What Curiosity Kills by Helen Ellis Read Free Book Online Page A

time and a place for heroics, but this is neither here nor then. I know you were trying to help, but the best intentions can get you in hot water."
      "Hot water?" cries Ling Ling. "If anyone should be sterilized, it's Mary! Now Nick's got whatever she's giving!"
       Tweet! "Lebowitz!" Coach barks. "Take a lap!"
      Disgruntled, Ling Ling sprints around the perimeter of the gym. Her short bob, bleached blond last weekend without her mother's permission, wags at her chin. Her blunt bangs bounce. At home, before the start of every school day, she applies a lipstick shade that is banned at Purser-Lilley. She gets away with it because she doesn't bring the tube onto school property. The color doesn't need to be reapplied. For twelve hours, her lips are stained Cranberry C***. When she comes full circle, her frown is more pronounced than any foul thing she might say.
      Ling Ling overdramatically swabs her dry brow with an arm of her long-sleeve T. She bends over, braces her hands on her knees, and gives the boys an eyeful of her short shorts.
      "Keep running!" shouts Coach. To Ben, she says, "You are excused."
      Ben asks, "But what about your big thing and balls?"
      He's talking about the sports equipment, but the twins' pink faces turn mauve. Their scalps radiate under their colorless hair. Octavia opens her mouth to crack wise about something—the comment, the twins, Ben, our bleach-blond arch-nemesis—but reconsiders at the sight of Ling Ling in motion. Coach let Octavia get away with Yum, yum, gimme some. Unlike Ling Ling, however, my sister knows when to not push her boundaries.
      Coach glances at the parachute heap. She surveys the gym floor, littered with hundreds of tennis balls. Some quiver beneath the overhead heating ducts. If the tennis balls were land mines, none of us would make it out of here alive.
      She says to Ben, "You've helped enough. You're released. Go back to the boys' gym and dress out."
      "Yes, Coach." Ben shuffles toward the exit. He collides with Ling Ling, who gestures to his rope-burned legs and says something that we can't hear but must be brutal. He hangs his head and skulks out.
      Coach shouts, "Ling Ling Lebowitz, if you can talk, you are not running fast enough! Nick, I want a word. The rest of you, start picking up balls!"
      I ask, "What about me?"
      Octavia gives me a look that says, Girl, you be buggin'.
      Coach gives me a look that says, You are an accident that's alread y happened. She doesn't mean this the way Ling Ling would if she'd said it. Coach is having mercy on me. I've embarrassed myself enough: the socks, the parachute, the outburst, the boy. I should do myself a favor, put my head down, pick up balls, and blend in.
       Coach says to Nick, "Don't be such a hero next time. If you're injured, it's my responsibility. From what I know, coaches around here get fired for hurting feelings."
      Nick catches sight of me. He looks through the coach like he looked through my parents' blinds. His eyes don't change like Octavia's did when her expression told me I was bugging or like the coach's did when she let me know I'd embarrassed myself enough. Nick's eyes are steady, perfect ovals. I get lost in their darkness.
      Sneakers stop scuffling across the court. Ling Ling pauses in my peripheral vision. Everyone's staring at Nick and me because we are staring at each other. For how long? Five seconds? Five minutes? I don't know. I don't care. Nick is trying to tell me something. I feel it physically, as if his hand is still clutching my wrist. I keep my sights on him until I read him loud and clear: if I am ever in danger, he will defy Coach's orders, ignore Ling Ling's barbs, and get by anyone in his way to save me.
      Ling Ling races toward us but is stalled by the coach. "What?" Ling Ling challenges her, panting for real. She stops a foot away from me, but her legs keep on pumping. "I'm doing my laps, Coach! I'm lapping in place!"
      Coach's