Sighing, I took a seat and set my comic book down beside me—I slipped the corner under my leg so the wind wouldn’t take it, and switched on the radio.
Static. A bit of Phil Collins. More static.
I tugged the antenna out to full length and slowly pointed it in various directions.
The wind kicked.
Static.
Then Phil Collins again, loud and clear,Suss, suss, sudio.
“You’re on my bench.”
I hadn’t heard her walk up, yet there she was, standing about five feet in front of me in a long, black peacoat.
“Move.”
I started to get up. My heart pounded so heavily in my chest, I couldn’t think. My face flushed. Instead, I sat up straight and pursed my lips in the most defiant pose I could muster. “No.”
She shrugged and sat at the opposite end, smoothing her skirt beneath her thick coat.
The SUV was parked at the far end of the access road, further away than last time. The woman in the long white coat with even whiter hair stood beside the vehicle. Another woman, also in a long white coat, stood beside her. Both were watching us, watching me.
“How have you been, John Edward Jack Thatch?”
“Okay, I guess.”
“You’re not sure whether or not you’re okay? Seems to me your current state should be as easy to determine as the weather.”
“I’m fine.”
“And your parents? Both still dead, I presume?”
“I read it.”
“Read what?”
I pulled my comic book out from under my leg and slid it across the bench to her.
She ran a gloved hand over the cover and frowned. “You read some rubbish calledTeenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and I’m supposed to be impressed? Issue number one, no less. To think there might be more.”
When I reached over to open the comic, the girl pulled her hand away with such a quickness, the movement was a blur to me. I noticed a hint of embarrassment in her face, but it was gone in an instant. I opened the comic book to the center, revealing my copy ofGreat Expectations. The one I had yet to return to Ms. Leech.
Her eyes lit up at this.
The two women in white coats had edged closer and were moving closer still. They both stopped when I looked up at them. My eyes drifted to the edge of their coats, searching for a gun barrel like the one I had spotted the last time, but I saw nothing. Even as the wind kicked up and took hold, I saw nothing. Maybe I had imagined the gun.
“Did you understand it?” the girl said, still looking at my book.
“I read it twice,” I admitted. “The first time, I had to look up a lot of the words and some of the dialogue was hard. It was easier the second time.”
She leaned back and looked down at the book in her hand, alsoGreat Expectations. “I’ve read it twelve times now. When I finish tomorrow, it will be thirteen.”
“Why not read something else?”
“What’s the point? There is nothing better.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’ve read lots of books. I like some of them plenty better.”
