She Has A Broken Thing Where Her Heart Should Be - J.D. Barker Page 0,3

is Great Expectations about?”

The woman at the SUV had managed to draw closer. I hadn’t seen her move, but she was only about ten feet from us now, watching from the corner of her eye, no doubt listening to every word.

The girl looked down at the book in her gloved hands. “It’s about everything that really matters.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Can I see it?” I reached for the book and she shied away, moving toward her side of the bench. The woman edged closer, then stopped as the girl looked up at her.

The girl placed the book on the bench and slid it over to me with the tips of her fingers. This seemed to calm the older woman.

I picked up the book and read the description on the back.

“My name is Stella,” the girl said. “I was named for the girl in that book, only her name is Estella.”

I handed the book back to her. I half expected her to make me slide it back on the bench, but she didn’t. She snatched it from the air and placed it back in her lap. “When a girl tells you her name, it’s only polite to reciprocate.”

“Reciprocate?”

She sighed. “Respond in kind, do the same.”

“Oh, my name is Jack, Jack Thatch.”

“A common name for a common boy. What is your real name? Nobody is really named ‘Jack,’ it’s usually the informal of ‘John’ which never made sense to me—not like Mike and Michael, it’s more like Bill and William, which is even stranger.”

“My full name is John Edward Thatch,” I told her. “Everyone always calls me ‘Jack,’ though.”

“Of course they do. And who is Edward to you? Surely a family name.”

“My dad’s name was Edward. Everyone called him Eddie. How old are you? You talk funny.”

Her eyes drifted to the older woman, then to the cover of her book. She fidgeted with the pages. “I’m eight.”

“You don’t sound like you’re eight. I’m eight, too.”

“Well, you don’t sound like you’re eight, either.”

“Stella?” The woman said this in a low tone, almost a scolding tone, drawing out the name, then: “We need to go.”

Stella sighed again and closed her eyes. She said something softly, too soft for me to hear, yet the older woman seemed to understand her words even though she was further away.

The woman shook her head and Stella frowned, slipping off the bench, one hand smoothing her skirt. She started across the grass toward the woman.

“Bye,” I said, raising a hand.

She stopped then and turned back to me. “It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, John Edward Jack Thatch.”

With that, she started up the hill toward the awaiting SUV. The woman fell in behind her. As the older woman turned, as she spun around, the wind caught the edge of her coat and I saw something beneath it, an image that is still clear as day in my mind; the barrel of a shotgun resting against her leg.

I watched Stella climb into the back. The woman closed the door on her, then she was gone, lost behind dark tinted windows growing smaller as they drove away.

2

“I left ten dollars on the counter for the pizza man. I already ordered. When he gets here, give him the full ten—eight for the pizza, two for a tip, got it?”

“Got it,” I replied. My eyes were glued to the television. Auntie Jo scored an Atari 2600 at a yard sale last year, and the game system had come with a box of game cartridges. Pac-Man was my current game of choice, and I was pretty good. I was even better at Ms. Pac-Man, but I had to go to the arcade to play that one. Pitfall was fun, too.

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Pizza, money, tip, got it,” I muttered.

“Okay, and what don’t you do while I’m gone?”

“Open the door.”

“Except for the pizza guy.”

“Except for the pizza guy.”

Auntie Jo bent down and kissed the top of my head. Her uniform smelled like pancakes and burnt toast. “I’m closing tonight, but I should be home by midnight. Maybe a little earlier, if I’m lucky.”

“What if the pizza guy is an axe wielding murderer and he wants to chop me up into little pieces?”

“Well, then don’t tip him. I’ve got to go.” She was out the door a moment later, fresh cigarette smoke trailing behind her.

Blinky the ghost caught me in the corner and I lost my third life, game over. “Dang.”

When I was younger, Auntie Jo employed a series of babysitters when she went