Night Owls by Jenn Bennett Read Free Book Online Page B

missing a day of school last year,” my brother said from the hallway. “She’s a total nerd.”
    Thanks, Heath.
    “You’re barking up the wrong tree,” Mom added.
    The officer handed me a business card. It said he was in the SFPD Graffiti Abatement Program. “If you think of anything or remember something about one of your classmates, give me a call.
Sometimes I’ve been able to mediate a solution between the property owners and the perpetrator. Believe me, I’m a good friend to have.”
    I gripped the card as he walked to the door with my mother, but I could hardly feel the paper. My hands and feet had gone numb. The door closed, and after my mom bolted the lock, she turned
around and stared at me with her eagle eyes. The silence was choking me. Even Heath was quiet, a sure sign of damnation.
    “Please tell me it was a coincidence,” Mom finally said in a low voice.
    I tucked my feet between the couch cushions and hugged myself. “All I did was take a photo.”
    She nodded, but the doubt wafting off her hung around my head like cheap perfume. And why was I feeling so guilty? I didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not like I
asked
Jack to
do it. I didn’t even know his last name, for Pete’s sake.
    “Don’t worry, Bex,” Heath said. “If anyone’s going to jail in this family, it’ll still be me.”
    I tried to smile, but my heart wasn’t in it.
    “Oh no,” Mom mumbled, rushing over to the forgotten cupcakes. Only one of the candles was still lit, and half the frosting had melted and dripped down the black-and-gold bakery
paper. She set the tray down on the coffee table. “Hurry up and make a wish.”
    I groaned and leaned over the table. As I blew out the flame, I wished I could see Jack one more time . . . just so I could boot him in the balls.

7
    AS IF A PANIC-SOAKED BIRTHDAY WASN’T A BIG enough pie in the face, the next morning I got an email from Dr. Sheridan’s assistant. In the
coldest, most banal language possible, grad student Denise wrote that I would “unfortunately” not be allowed to draw inside the Willed Body classroom. But she noted that Dr. Sheridan
hoped I’d consider taking anatomy classes there in the future.
    I was devastated. And because Heath had already left for work—he’s the front-desk guy at a vet office in Cole Valley—I had no one to unload on. I told myself I’d figure
something else out. An alternate plan. But at that moment, it felt like the end the world.
    It didn’t help my black mood that Mom was checking up on me online, reading everything I hadn’t disabled after the cop left. Not like I had a cache of boozy party pictures or
anything that would get me in trouble, but still. Mildly violating.
    Because of all this, I wasn’t in the best frame of mind when I clocked in at Alto Market later that afternoon. I’d already deleted the CELEBRATE photo, and in honor of my craptastic
day, I posted a new one of my name tag, to the bottom of which I’d added a sticker the backroom workers use for pallets of dented cans: DAMAGED GOODS . Ms. Lopez made
me take it off the second I got on the floor, but at least I finally got to talk to someone about the rejection.
    “Can’t you try another medical college?” she suggested. Today’s ladybugs dangled from earrings that peeked between strands of her shoulder-length hair when she moved.
“After all, a body is a body on the inside, yes?”
    “I suppose I could try.”
    “What about a veterinarian office?”
    Dead cats. Ugh. I’m not squeamish, but drawing someone’s deceased pet was miles different from a formaldehyde-preserved frog in a bag. “Veterinarians don’t dissect for
teaching, and they have to follow laws about disposal.” I knew that because of Heath’s job.
    Ms. Lopez made a face. “What about your mother? Maybe you should just come clean and talk to her about it. If you explain how important it is, perhaps she’ll change her mind and help
you out.”
    “No way. She doesn’t like