Dusssie by Nancy Springer Read Free Book Online Page A

… but still, I felt like it was up to me and my snakes to help Troy somehow, in spite of what the Sphinx had said. I mean, she had sounded so doom-and-destiny sure about Troy, but she was a mythological creature and this was New York City in the twenty-first century, you know? There ought to be some way to break her rules. Or, if she wanted to run things by fairy-tale rules, wasn’t I pretty much a mythological creature myself, with snakes on my head? So shouldn’t there be something mythical or fairytale—like I could do? Go on a quest or something to save Troy? Give Troy a kiss on his stone lips, like he was Sleeping Beauty?
    â€œAbsolutely not,” Mom gasped.
    â€œBut, Mom—” I turned to argue with her, but stopped when I saw her face. She had gone chalk white.
    â€œDusie, no. You must not go anywhere near that boy. Right now you’re safe, but if anybody connects you with him …”
    â€œWhatever,” I mumbled.
    â€œThere’s no telling what might happen. And there’s nothing you can do for him anyway.”
    â€œUm …”
    â€œDusie, you are not to put yourself in danger. I mean it.”
    â€œI can tell you mean it,” I grumbled. She looked scared stiff. So okay, I’d let it go. For today. And I wouldn’t mention it to Mom again. But I couldn’t let her run my life anymore, no matter how much she meant what she said, because look how she’d lied to me and what a mess she’d got me into. I was going to have to figure out things on my own from now on, and I would visit Troy. The minute I got a chance.
    I couldn’t manage it the next day because Mom stayed home to take me to the shrink.
    I heard her on the phone, telling somebody she couldn’t make it to her shift at the food pantry and could they please fill in for her?
    Huh. My mother did volunteer work? I guess she’d mentioned stuff like that before, helping at the homeless shelter or raising money for animal rescue, but I hadn’t paid much attention. Everybody knew celebrities did charity work to look good, and I had thought she really was a sculptor, a famous one.
    Whatever, because what she really is, is a gorgon. And even if she spent all day feeding homeless people, it wouldn’t change that. I kept reminding myself of this, because watching her drift around the apartment with her “be strong” look on her face as she polished the glass tables and silver chrome picture frames—just for something to do—I felt scared that I might start trusting her again. I still had feelings for her in my heart, I really wanted—
    But I had to remember: She was the one who had gotten me into this mess.
    I made sure to keep that in mind pretty much all day. In the apartment. In the taxi. At the doctor’s office.
    After seeing the shrink I headed into DeLucia’s Deli with my funky-colored fake fur hat on, to get me and Mom some paella with extra yellow rice and a couple of eclairs. They make the best eclairs. Anyway, the reason I mention it is that, right inside DeLucia’s, at one of the cafe tables, sat the little old man from the library.
    New York City being NYC, I’d assumed I’d never see him again. But there he was. Just my luck, he probably lived in my neighborhood. I noticed him right away, like, ow . But he didn’t see me, because he was bent over his plate eating his cream of broccoli soup.
    I wanted to back out the door. I’d been so rude to the old guy, I wanted to run away. Then I remembered how bad I’d felt that day, and it kind of surprised me to realize I felt way better now—maybe because my period was almost over, or because of the hats? I don’t know. Anyway, feeling better kept me from ducking out the door. Instead, I walked over to him.
    â€œUm, sir,” I managed to say.
    He looked up and smiled like I was his best friend.
    â€œUm, I want to apologize,” I blundered on. “I