn’t responding to Mrs. Puglisi’s bait, but that didn’t slow down Mrs. Puglisi at all. “The boy who was attacked could turn queer now, too. Did you ever think of that?”

That sent a thrill of terror through me. Was that sort of thing contagious?

“What do you want me to do?” Mrs. Janowski asked from near the sinks. “Kick a child out of school for being attacked?”

Mrs. Puglisi stepped out of the stall next to me, a light phiff telling me she’d tossed her used tissue. “Now you’re being ridiculous,” she said. “I’m only telling you to be prepared. You’re going to hear the same from parents.”

Mrs. Janowski sighed. I didn’t hear her response because they click-clacked out of the bathroom before she got a chance to respond.

Mrs. Puglisi had not washed her hands after she’d blown her nose.

I dropped my legs and shook the cramps out of my fingers. I scrubbed my mitts and checked both ways before leaving the bathroom.

All clear.

Except I didn’t think it would be all clear in Lilydale ever again.





CHAPTER 9

The air pouring in through the school bus windows smelled like fresh-squeezed limes, and despite the wackadoodle day, I was full of wandering hope. Summer was coming. I was telling Sephie about what I’d overheard in the bathroom, but not with much investment.