Read Online Prey by Stefan Petrucha - Free Book Online

there was something else, something under his chin that didn’t look like it belonged. Thin and long, shredded at one end, it practically glowed against the clay gray of his skin. Curious, she stepped closer to the Plexiglas for a look.
    In a second, her mind pieced together what it was and seized on the sight with its own reptile jaws.
    Under Koko’s chin were what looked just like the remains of a pink and silver dog collar.
    Shivering, Chelsea stumbled backward, nearly knocking over a garbage pail full of plastic bags soaked in rats’ blood. She raced up the stairs, grabbed her jacket and fumbled with the keys, nearly breaking the one that finally set her free.
    She heard the door click behind her, vaguely remembering she hadn’t bothered to draw back the drapes. But by then she’d tossed her coat over her handle bars, hopped on her bike and started pedaling, as fast as she could, past the yellow-coated woman still shouting “Aristotle! Aristotle!” past the corner shop, and past all the houses, where she counted every window, every door, in the mistaken belief it would make what she’d seen just go away.
    She couldn’t have really seen it. She couldn’t have. Could she?
    Yes. It ate the dog.
    Though freezing by the time she got home, she didn’t even wait for the water to heat up. She leaped into the shower and ran the bar of soap up and down her body in staccato pulses to wash off all the invisible rat and dog blood.
    By the time she emerged, an hour later, Chelsea was together enough to lie to her parents about how things went. But they knew. She heard the heated whispers of their exchange. Mother wanted to pry, but Dad insisted they hew to their agreement to let their daughter sort it out herself, with the understanding she would ask for their help when she needed it.
    The next day, Chelsea’s parents were gone until evening, so they never found out that after they’d said good-bye in the morning, Chelsea didn’t come out of her room until dinner.

5
    â€œWhat do you mean you can’t do your bio midterm right now?”
    Eve Mandisa’s substitute, a retired elementary schoolteacher named Kreeger, looked up from her New York Times crossword puzzle and glared at Chelsea. It was not possible for a human face to look more irritated.
    She didn’t say it softly. Everyone in the classroom looked up from their work. Those who knew Chelsea shuddered for her. Chelsea, meanwhile, tried to explain. She spoke quietly, to maintain some semblance of dignity, but that only seemed to irritate Mrs. Kreeger all the more.
    â€œOCP? You have OCP? What’s that supposed tobe? Some club? These are the midterms, dear. Don’t take the test, you fail the class.”
    Chelsea made her voice louder, still hoping to keep it low enough so that at least the back rows didn’t hear. “Obsessive compulsive disorder. It’s in my file. I’m allowed to delay or reschedule the test if I have to. And I have to.”
    The older woman strained to make sense of her words. “Allowed? I don’t know where your file is. Just sit down, please, until the time is up.”
    â€œMs. Mandisa keeps our files in the upper right drawer.”
    Mrs. Kreeger looked around as if she might actually open the drawer, but apparently decided it was too much trouble to push her chair away from the desk and bend. “Maybe you should just get yourself some water and try again. Everyone gets nervous now and then.”
    Chelsea wavered, but held her ground. “This is different.”
    As if affronted, Kreeger tossed the Times crossword puzzle down on the desk and turned her wide, frumpy body toward Chelsea. “You’re not a child anymore. What are you going to do when you have some real pressure in a job?”
    Chelsea stared at her. “Get fired, I suppose.”
    She didn’t say it meanly. Didn’t even mean to be rude. Thankfully, something in Kreeger