Danny's Mom Read Online Free Page A

school, hitting every other step as if the stairway had too many risers. I had tried all day to keep the memory strings fastened. Now Zach's tug untied them.
    “We don't have to talk,” Callie said, popping a caramel into her mouth and offering me one, “but I'm here if you want to.” I nodded and looked away, aware that if I spoke, my words would yank the scab off my still-fresh wound.
    Truth be told, I felt guilty I'd been able to focus on anything in Meadow Brook other than the pictures in my office. I didn't want to let Danny go, not even for a moment. But I already knew—despitethe cord that stretched from his photos to my heart and gut—that each day he would have to take up ever-so-slightly less space in my mind. Otherwise, I wouldn't be able to do my job. And then what else would I do?
    Callie and I didn't speak as we headed west on the boulevard. I was grateful we could share silence without awkwardness. With anyone but Callie, I would try to fill space with sound—especially with Joe, now that our silences felt heavy.
    Callie broke the stillness when a black Pathfinder swerved in front of us at the entrance to the parkway.
    “Goddamn SUVs! They think they own the whole freakin' world.”
    “Callie Harris in road rage? I don't believe it. And your husband drives a Jeep. Remember?”
    “Yeah, but Tom's not an animal like that moron.”
    The Pathfinder pulled to the left and roared ahead. We merged with highway traffic, then Callie glanced at me.
    “There's something I have to tell you.” She sounded intense, as if her outburst had been a prelude to what she was about to say. “And I know you're not gonna like it.”
    “What?”
    Callie took her right hand off the wheel, placed it on my left. “It's about Ann. Ann Richardson.” She hesitated for a second. “I have to tell you because everyone at school'll be talking about it tomorrow.”
    “Just tell me, Cal!”
    She pulled her hand back as if I'd slapped it. I hadn't meant to sound so harsh, but Ann Richardson was one of the good guys, a gym teacher who never complained about students, even the hard core kids with attitude.
    Callie cleared her throat. “Well, some of my seventh period girls have gym during sixth, and they were talking about a sign someone put on the door to the phys ed office.”
    “And?”

    “And…” Callie looked in the rearview mirror, clicked her directional. “And it was really bad.”
    I turned to face her. “Come on, Cal. What'd it say?”
    “D YKES SHOULD DIE ! That's what it said. D YKES SHOULD DIE ! R EAD THE B IBLE , Ms. R ICHARDSON .”
    A shiver worked up my spine as I watched white sunlight glint off passing cars.
    “Why are the kids picking up on that now?”
    “Who knows? I'm just sorry this happened—today of all days. I know you like Ann. I do too. And I know how you feel about this kind of thing.”
    Dammit! Why was everybody saying they knew how I felt? All day teachers had fed me a lasagna of condolence, mushy layers of sorrow and pity: “I know how you must feel… I can just imagine what you're going through… This must be so hard for you…”
    “So I couldn't not tell you about that sign,” Callie went on. “It'll be the talk of Meadow Brook in the morning.”
    “I certainly hope not.”
    “Me too. But I don't think the kids will drop this so fast. There's some good news, though.” Callie giggled. “Wanna hear it?”
    “Sure.”
    “Whoever wrote that sign spelled dykes correctly. At least that's something, isn't it?”
     
    My keys clanked the table by the front door. Moose didn't hear me come in, didn't even awake when I climbed the creaky stairs. He had plastered himself against the closed door to Danny's room as though trapping a spirit, guarding it from slipping out through the crack between the saddle and door bottom. I lay my head on his side and breathed in the damp dirt smell of old dog. Moose batted a front paw as he slept—maybe swatting squirrels in a dream or pouncing on a