Highly Illogical Behavior - John Corey Whaley Page 0,2
looking for the fountain kid, despite thinking about him from time to time and wondering where he’d ended up. But the second she realized she’d found him, she knew she had to get to him as soon as possible. And the only way to do that was to make an appointment with his mom. At the very least, Lisa would get a nice teeth cleaning and a free toothbrush. At the very best, she’d make all her dreams come true.
“So, where do you go to school?” Dr. Valerie Reed asked as she sat down to examine Lisa’s teeth. It was March twenty-fourth, a Tuesday, and Lisa was having a really hard time not asking a million questions about Solomon.
“Upland High. Are you Solomon’s mother?”
“Yes,” she answered, slightly taken aback.
“I went to junior high with him. His picture’s on the wall,” she smiled, pointing across the room to a photograph of Valerie, Jason, and Solomon hanging by the window.
“You knew him?” Valerie asked.
“Knew him?” Lisa asked. “Oh! Did he . . . ?”
“No. God no. Sorry,” Valerie said. “He just doesn’t get out much.”
“Private school? Western Christian?”
“He’s homeschooled.”
“You do that and this?” Lisa asked.
“It’s all online. Okay, lean back for me. Open wide.”
“I was there you know,” Lisa said, sitting straight up.
“Where?” Dr. Reed asked. She was beginning to look a little frustrated.
“That morning. I saw your son . . . I saw his incident.”
“It was a panic attack,” she said. “Can I get a look at those teeth now?”
“Just one more thing,” Lisa said.
“Go on.”
“Why doesn’t he get out much?”
Dr. Reed stared down at her in silence, her mouth covered with a blue paper mask, but her eyes searching for the right answer. And just when she went to speak, Lisa interrupted her.
“It’s just . . . no one’s seen him in so long. He was there and then he wasn’t. It’s strange is all. I thought maybe he went off to boarding school or something.”
“He made it one day at Western Christian. What do you do if your kid won’t leave the house?”
“Homeschool him?”
“It was our only option. Open wide.”
As soon as Dr. Reed was done, Lisa picked right back up where she’d left off, not even waiting for her chair to be all the way upright again.
“When was the last time he left the house?”
“You sure are inquisitive, aren’t you?”
“I’m sorry. Gosh, I’m so sorry. I never meant to be nosy. I’ve just thought a lot about him over the last few years and when I realized you were his mom, I guess I got too excited.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “I’m just glad somebody remembers him. It’s been three years. A little over, actually.”
“Is he okay?”
“Mostly, yeah. We make it work.”
“Must get lonely,” Lisa said.
“You’d think that, yes.”
“Does he have any friends?”
“Not anymore. Used to though. You guys all grow up so fast. He just couldn’t keep up.”
“Can you tell him I say hello? I doubt he’ll know who I am, but just, you know, if it’s not weird.”
“I’ll tell him, Lisa. And I’ll see you next Tuesday to get this cavity fixed up.”
Lying to adults was a little easier for Lisa than lying to her peers. Just like herself, none of her friends or classmates really trusted anyone, so lying was hard to get away with. But take someone like Valerie Reed, DDS, probably born in the late seventies to Southern California liberals, and you’ve got an easy target—someone who wants to trust everyone so much that they don’t see a lie when it’s slapping them right in the face.
In the grand scheme of things, Lisa knew it was harmless, a necessary step in taking her master plan from concept to actuality. And what a plan it was.
She was going to fix Solomon Reed.
Her life depended on it.
THREE
SOLOMON REED
Therapy didn’t really work on Solomon because he didn’t want it to. They tried taking him to someone when he was twelve, after realizing his tantrums and crying fits were more than just being a spoiled suburban kid. But he wouldn’t talk to the therapist. Not a single word. And what were Jason and Valerie supposed to do? How do you discipline someone who wants to spend all day in his room? If they grounded him from the computer or TV, he’d just read books all day. And neither of them was going to start taking his books away.
He’d been a quiet, shy kid at school. The kid slumping in his desk in the back of the room that