Deadly Little Lessons by Laurie Faria Stolarz

Author:Laurie Faria Stolarz [Stolarz, Laurie Faria]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Speculative Fiction Suspense, Fiction - Young Adult, cookie429, Kat, Extratorrents
ISBN: 9781423131625
Publisher: Hyperion
Published: 2011-12-31T13:00:00+00:00

BACK IN MY ROOM, I glance at my suitcase, not yet unpacked. I still have to go through my orientation paperwork. Mom’s cooler full of fruit and nut bars is sitting on my desk, unopened. It’s like I’m only half here, half into my art, mostly because I’m half afraid of sculpting something new.

A few months back, Spencer advised me to give myself over to my sculpture, to form whatever it was my clump of clay wanted to be, and not to feel compelled to force it into any predetermined shape.

But what if the sole purpose of my clay is to reveal a clue about somebody else’s future? What if I’m never able to sculpt normally again? Is wanting to do so selfish, especially since my premonitions have proven to be helpful?

After several moments of brooding, I force myself to unpack my suitcase. With each item that I place into a drawer or hang in the closet, I start to feel a little less sorry for myself, a little more in control.

That is, until I see my aunt’s journal, the last thing I take out of the suitcase. The spine is all weathered and frayed, and there are pen-mark tracks etched into the cardboard. I flip it open and run my fingers over the pages—over her years of documented misery. Having it now—holding it, reading it, and seeing the way she wrote the words—takes on a whole new meaning, because she’s no longer just my aunt, and if she’d succeeded in ending her life, I wouldn’t even be here right now.

My cell phone rings. I get up to retrieve it from my bed, frustrated that the number is blocked. I answer it, thinking that it may be Mrs. Beckerman.

“Is this Camelia Hammond?” a female voice asks.

“Yes,” I say. “Who’s this?”

“We need to talk.”

“Who is this?” I repeat.

“You need to go to the bakery at the end of Chansky Street. Look for the bright red mailbox at the side of the building. There will be something for you inside it.”

“Wait, is this a joke?” I snap.

“That depends. Do you think Sasha Beckerman’s life is a joke?”

My mouth opens, but no words come out.

“I didn’t think so,” she says, answering for me.

“Do you know where Sasha is?”

“Haven’t you heard? She ran away. They found a note. They even found her packed bag.”

“Then why are you calling me?”

She laughs. “You think you’re pretty clever, don’t you?”

“Are you the girl who was following me earlier…in the dark green Buick?”

“Don’t listen to what the skeptics say,” she says, skirting the question. “Just because Sasha left her bag behind doesn’t mean that she didn’t run away. Could be a million reasons why she didn’t take it. Maybe wherever she was going, she knew she didn’t need those things. Maybe opportunity knocked before she could get back home to retrieve any of her belongings. Or maybe the suitcase was staged—a cry for help, only no one answered that cry, and so she ended up leaving anyway. You know what a heartless bitch Mrs.

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