The Book of Bad Things by Dan Poblocki Read Free Book Online

his daughter Deb’s Taurus was in front of it, its engine still steaming and clicking in the open garage.
    Cassidy didn’t want to go back into the house just yet, so she perched on the wicker chair on the front porch and flipped through her notebook, finding the last blank page, and filling it with the little she knew of grave robbers. She’d have to look up more about the subject on Rose’s laptop that evening if she had a chance. She supposed that what Mr. Chase and the others had done that afternoon had been a type of grave robbing too. His laugh echoed in her memory, and she grimaced thinking of his prize fox. She secretly hoped it woke up and bit him.
    “Cassie!” a voice called from the street. “You’re here!”
    Cassidy looked up and noticed the boy from the supermarket waving at the edge of the lawn. Hal. “Hey!” She waved. “Yup, I made it … back.” She’d almost said home .
    “I can see that,” he called out. “Hey, is there any good stuff left up at the Hermit’s place?”
    Cassidy remembered their conversation. He’d been waiting to get off his shift so he could come scrounge like the rest of them. She shrugged, lifting her hands in an I-don’t-know gesture.
    “Wish me luck!” he said.
    “Good luck,” Cassidy called out, as the boy walked on.
    “Who you talking to?” Joey was standing behind her just inside the screen door.
    She flinched. How long had he been watching her? “Your old babysitter. Hal.”
    “Well, my mom wanted me to tell you that she put some appetizers out. My dad’s got some burgers on the grill out back.”
    “Everyone’s sitting down to dinner?”
    “Everyone else is. I’m not really hungry,” said Joey. He turned around and disappeared into the shadows behind the screen door.

    Cassidy sat at the picnic table on the back patio, pushing a pile of cold bean salad from one side of her plate to the other, her stomach feeling tight and too small to fit anything inside. It was the opposite of what Cassidy had regularly experienced only a year ago when she’d stuffed herself silly at every meal.
    Dennis and Deb were seated beside her, talking about their days. Dennis Tremont was tall and thin, though he appeared broader when in his navy lawyer suit than in his current costume, a faded concert tee and black jeans. His hair was gray, which made him look a little older than he actually was, but slightly scruffy and handsome, like the hipster dads she’d seen in certain Brooklyn neighborhoods. Deb was obviously his daughter — they had the same sharp nose and wide, intelligent eyes. But Deb also had her mother’s long neck and pale skin. Her dark auburn hair fell in effortless curls to her shoulders, which were bare except for the thin straps of a summery floral dress. Cassidy had never realized how much Deb looked like Joey. But Joey wasn’t around for comparison; he’d already gone upstairs to his bedroom.
    After a moment of silence, which Cassidy hadn’t noticed, Rose reached out and took her hand. “I’m very sorry I forgot to pick you up today. I’ve got lots planned for the next couple weeks. I swear, I’ll make it up to you.”
    Cassidy wore a tiny smile, answering in a small voice, “You already have.”
    “Tomorrow morning, you and Joey are taking an art class at the college. Sound like fun?”
    “Totally!” Cassidy forced herself to sound excited. She wanted badly to tell Rose about the conversation she’d overheard earlier that afternoon. But as the light grew purple around them and the tree frogs began their familiar and lovely chorus, she realized that she should probably keep Rose and Dennis and Deb out of whatever was happening between her and Joey. There was so much more going on with him than any of them probably understood.
    The day hadn’t been all bad. She’d made a new friend, after all.
    In the kitchen, Cassidy scraped her plate into the trash bin. She wondered what Ping was doing next door. Possibly, she was reading one of