Suspicious Origin by MacDonald Patricia

Author:MacDonald, Patricia [MacDonald, Patricia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: USA
Publisher: New York : Atria Books
Published: 2003-10-21T13:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Three

Britt studied the student artwork and hand-printed essays that were taped to the walls of the corridor. The theme of the artwork was obviously masks, for the beige walls were decorated with wildly colored, shield-shaped faces with strings hanging from the spot where ears might normally be. The essays were all entitled, “Things about myself that I hide from the world.” Despite the provocative title, few of the essayists revealed any startling secrets. Britt searched for Zoe’s name and read her offering. Like her classmates, Zoe admitted to minor transgressions, such as buying candy bars with her lunch money, and failing to study for spelling tests. But her last sentence pierced Britt to the heart. “I don’t let people know it if I’m sad,” Zoe wrote. She must have written this before Greta’s death, Britt thought. Before she found out what sadness really is.

“Miss Andersen?”

Britt turned and met the worried, sympathetic gaze of Zoe’s teacher, a pretty brunette wearing a shapeless jumper.

“Here she is.”

Britt gazed at Zoe who emerged from her classroom dragging the pink parka and wearing her backpack. Mrs. Porter said, “If there’s anything I can do…”

“Thanks,” said Britt. “We’ll be okay.”

Barbara Porter nodded and ducked back into the classroom, closing the door behind her.

Zoe was staring at Britt’s hands, which were wrapped in gauze. “Was that where you got burned?”

Britt glanced down at her hands and flexed them gingerly. “It’s all right, Zoe. I’m all right.”

“Does it hurt?” Zoe asked.

“Not too bad,” Britt lied. She had a sudden, horrible recollection of the searing pain as her hand closed around the doorknob and she realized that the heat of the fire had traveled through the metal. She’d grasped it anyway, felt the skin of her palms adhering to the brass as she pulled on it, needing to free herself.

Zoe frowned. “I wanted to come and see you in the hospital but Dad said we’d see you when you got out. I can’t believe you were in a fire, too.”

“Yes, it’s…crazy, isn’t it?” said Britt. Although crazy was not exactly how she remembered it. The thick, acrid smoke choking her. The sound of sirens. Her memory of it was garbled. She remembered seeing the white newsvan, and hearing men shouting as fire engines and emergency vehicles arrived. Britt could recall standing barefoot in the snow in her pajamas, her teeth chattering uncontrollably. Someone draped a blanket around her and someone else rushed into Bayberry House to find something for her feet. The only familiar face looming out of the darkness was Dean Webster’s, who jumped out of the white newsvan and came running up to her and threw his arms around her. She was lucky to be alive. Luckier than her sister had been.

Zoe looked up at her. “Why are you here? Why do I have to leave school?”

Britt reached an arm out and tried to slip it around Zoe’s shoulders, but the girl backed away from her.

Britt sighed. All the way over here, she’d been trying to figure out the words to use.

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