Reality Check (2010) by Abrahams Peter

Author:Abrahams, Peter [Peter, Abrahams,]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperTeen
Published: 2011-01-14T19:06:34.031000+00:00

CODY'S FIRST RESPONSE wasn't very logical. "You found her?"

he said. The light still glared on Mrs. McTeague's glasses, a pearly sheen that hid her eyes. "Oh dear me, no," she said. "What with all this snow, it's apparently not realistic to think of finding anything."

Cody didn't get that at all. What difference did snow make if Clea was holed up in a cave, or some cranny in the rocks, as Sergeant Orton believed? Wasn't that Sergeant Orton's true belief? He tried to go over their last conversation, Cody standing in the cold beside the cruiser, the sergeant talking to him through the open window. All Cody remembered clearly was Sergeant Orton's probing gaze. At that moment a realization struck him, abrupt and hard: Sergeant Orton didn't believe Clea was holed up in some natural shelter--that wasn't his true belief at all. They were no longer looking for a living person. That was why searching after the snowfall made no sense.

Cody felt his face growing hot. They were wrong, pure and simple. "Does Mr. Stein know about this?" he said.

"Mr. Stein?" Mrs. McTeague said, looking confused. "Yes, certainly--a school-wide email went out first thing this morning. Why do you ask?"

Why did he ask? Because, goddamn it, Mr. Stein had said that Clea was resourceful; bright and resourceful, to quote. And not just that, but she was tough, too, strong and physical, unfazed by things that fazed other girls--and some boys--like taking that long leap at the Black Rocks quarry. Cody kept all that to himself--too complicated to explain, at least for him-- and just shrugged.

Mrs. McTeague reached for the mounted photo of Clea, the one with him missing from the right-hand side, and laid it facedown in the cardboard box. "So," she said, "about that job?"

Cody thought: I'm missing from the picture, and now Clea's missing, period. "Yeah," he said. "I'm interested."

"Wonderful," said Mrs. McTeague. "Welcome aboard." They shook hands; Mrs. McTeague's hand was soft and warm, her grip not strong at all. "If you'll help me load these boxes in my car, I'll show you the ropes."

Mrs. McTeague showed Cody the ropes. "Mostly," she said, "you'll just be assisting Ike." "Means muckin' out," said Ike, following along behind them, a three-pronged rake his hand. Cody wasn't afraid of mucking out; he'd done it before, helping Clea in Bud's paddock at Cottonwood.

Mrs. McTeague went over the chores: feeding and watering the horses, walking them, answering the phone, fire prevention, a few others he didn't catch the first time around. "This is the tack room," said Mrs. McTeague. "The competitive season is over now, but the riders still come to the barn three or four times a week to exercise the horses. They're responsible for saddling their own mounts, so you don't have to worry about that. Here's a list of important numbers, starting with 911 of course, and the vet." Cody scanned the list. Number three read Chef d'Equipe. Perhaps Mrs. McTeague saw him pause there, guessed his confusion. "That's the coach," she said.

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