Satan's Pony by Robin Hathaway Read Free Book Online

not to my taste. “Oh, no,” I groaned. Only one person I knew had a taste for hard rock— and a key to my room. Reluctantly I opened the door.
    â€œHi, Jo.” Becca, my thirteen-year-old-going-on-thirty friend, raised her russet head to look at me. She had made a nest of my bed. It was littered with potato chips, schoolbooks, a Coke precariously balanced on a binder, discarded socks and sneakers. A few months ago, Becca’s family had been involved in the illegal smuggling of immigrants in Bayfield—the case in which Maggie’s son was now being tried. During that time, I had offered Becca the sanctuary of my room. Although her family had regained its stability, more or less, she still dropped by now and then. “Hi,” I croaked.
    â€œYou don’t seem very glad to see me.” She pouted.
    â€œI’m sorry.” I forced a smile “It’s just that I’ve been up for twenty-four hours and I was looking forward to some sleep.” Becca and I never lied to each other.

    â€œWell, you won’t get any here.”
    For a minute I thought she was being fresh, but she went on, “your neighbors have been having a fight.”
    Neighbors? Oh, yeah. Vaguely I remembered that obnoxious couple from the lobby was registered in the room next to mine.
    â€œWhen I came in, the woman was screeching about how she’d choose her own friends and why didn’t he mind his own business. Then I think she threw something. There was this awful crash. More screeching of four-letter words. Then the door banged shut. I peeked out and I saw this little man slink off down the hall. I haven’t heard anything since.”
    â€œHow could you hear anything over that racket?” I crossed the room and snapped off the CD player.
    â€œThe fight was before I put the CD in,” she explained patiently.
    â€œSo, to what do I owe this visit?”
    â€œI have to write a paper on Othello and I need help. Please, Jo.”
    Becca was an orphan. Ema Sheffield, her guardian and aunt, was a practicing poet. But when it came to helping with homework she was a total loss. “Because of my vast knowledge of Shakespeare?” I asked.
    â€œNo. Your vast knowledge of life.”
    Becca always knew how to get around me. “You’re kidding.”
    â€œNope. You’re a doctor. You’ve lived in the coolest city in the world. You’ve had lots of lovers—”
    â€œWait a minute—”
    â€œYou must know something about jealousy … .” She grinned mischievously.
    â€œYou imp!” I went for her, but she rolled off the bed and pulled a chair between herself and me.
    I sighed. “What’s the assignment?”
    â€œA five-page essay showing what drove Othello to murder Desdemona.”
    â€œIs that all?”
    She nodded. Sarcasm slid off Becca like waxed soles on a wet deck.

    â€œI don’t know why she needs a whole essay on it. I could give her the answer in one word,” Becca grumbled.
    â€œOh?”
    â€œIago.”
    â€œHmm. Don’t you think the seed was already in Othello’s head, and Iago just helped it grow?”
    â€œMaybe.” Becca was thoughtful. “But if it weren’t for that bastard, Othello and Des would probably have lived happily ever after.”
    â€œHave you read the whole play?”
    â€œOf course.” She was indignant.
    â€œWhen’s it due?”
    â€œYesterday,”
    Naturally.
    â€œBut she gave me a one-day extension.”
    â€œLet’s see it,” I said wearily. Fortunately, Othello was one of the plays I had read in Shakespeare 101.
    She tossed a battered paperback of the play at me and cleared some of her things off my bed to make room for me. “While you’re reading, I’ll make you some coffee, she offered.”
    I curled up on the bed and began to read.

    Enter Iago and Roderigo
    RODERIGO;
    Tush, never tell me! I take it much unkindly