threatening her safety. “I’m being silly. It’s probably nothing.”
Bibi’s expression said quite clearly that it wasn’t “nothing.” But Rachel turned the purse over, anyway.
Paper-clipped to the back flap of her purse was a page torn from a small desk calendar. Every day following Sunday had been slashed through with vivid red paint. Scrawled across the top of the page in the same shiny red were the words YOU WILL NEVER SEE ANOTHER MONDAY.
Monday. Tomorrow. She was never going to see tomorrow? Or any other tomorrow?
Holding the defaced calendar page gingerly, Rachel looked up at Bibi. “Is there more inside?” she asked quietly, her voice strained.
Bibi’s blonde ponytail flew as she shook her head. “I didn’t have the guts to look. I don’t think you should, either, Rachel. That message on your purse is enough to take to campus security. Let’s just take the purse and go to the security office and let them look inside, okay?”
Rachel’s expression was grim. “No. It’s my purse. I’ll look.”
“Rachel, you don’t know what’s in there. That’s a threat on the flap. The purse could be booby-trapped or something.”
Rachel uttered a short, harsh laugh. “Booby-trapped? You mean like with a bomb? I thought I was the one with the imagination. I’ll bet there isn’t anything at all inside. Someone is just trying to scare me.” She laughed again, without humor. “Like I’m not already.”
Bibi, her eyes wide, scooted backward on the floor until her back bumped into the desk chair. She sat on the floor, watching.
Rachel picked up the purse, pulled the zipper open, and peered inside. Then, frowning, she slid her fingers inside and when she withdrew them, she was holding a small, white plastic-wrapped package in her hands.
“Rachel, please don’t open that,” Bibi begged. “Please!”
“Oh, come on, Bibi,” Rachel said lightly, dropping the purse on the floor to begin untying the twine around the white plastic, “you know what they say. Good things come in small packages, right?” But her fingers were shaking as she tugged at the twine.
They were so lost in the moment that when a knock came on the door, both jumped and cried out.
“Rachel, it’s Aidan. You in there?”
“And Joseph and Paloma,” Paloma’s voice called. “We’re here, too.”
“And Sam,” Samantha added, laughing.
Bibi sighed with relief and jumped up to let them in. “Now I don’t have to be the only one witnessing the unveiling,” she said over her shoulder as she opened the door. In a rush of words, she told the group what was going on. Her words tumbled out in a jumble that no one grasped.
They were still puzzled as they came inside and saw Rachel sitting on the bed unwrapping the package.
Bibi scooped up the purse and showed them the words scrawled in paint on the calendar page.
Paloma paled visibly, Joseph uttered a quiet oath, Aidan hurried over to Rachel’s side and sat down on the bed beside her, and Samantha said sensibly, “Rachel, you should have just taken that package to security.”
“I told her the same thing,” Bibi said, sitting down on her own bed, “but she wouldn’t listen.”
“I knew it was a painting,” Rachel said as she peeled away the plastic to reveal a small, rectangular object. She held up the object, facing it toward them so they could all see it. “And that’s exactly what it is.”
It was indeed a painting. A small one, perhaps five inches across and seven inches high, but definitely a painting, done not in oil this time, but pastel water colors: pink and mauve and rose on a white background.
Everyone stared at the small work of art, but Rachel didn’t need to. The minute she’d pulled the last of the plastic away, she had known what she would find. Her nightmare … this time, after the fact. And indeed, that was exactly what she saw in the painting, although she doubted that anyone else would see it in the muted haze of pink and rose and
Bibi’s expression said quite clearly that it wasn’t “nothing.” But Rachel turned the purse over, anyway.
Paper-clipped to the back flap of her purse was a page torn from a small desk calendar. Every day following Sunday had been slashed through with vivid red paint. Scrawled across the top of the page in the same shiny red were the words YOU WILL NEVER SEE ANOTHER MONDAY.
Monday. Tomorrow. She was never going to see tomorrow? Or any other tomorrow?
Holding the defaced calendar page gingerly, Rachel looked up at Bibi. “Is there more inside?” she asked quietly, her voice strained.
Bibi’s blonde ponytail flew as she shook her head. “I didn’t have the guts to look. I don’t think you should, either, Rachel. That message on your purse is enough to take to campus security. Let’s just take the purse and go to the security office and let them look inside, okay?”
Rachel’s expression was grim. “No. It’s my purse. I’ll look.”
“Rachel, you don’t know what’s in there. That’s a threat on the flap. The purse could be booby-trapped or something.”
Rachel uttered a short, harsh laugh. “Booby-trapped? You mean like with a bomb? I thought I was the one with the imagination. I’ll bet there isn’t anything at all inside. Someone is just trying to scare me.” She laughed again, without humor. “Like I’m not already.”
Bibi, her eyes wide, scooted backward on the floor until her back bumped into the desk chair. She sat on the floor, watching.
Rachel picked up the purse, pulled the zipper open, and peered inside. Then, frowning, she slid her fingers inside and when she withdrew them, she was holding a small, white plastic-wrapped package in her hands.
“Rachel, please don’t open that,” Bibi begged. “Please!”
“Oh, come on, Bibi,” Rachel said lightly, dropping the purse on the floor to begin untying the twine around the white plastic, “you know what they say. Good things come in small packages, right?” But her fingers were shaking as she tugged at the twine.
They were so lost in the moment that when a knock came on the door, both jumped and cried out.
“Rachel, it’s Aidan. You in there?”
“And Joseph and Paloma,” Paloma’s voice called. “We’re here, too.”
“And Sam,” Samantha added, laughing.
Bibi sighed with relief and jumped up to let them in. “Now I don’t have to be the only one witnessing the unveiling,” she said over her shoulder as she opened the door. In a rush of words, she told the group what was going on. Her words tumbled out in a jumble that no one grasped.
They were still puzzled as they came inside and saw Rachel sitting on the bed unwrapping the package.
Bibi scooped up the purse and showed them the words scrawled in paint on the calendar page.
Paloma paled visibly, Joseph uttered a quiet oath, Aidan hurried over to Rachel’s side and sat down on the bed beside her, and Samantha said sensibly, “Rachel, you should have just taken that package to security.”
“I told her the same thing,” Bibi said, sitting down on her own bed, “but she wouldn’t listen.”
“I knew it was a painting,” Rachel said as she peeled away the plastic to reveal a small, rectangular object. She held up the object, facing it toward them so they could all see it. “And that’s exactly what it is.”
It was indeed a painting. A small one, perhaps five inches across and seven inches high, but definitely a painting, done not in oil this time, but pastel water colors: pink and mauve and rose on a white background.
Everyone stared at the small work of art, but Rachel didn’t need to. The minute she’d pulled the last of the plastic away, she had known what she would find. Her nightmare … this time, after the fact. And indeed, that was exactly what she saw in the painting, although she doubted that anyone else would see it in the muted haze of pink and rose and
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