the time Veronica got home, she was ready for bed. It was only six thirty. Some days were like that.
Binky rubbed himself back and forth against her legs until she caved and refilled the cat food dishes with kibble. Harry gazed at her wistfully, his thoughts of a walk filling his glistening brown eyes.
“Sorry, buddy. Mommy’s too tired,” she told him. She sat on the couch with her microwaved teriyaki chicken dinner and watched part of an episode of I Love Lucy she had DVRed. She almost fell asleep on the couch with Blossom, her white cat, curled up on her lap, but she managed to find the will to get up and make it to her bed before she developed a serious crick in her neck.
Paintings of angels covered her bedroom walls. She had done them all. Seeing them reminded her that she still needed to complete the one commissioned by an English teacher at Eleanor Roosevelt. It was her first commissioned painting, but with the injury to her arm, she hadn’t been able to work on it for very long at a time before getting tired. She’d have to find some time for it this week, as well. Veronica sighed. So let’s go down the list , she thought. I need to prevent a suicide, find a kidnapped girl but make sure her family doesn’t kill her, finish a painting, and get all of my grading done for the end of the quarter. Sounds doable .
She groaned and threw herself face down on the bed. Why couldn’t she just have a normal life?
~~~
The room had little light. She leaned on a windowsill that overlooked a street. She lit matches from a pack and let them burn down, dropping them into a can of store-brand cola as they scorched her fingers. The game was to see how long she could hold each match before the pain made her drop it.
Another Lola dream, Veronica realized. If only it could be a dream of Amani Ahmad, so she could help Khalilah find her. Lola Hekili? Why dream of her?
As far as she could tell, she was alone, but Veronica could only see through Lola’s eyes. Her attention was so focused on the matches, it made it hard to be sure.
A silent, black cellphone lay on the windowsill just a few inches away from the can of cola. In her field of vision she saw a bed with a pile of clothes on it. A wrapper of some kind fluttered on the floor. Not a lot of sounds. Was she alone in the house?
The cellphone’s display lit up a moment before it started to vibrate where it lay. She dropped the latest match—only half burnt—into the can, and grabbed the phone. The display said “Shelby.” Her heart quickened.
She held the phone for a moment, feeling the vibrations in her tender, singed fingertips. Veronica wondered what she was waiting for. At last, she hit the talk button and put the phone to her ear.
“Hey,” she said in a bored voice.
“Hey,” a girl’s voice answered. “I’m at the curb. Can you get out?”
“No problem. Be there in a minute.”
She hung up the phone, her heart thumping. Why? She looked around the room. Veronica took it all in with curiosity. What a mess: laundry and trash everywhere. She stepped to the closed door and leaned against it, listening. Faintly, she could hear the sounds of a television. She tiptoed back to the window and opened it quietly.
So Lola was going to sneak out. That explained her heart rate.
Veronica could see a little roof just beneath the window, probably over a side door into the house. She climbed out of the window and lowered herself until her feet touched the roof. She stood on the slope, steadying herself by holding on to the windowsill. The drop now was only ten or twelve feet. She eased her way to the edge and jumped. Veronica wondered how she would get back up again. Maybe she’d just use the door. Maybe everyone would be in bed?
Lola jogged away from her house and onto the sidewalk. In a few minutes she saw the blonde girl Veronica had thought of as “Pouty” waiting at a corner. So her name was Shelby. Veronica was fairly sure that she didn’t go to Eleanor
Binky rubbed himself back and forth against her legs until she caved and refilled the cat food dishes with kibble. Harry gazed at her wistfully, his thoughts of a walk filling his glistening brown eyes.
“Sorry, buddy. Mommy’s too tired,” she told him. She sat on the couch with her microwaved teriyaki chicken dinner and watched part of an episode of I Love Lucy she had DVRed. She almost fell asleep on the couch with Blossom, her white cat, curled up on her lap, but she managed to find the will to get up and make it to her bed before she developed a serious crick in her neck.
Paintings of angels covered her bedroom walls. She had done them all. Seeing them reminded her that she still needed to complete the one commissioned by an English teacher at Eleanor Roosevelt. It was her first commissioned painting, but with the injury to her arm, she hadn’t been able to work on it for very long at a time before getting tired. She’d have to find some time for it this week, as well. Veronica sighed. So let’s go down the list , she thought. I need to prevent a suicide, find a kidnapped girl but make sure her family doesn’t kill her, finish a painting, and get all of my grading done for the end of the quarter. Sounds doable .
She groaned and threw herself face down on the bed. Why couldn’t she just have a normal life?
~~~
The room had little light. She leaned on a windowsill that overlooked a street. She lit matches from a pack and let them burn down, dropping them into a can of store-brand cola as they scorched her fingers. The game was to see how long she could hold each match before the pain made her drop it.
Another Lola dream, Veronica realized. If only it could be a dream of Amani Ahmad, so she could help Khalilah find her. Lola Hekili? Why dream of her?
As far as she could tell, she was alone, but Veronica could only see through Lola’s eyes. Her attention was so focused on the matches, it made it hard to be sure.
A silent, black cellphone lay on the windowsill just a few inches away from the can of cola. In her field of vision she saw a bed with a pile of clothes on it. A wrapper of some kind fluttered on the floor. Not a lot of sounds. Was she alone in the house?
The cellphone’s display lit up a moment before it started to vibrate where it lay. She dropped the latest match—only half burnt—into the can, and grabbed the phone. The display said “Shelby.” Her heart quickened.
She held the phone for a moment, feeling the vibrations in her tender, singed fingertips. Veronica wondered what she was waiting for. At last, she hit the talk button and put the phone to her ear.
“Hey,” she said in a bored voice.
“Hey,” a girl’s voice answered. “I’m at the curb. Can you get out?”
“No problem. Be there in a minute.”
She hung up the phone, her heart thumping. Why? She looked around the room. Veronica took it all in with curiosity. What a mess: laundry and trash everywhere. She stepped to the closed door and leaned against it, listening. Faintly, she could hear the sounds of a television. She tiptoed back to the window and opened it quietly.
So Lola was going to sneak out. That explained her heart rate.
Veronica could see a little roof just beneath the window, probably over a side door into the house. She climbed out of the window and lowered herself until her feet touched the roof. She stood on the slope, steadying herself by holding on to the windowsill. The drop now was only ten or twelve feet. She eased her way to the edge and jumped. Veronica wondered how she would get back up again. Maybe she’d just use the door. Maybe everyone would be in bed?
Lola jogged away from her house and onto the sidewalk. In a few minutes she saw the blonde girl Veronica had thought of as “Pouty” waiting at a corner. So her name was Shelby. Veronica was fairly sure that she didn’t go to Eleanor
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