recognized that. She grunted, opened the drawer and asked Chelsea her last name. Chelsea spelled it as she pointed to her file. A summary of the 504 was taped to the front, the important details highlighted in yellow. Chelsea felt a surge of profound love for her bio teacher, even if the woman did have strange tastes in pets.
And her pet had stranger tastes still.
Kreeger blasted air through her nose. âFine. I guess itâs not up to me. Youâre excused. But Iâm not going to be the one sitting here when you retake the test whenever you please.â
Thank God, Chelsea thought as she nearly ran out of the room.
Kreeger was saying something else at her back, but Chelsea didnât bother to listen, she just raced into the long, empty corridor, rubbing her temples and trying to stop her heart from hammering. When running felt silly, she put her head against the cool tile wall, trapping bits of blonde bangs between it and her skin.
Then she practiced her deep yoga breathing.
She hadnât told a soul about her last visit with Koko, but the image of the pink dog collar sittingunder those big, hand-like claws burned inside her, so hot, it felt like it would sear through her forehead and come dancing out into the air in front of her.
Why had the first question on the test involved a pink line on a bar graph? It was bio, for pityâs sake, not math! And why that shade of pink? She thought she might get away with the test, but once she saw the color, once her mind pronounced its name, it was all over. Was it the same shade as the leash or had she imagined it?
She pulled out her cell phone, flipped it open, ignored the message alerts, and considered, for the twentieth time, dialing the local police. Sheâd looked the number up so many times, she put it on her speed dial. It wasnât a 911 call, after all. It wasnât like they could pull Aristotle back out.
And what would happen if she did call? What would happen if she told some world-weary desk clerk that the monitor lizard she was taking care of had eaten a dog? Could she sound sincere or sane enough to get them to pay attention? And if someone met her at the house and she brought them down to that basement room, and it was all true, what would happen to Ms. Mandisa? Was it legal to keep a six-foot, dog-eating lizard?
Beyond that, what if it wasnât true? What if the lizard hadnât really eaten the dog? It didnât make sense, after all, and the lack of sense was a major warning sign that the OCD was in charge, yanking her crank. That she really was crazy.
With all the windows barred, Aristotle couldnât have gotten into the house, let alone the cage, and with all that thick Plexiglas, Koko couldnât have gotten out. So was it really a leash she saw? It was entirely possible, calm and happy as sheâd been at that moment, that sheâd imagined it, that the light from the heating bulbs caught a stick or leaf in just such a way that her mind contrived the rest.
That had to be it. Aristotle was probably safe at home right now this very minute in the arms of his fashion-challenged owner. Had to be.
Sigh. It was the same damn conversation sheâd been having with herself since yesterday, the same talking points, over and over, only instead of counting the books on her shelves, or the Cheerios floating in her milk, now she was counting the tiles on the Bilsford High School walls.
The reason she kept going around with it wasnât her condition. It was the conclusion. It was always the same, and it was the one thing she longed to avoidmost of all. If she couldnât be certain of what sheâd seen, she had to go back and figure out whether it had really happened or not. She had to take another look, and maybe even use the claw to pull out the thing that looked like a leash, to make sure it wasnât.
An image flashed, pieces of Mingâof Aristotleâstill attached to the collar, coming out from under
And her pet had stranger tastes still.
Kreeger blasted air through her nose. âFine. I guess itâs not up to me. Youâre excused. But Iâm not going to be the one sitting here when you retake the test whenever you please.â
Thank God, Chelsea thought as she nearly ran out of the room.
Kreeger was saying something else at her back, but Chelsea didnât bother to listen, she just raced into the long, empty corridor, rubbing her temples and trying to stop her heart from hammering. When running felt silly, she put her head against the cool tile wall, trapping bits of blonde bangs between it and her skin.
Then she practiced her deep yoga breathing.
She hadnât told a soul about her last visit with Koko, but the image of the pink dog collar sittingunder those big, hand-like claws burned inside her, so hot, it felt like it would sear through her forehead and come dancing out into the air in front of her.
Why had the first question on the test involved a pink line on a bar graph? It was bio, for pityâs sake, not math! And why that shade of pink? She thought she might get away with the test, but once she saw the color, once her mind pronounced its name, it was all over. Was it the same shade as the leash or had she imagined it?
She pulled out her cell phone, flipped it open, ignored the message alerts, and considered, for the twentieth time, dialing the local police. Sheâd looked the number up so many times, she put it on her speed dial. It wasnât a 911 call, after all. It wasnât like they could pull Aristotle back out.
And what would happen if she did call? What would happen if she told some world-weary desk clerk that the monitor lizard she was taking care of had eaten a dog? Could she sound sincere or sane enough to get them to pay attention? And if someone met her at the house and she brought them down to that basement room, and it was all true, what would happen to Ms. Mandisa? Was it legal to keep a six-foot, dog-eating lizard?
Beyond that, what if it wasnât true? What if the lizard hadnât really eaten the dog? It didnât make sense, after all, and the lack of sense was a major warning sign that the OCD was in charge, yanking her crank. That she really was crazy.
With all the windows barred, Aristotle couldnât have gotten into the house, let alone the cage, and with all that thick Plexiglas, Koko couldnât have gotten out. So was it really a leash she saw? It was entirely possible, calm and happy as sheâd been at that moment, that sheâd imagined it, that the light from the heating bulbs caught a stick or leaf in just such a way that her mind contrived the rest.
That had to be it. Aristotle was probably safe at home right now this very minute in the arms of his fashion-challenged owner. Had to be.
Sigh. It was the same damn conversation sheâd been having with herself since yesterday, the same talking points, over and over, only instead of counting the books on her shelves, or the Cheerios floating in her milk, now she was counting the tiles on the Bilsford High School walls.
The reason she kept going around with it wasnât her condition. It was the conclusion. It was always the same, and it was the one thing she longed to avoidmost of all. If she couldnât be certain of what sheâd seen, she had to go back and figure out whether it had really happened or not. She had to take another look, and maybe even use the claw to pull out the thing that looked like a leash, to make sure it wasnât.
An image flashed, pieces of Mingâof Aristotleâstill attached to the collar, coming out from under
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