Die a Little by Megan Abbott Read Free Book Online

fairly green teacher."
    "I see. I'll be sure to bring it up with her."
    "And I'd hoped to take care of it today, because I have a lunch meeting Wednesday with the superintendent about next year's renewals. Do you know, will she be back tomorrow?"
    "Pardon me?"
    "Well, I might have broached the subject with Mrs. King herself, delicately, but her illness--"
    "Illness?" Alice had seemed fine when we drove to school that morning.
    Die a Little -- 31 --
    "Oh, I assumed you generally drove in together. She's out sick today. Apparently some sort of flu."
    "Right," I say, rising. "I'll speak with her tonight."
    "Righto."
    As I walk out, head suddenly throbbing, I try to guess at what point Alice might have slipped out of school. At what point she gave up her pretense of coming to work and drove away. Perhaps she felt ill once she arrived.
    "Miss Harris, have you seen Mrs. King today?"
    "No, no," she says, thumbing through her card file. "She called in sick." She waves a card in front of me. "She phoned when I first arrived, seven A.M."
    "Thank you," I say.
    That night, I call my brother to tell him about the missing paperwork. I speak to him in simple, even tones, trying to keep my voice free from any concern or doubt or judgment.
    Like the detective he is, he asks a series of questions I am in no position to answer, questions about how the school or the college must have bungled the process, why he and Alice hadn't been told sooner. Then, he assures me that he will take care of it.
    "There must have been some mistake, some kind of filing error or something," he says, and even over the phone I can somehow see his brow wrinkled in a gesture so old it seems timeless.
    "Don't worry," he says, for the third time.
    "I'm not worried, Bill."
    "I'll drive to Van Nuys myself if necessary," he adds.
    "Fine. How was work--"
    "--Gee, I wish they'd called me sooner. Evans, I mean. I hate for him to think ... I want everything to go smoothly."
    "Is Alice there now?" I ask, as casually as I can manage.
    "No, she's out. She's got some meeting. A neighborhood thing, I guess. Couldn't be school-related, or you'd be there, too, right?" he says, and I'm not sure if it is a question or not.
    "Right," I say, deciding, in an instant, not to bring up that Alice had left school before it began. I don't know why I don't tell him.
    Something in his voice. Instead, the revelation hovers in my throat, too momentous to spill forward. I say nothing.
    Die a Little -- 32 --
    [?]*[?]
    Then, not a week later, the next head-jerking puzzle.
    I am walking into the home ec lab to meet up with Alice for our carpool home. The cavernous room, with its half dozen kitchen units for students to practice making beef bourguignon, is dark, lit only by faint late-afternoon sun. Past the kitchenettes and through the set of sewing machines, I can see Alice standing in front of her desk, my view partially obstructed by sewing dummies.
    I pause for a second, because I think I hear her speaking to someone and I wonder if it is a student she might be reprimanding, or counseling, and I don't want to interrupt.
    Quickly, however, I can see she is distraught in a way she wouldn't be with a student. The low murmuring becomes more fervent. I step slightly to my side and see the profile of a man leaning against the edge of her desk, facing her. The dark furrow of his brows juts out, and as I inch closer, I can see the edges of a steel blue sharkskin suit.
    "Well, how would I know she wasn't going to go through with it? I only know what she told me."
    Then, the deep, indecipherable tones of the man. Then, her again: "Did she give you the rest? I told her not to do it. I knew it would turn out this way." She raises the back of her hand to her forehead. I twist around one of the kitchen counters and see him. He doesn't move at all as they speak, but she moves constantly, winds her arms around herself, scuffing her heels on the floor anxiously.
    "She's digging her own grave as far as I'm concerned.