Now, she realized that it had been unlike Dinah to be so critical. She must have been really upset about her grade in Dr. Stark’s class.
But then, why not? Hadn’t they all been? Tandy was the only one who’d defended Dr. Stark.
“Let me know if you change your mind about the movie,” Coop said as he left Shea on the steps of the campus library. “I’ll be at the lab all morning. You can call me there.”
At the mention of the lab, her face must have paled, because he quickly added, “Shea? What’s wrong?”
“Headache,” she said quickly. “See you.” She turned to run up the steps and inside the dim, cool library, where she could sit and think in privacy.
She stayed in the library for a while, until she began to feel as if she were suffocating. Then she went out and hiked along the river behind campus. It amazed her that people passing by called out to her, wanted to stop and talk, asked her about her weekend plans. As if she were still the same, normal, popular person she’d been when the week began. Couldn’t they see that she wasn’t?
Later that day she played tennis with Tandy, who finally became so exasperated with Shea’s sloppy, erratic playing that she threw down her racket in despair.
While playing, Shea remembered how often they’d seen Dr. Stark on the courts. Although the teacher had exchanged the dowdy print dresses for tennis whites, her hair was still severely pulled back from her face, her mouth set in a grim, straight line as she fought to win. She had never looked to Shea as if she were having any fun at all.
Shea couldn’t help thinking then that Dr. Stark might never play tennis again. The thought had depressed her so profoundly, she’d missed a perfect serve from Tandy, who had groaned and given her a disgusted look.
Later, she had dinner with Tandy and Linda Carlyle at Hunan Manor in town, but turned down their invitation to attend a sorority party with them. Then she went back to her room to lie on her bed and watch the hands on her clock radio approaching the time when she would have to leave for the lab.
Suddenly she found herself standing outside the door to the Animal Behavior Studies lab, her hand on the round brass knob.
The hallway was dark and deserted, the building quiet. The teachers and teaching assistants and laboratory technicians and student volunteers, like Coop and Sid, were, at the witching hour on a spring night, partying or watching television or seeing a movie or listening to music or reading or, maybe, sleeping. The reptiles and the spiders and the mice and the rats were, like her, on their own.
There was no sound from inside the lab.
Shea turned the knob and the door, unlocked as the whisperer had promised, opened.
When she had closed the door behind her, she switched on her small plastic flashlight. She had never been in the lab before. Forcing herself to take a few slow deep breaths, she glanced around, using the flashlight to study the room.
There were the mice, in their cages on tables to her right, the larger rats in cages beside them.
She moved hesitantly into the room until she was standing beside a long, narrow table with a bottom shelf. She saw the bags on the shelf before she could work up the courage to study the table’s contents.
Cages. Two, three, four.
Glass, like aquariums. With covers, also glass.
Shea closed her eyes. She couldn’t look.
How was she going to carry out her “assignment”?
You have to do this, she told herself. You have no choice. So just do it and get it over with!
Shea opened her eyes. Nothing stirred in any of the cages. She was grateful for that much. A sleeping snake was preferable to an alert, slithering one, its narrow, forked little tongue spitting at her in defiance.
She located the cage housing the snake named Mariah. All coiled up like a spring in a corner of its cage. She drew in her breath when she spied the rattle at one end, but quickly reminded herself that the snake had been rendered
But then, why not? Hadn’t they all been? Tandy was the only one who’d defended Dr. Stark.
“Let me know if you change your mind about the movie,” Coop said as he left Shea on the steps of the campus library. “I’ll be at the lab all morning. You can call me there.”
At the mention of the lab, her face must have paled, because he quickly added, “Shea? What’s wrong?”
“Headache,” she said quickly. “See you.” She turned to run up the steps and inside the dim, cool library, where she could sit and think in privacy.
She stayed in the library for a while, until she began to feel as if she were suffocating. Then she went out and hiked along the river behind campus. It amazed her that people passing by called out to her, wanted to stop and talk, asked her about her weekend plans. As if she were still the same, normal, popular person she’d been when the week began. Couldn’t they see that she wasn’t?
Later that day she played tennis with Tandy, who finally became so exasperated with Shea’s sloppy, erratic playing that she threw down her racket in despair.
While playing, Shea remembered how often they’d seen Dr. Stark on the courts. Although the teacher had exchanged the dowdy print dresses for tennis whites, her hair was still severely pulled back from her face, her mouth set in a grim, straight line as she fought to win. She had never looked to Shea as if she were having any fun at all.
Shea couldn’t help thinking then that Dr. Stark might never play tennis again. The thought had depressed her so profoundly, she’d missed a perfect serve from Tandy, who had groaned and given her a disgusted look.
Later, she had dinner with Tandy and Linda Carlyle at Hunan Manor in town, but turned down their invitation to attend a sorority party with them. Then she went back to her room to lie on her bed and watch the hands on her clock radio approaching the time when she would have to leave for the lab.
Suddenly she found herself standing outside the door to the Animal Behavior Studies lab, her hand on the round brass knob.
The hallway was dark and deserted, the building quiet. The teachers and teaching assistants and laboratory technicians and student volunteers, like Coop and Sid, were, at the witching hour on a spring night, partying or watching television or seeing a movie or listening to music or reading or, maybe, sleeping. The reptiles and the spiders and the mice and the rats were, like her, on their own.
There was no sound from inside the lab.
Shea turned the knob and the door, unlocked as the whisperer had promised, opened.
When she had closed the door behind her, she switched on her small plastic flashlight. She had never been in the lab before. Forcing herself to take a few slow deep breaths, she glanced around, using the flashlight to study the room.
There were the mice, in their cages on tables to her right, the larger rats in cages beside them.
She moved hesitantly into the room until she was standing beside a long, narrow table with a bottom shelf. She saw the bags on the shelf before she could work up the courage to study the table’s contents.
Cages. Two, three, four.
Glass, like aquariums. With covers, also glass.
Shea closed her eyes. She couldn’t look.
How was she going to carry out her “assignment”?
You have to do this, she told herself. You have no choice. So just do it and get it over with!
Shea opened her eyes. Nothing stirred in any of the cages. She was grateful for that much. A sleeping snake was preferable to an alert, slithering one, its narrow, forked little tongue spitting at her in defiance.
She located the cage housing the snake named Mariah. All coiled up like a spring in a corner of its cage. She drew in her breath when she spied the rattle at one end, but quickly reminded herself that the snake had been rendered
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