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“Okay, alrighty. How did you feel about Atticus?”
“He was nice?
”
“Yes, yes he was,” Dave Douglas agreed, scribbling on his yellow tablet, then returning to stare at me in anticipatory silence.
“So do you want to hear more about my book report?”
“No, that’s enough. You know I’m your friend, right?”
“Sure.”
“Are you feeling scared, or nervous?”
“No.”
“You know that your sister and brother did not go away because of something you did wrong, right?”
“Wrong right? That sounds funny.”
“You think it’s funny?”
“I meant the way that sounded. I didn’t mean what happened to them. Forget it.”
“You know, death is a lot of things, but I wouldn’t call it funny… I notice you’re wearing your sister’s class ring.”
I nodded. The garage sale never ended. I had discovered a box of bowling trophies in the corner, awaiting a shelf, and I mentally priced them at fifty cents apiece.
“Did they give that to you after your sister passed?”
“Passed?” I asked, pretending I did not understand what he meant.
“Um… After your sister died.”
“She’s not dead. She’s just missing.”
His eyes lit up. Finally, he was thinking, she has exposed herself as delusional. The break in the case every counselor dreams of. “What do you mean?” he asked, feigning concern.
“You do know that they never found her body, right Dave?”
“Oh. Really?” He scribbled on his notepad, clearly not familiar with the details of the case. He looked up at me, testing the situation, and asked, “What about your brother?”
I yawned. “What do you mean?”
“Do you think he’s ‘missing’ also?”
“He’s dead.”
Dave scribbled on his pad some more, aware that he had better find out what happened or he was not going to be able to evaluate how messed up I was.
“I have so much homework to do. Do you think I could leave a little early today?”
“No can do, Kiddo,” he said, tapping his watch.
“No problem,” I said, flexing my foot to keep it from falling asleep.
“So what’s on your mind?”
