Denise Swanson - Murder of a Small-Town Honey

Skye sat in the high school guidance office chewing on the end of her pencil. Her appointment book lay open on the desk, a sprinkle of eraser crumbs scattered like dandruff across its pages. Shit, there is no way I can avoid the junior high. I've got to finish testing Zach today or everything else gets screwed up. She dreaded coming face-to-face with Lloyd after yesterday's confrontation.

The warning bell rang, startling her out of her reverie, and she quickly got ready for her first student. In rapid suc­cession Skye saw a girl with a habit of hiding in the rest room during her afternoon classes, a young man caught wearing gang colors, and three teens who had long-stand­ing problems.

Skye hypothesized that the girl might be bulimic and was hiding in there to make herself vomit or use laxatives after eating lunch, the boy was a wannabe gang member, and the remaining trio probably knew more about therapy than she did. Nevertheless, she put them down for weekly appointments.

Instead of eating lunch, Skye telephoned Loretta Steiner.

The lawyer dispensed with the normal chitchat. "He can

have one visitor from two to four and another in the evening from six to eight."

"You mean both of my parents can't see him? Can one go in for the first hour and another for the second?"

"Probably. Small-town jail. Upstanding local family. Yeah, they'll probably cut you some slack." Loretta paused. "Of course, you could always get some hard-ass guard. No way of telling."

Next Skye called her mother.

May's voice was shrill. "Fine. Then your dad and I are going over right now. I'll trade my shift with another dis­patcher. You can go right after school."

"I'll probably stop at my place so I can change and grab something to eat. I can't get in until six and it's only a forty-five-minute drive."

May snorted and the phone went dead.

Skye wondered why she had even tried to explain. If she was going to survive living in Scumble River, practically on her mother's doorstep, she was going to have to be more selective about what information she shared with her par­ents.

Walking over to the junior high, Skye didn't notice the freshly cut grass or the singing birds. Instead, she planned the best route through the school if she wanted to avoid Lloyd.

When she entered the main hall, she saw that the coast was clear and sprinted to her room. A true sense of accom­plishment filled her as she settled behind her desk. Only then did she realize that if she wanted to see Zach for test­ing she would have to send for him from the main office. The school felt that a telephone for her office was one lux­ury too many.

Skye steeled herself for an attack by Lloyd and went to the office. Ursula was dividing index cards into five differ­ent piles. Skye waited for a break in the action.

Ursula glanced up. "Mr. Stark wants to see you."

"Now?" Skye felt her heart accelerate.

"Yep, said to send you in as soon as you got here."

Skye moved toward the rear of the office and tapped on the partly open door before pushing it open farther. "You wanted to see me?"

Lloyd did not look up from his desk. "Right. Come in and close the door."

She complied, the blood pounding in her ears.

After an interminable wait Lloyd finally put down his pen and looked up. "The superintendent has asked me to let you know that the incident with the boy hosting the sex parties has been resolved per your recommendations and he thanks you for your good work." Lloyd's mouth was pursed as if he had just bitten into a bug.

"Well, ah, thanks for telling me. I wondered what had happened with that case." Skye waited for further direc­tions, but Lloyd picked up the phone and dialed.

She let herself out of his office and walked over to the secretary to continue her original mission. "Ursula."

"Yes?"

"Ah, could you ... ah ... call Zach Van Stee and send him to my office?" Skye stumbled, intimidated by the sec­retary's sharp gaze.

"What class is he in?" Ursula turned toward the inter­com controls, her finger poised over the multicolored levers.

"Ah, I don't know." Skye cringed, expecting the worst.

Ursula jerked her head toward a table by the wall. "Look up his schedule in the box."

She waited impatiently while Skye fingered through the large white cards in the bin indicated. Pulling out Zach's, she looked at it blankly. "I'm sorry, I know this is sixth pe­riod, but there are two different classes listed for him."

"Those are the semester classes. Look at the class marked 'one.'" Ursula sighed loudly. "Semester classes are

marked one or two to indicate which semester the student is taking them."

"He's in Home Economics." Then more quietly to her­self, she added, "I hope."

After thanking Ursula, Skye fled the office. While she waited for Zach, she set up the room for the assessment.

Today she would be administering the Wechsler Individ­ual Achievement Test. Skye routinely gave only six of the eight subtests—the ones measuring reading decoding, read­ing comprehension, spelling, paper-and-pencil math, story problems, and written language. The other two subtests measured language skills, and she felt those were better left to the speech pathologist.

Zach walked in quietly and dumped his backpack on the floor. "Too bad you called me from Home EC. We were making cookies."

"Oh, that is a shame. Would a Tootsie Roll Pop ease your suffering?" Skye reached into a drawer.

"It'd help some," Zach allowed. "What're we going to do today?"

Skye handed him the bag of suckers, and he again se­lected a chocolate one.

She then answered his question. "I'm going to see how good you are at reading, spelling, and math. We're going to start with some story problems. Here's a piece of scratch paper and a pencil. You can use it on all the problems ex­cept the ones I tell you not to. Ready?"

Zach nodded.

"Okay, since you're in sixth grade we'll start with number eleven. Remember, it's just like last time. Some questions will be too easy for you and some will be too hard. It's all right not to know some."

He nodded again.

"Look at the picture of the fish. Find the fourth fish from the aquarium."

They finished the last subtest, written expression, half an

hour before the final bell. Skye had one more part of the testing to complete with Zach, the clinical interview.

"That's it for this test, Zach. Now I'd like to ask you some questions about you and how you feel about things. Then we'll be done."

"What kinda questions?" Zach asked warily.

"Stuff like, When's your birthday?"

"That's easy. November twenty-third." Zach grinned.

"Do you know the year?"

Things were going smoothly until Skye asked, "If you had three wishes, what would you wish for?"

"Three more wishes," Zach answered promptly.

"What would be the first three things you would ask for with all your wishes?" Skye attempted to pin him down.

"More wishes."

She gave up, recognizing this as a typical preadolescent response.

With a few more questions and answers Skye finished the interview and handed him a piece of unlined paper. "Here's a sheet of blank paper. Draw a picture of a com­plete person."

"I'm not very good at drawing. Can it be a stick figure?"

"Make it as complete as you can. Just do the best you're able to."

Zach turned the page several times before settling down to work. He finished the drawing moments before the final bell. Standing, he picked up his backpack. "Will I see you again?"

Skye smiled. "I'll be visiting your class to see how your teacher teaches you, but you won't need to come here again."

"Oh." Zach hovered in the doorway. "This was sorta fun."

"You did a good job for me. I appreciate how hard you worked."