Snow Globes and Hand Grenades by Kevin Killeen

a cutaway view of his tendons and organs. The only other thing on the walls was the eye chart behind the desk. Detective Kurtz grabbed the metal coil neck of the desk lamp and twisted it to cast a harsh light in Mimi’s face. Then he sat down and stared into her eyes
    â€œHow are you feeling just now?” he began.
    â€œSpecial.”
    â€œSpecial?” Kurtz’s eyes widened.
    Mimi knew right away “special” had been the wrong word to start with. It sprung to her lips from her satisfaction with how well things had been going since being dumped on the golf course. Patrick had saved her from having her guts blown out by the hand grenade, and she had successfully switched the fake letters, fooling her whole family. Neither her older sister nor her younger brother could have done half so well. Not only that, Tony liked her and he and Patrick had both crowned her Number One at the top of the pyramid. For once, she was in charge of something big and even more elaborate than a Chopin piano piece or a basketball game. She was on a winning streak that put her beyond the reach of the detective or the priest. Her main problem—right this very instant—was not concealing any nervousness. She felt none. Instead she had to conceal her confidence. To her way of thinking, it was the Father Ernst and Detective Kurtz who should feel nervous. After all, they were just ordinary adults. They didn’t know what kind of girl they were dealing with.
    â€œOh maybe that’s the wrong word. Maybe I should say ‘honored’. Yes, I feel honored that you called on me first, as if I’m anybody.”
    â€œTell us about yourself,” Father Ernst said folding his hands in a prayerful pose.
    â€œMe? Oh, there’s not much to tell. I’m just an average girl.”
    â€œHave you got a boyfriend?” Father Ernst asked.
    â€œNo, not me. I’m too young for all that. Besides, I’ve got too much homework. I want to keep my grades up because I’m going to Holy Footsteps next year.”
    â€œWhy did you raise your hand?” Detective Kurtz said suddenly. “You were the first one to raise your hand when we asked who took the snow globe.”
    Mimi tipped her head left and right to look flighty and shallow. “I don’t know. I’ve been asking myself the same question. Why? Why? Why? Whew, I guess, I just … wanted to see what the reaction would be. I get bored sometimes.”
    â€œBored?” Father Ernst asked. He swallowed with a dry mouth out of empathy for the nervousness he supposed Mimi was feeling.
    â€œYes, that’s a fault of mine. I get bored. Eighth grade just doesn’t seem to matter.” She sighed and held her face bored, wondering how to come up with a good explanation for her fake boredom.
    â€œPlease, tell us why you’re bored,” Father Ernst said. “We want to understand what you’re thinking.”
    â€œWell, it’s hard to say.” Mimi had nothing to share. But then she remembered something Patrick said on the golf course and threw that in to sound deep. “I’ve been thinking. It’s like we’re all being held up in a pen, a big stone building of a pen with different rooms, and they’re moving the kids through slowly, one year at a time. Society isn’t ready for eighth graders yet, so they keep us in waiting and we’ve been at this school for eight years, really nine years, if you count the kindergarten house out back. It can get awfully dull. So along comes this mystery about the missing snow globe, and I guess I just got so bored I raised my hand looking for some excitement.”
    â€œAre you excited to be here now?” Detective Kurtz asked. Mimi could tell by the way he asked that he thought she was lying, and that was okay.
    â€œNot really,” she shrugged uncrossing her legs and swinging them off the edge of the chair. “I mean this is better than history,