Odin's Murder Read Online Free Page B

this place focused on cooperative learning or some crap. My fault for not paying attention to the fine print. Not that I have any alternative.
    I take a deep breath and begin the calming technique Mary insisted I learn on my fingers at my first counseling session. Ten, nine eight... I start, counting down and focusing on a point in the distance, still hearing her voice as she counted with me, the twelve year old no teacher or foster parent could control ...two, one, breathe out, one, two, three, four...
    Memory’s bare shoulders come into view when she moves her hair off her face. Her skin glows, smooth and perfect and there’s a loose strand of black against her white neck and I imagine it through my camera lens. I’d use a use a zoom setting, something that pixilated like retro movie film, to go with the plastic cherries hanging from her ears.
    “Hey.” The whisper comes from my right. I glance to the side and take in the blond hair and eyes with lashes a mile long, covered in the gunk girls wear so you know that they are inviting you to look. I look. She clicks her tongue against her teeth. “Can you believe he’s assigning the groups?”
    I shrug. I wonder what her deal is, what she wants from me, why she’s being chatty at the one hard case in the room, and then I take another deep breath. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six...
    The blond smiles, nice. “Maybe we’ll be in the same one together.” She’s acting like I belong there, like I’m one of them.
    I can do this. Whatever topic the professor gives, the work should be easy on my part. Five, four, point, shoot and click. The magic of photography, the distance of the camera is my shield and my weapon, perfect digital aim. Mentally, I frame a shot. Three, two, one… smile at the pretty girl. “Maybe so.”
    “I’ve left your group assignments in an envelope on the front table,” Dr. Anders says. “Your names are on the front, with the number of your study office. The topic is inside. I’d like to see a list with three to five directions of research by class tomorrow. If you are struggling with this, please see me for suggestions.”
    Memory reaches the table first, grabs the stack of envelopes and calls out names.
    *
    My plan is to follow Anders to his office and beg out of this group thing. I’ll tell him it’s best for everyone if I’m not forced to play with others, but the throng of students hanging around to kiss teacher-butt and ask pay-attention-to-me questions is too thick, and by the time I give up and drop my backpack off in the dorm I’m hauling ass not to be late.
    The note Jeremy gave me from Burnett instructs me to go to the side door of the dining hall, and the kitchen racket and blast of steam to my already sweaty face tells me I’m in the right place. I hold up the scrap of paper and read the name again.
    Constance Cory, Food Services Manager.
    I look around for whoever could be in charge of this zoo, past the women by the ovens and the younger men washing dishes, and my eyes finally land on a small black woman with her hair back in a net and a spotless white apron hanging from her neck, yelling at a boy carrying a huge tub of applesauce out to the hot tables. She’s the commander-in-chief of this army, the way they snap to attention at her voice.
    Her eyes narrow at me and she waves me over. I go, taking care not to step in a huge puddle of water on the floor.
    “Ethan, is it? You’re late,” she says, waving her hand to the girl at the stove, gesturing to keep stirring a large pot of... something.
    I peer into the murky brown substance, stew or gravy or—I decide I’d rather not know.
    “Maya! You come mop up this water before someone breaks their neck!” she yells across the room.
    “Yeah, sorry,” I mumble. She raises one eyebrow. “Ma’am,” I add.
    “Rule number one, be on time.”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “Mr. Burnett told me your punishment,” she nods to my busted lip. “You can work in here but no trouble. I