“Let’s go talk,” Lyle says, grabbing me by the arm. With a wave at the others, he steers me to the cafeteria. “Isn’t it great, Lyle?” I say, a goofy smile on my face. “I forgot to tell you about Ursula,” Lyle says as soon as we sit down. Neither of us is hungry, but… Continue Reading
Plaster of Paris; chapter eleven, part three
I compliment her before making an all-points attack on the food. The way I inhale the food makes me realize that I’ve been neglecting my general health since Paris got hurt. Well, since before that as well, but especially after. I gobble down enchiladas smothered with cheese, sour cream and home-made salsa, tortilla chips, and… Continue Reading
Plaster of Paris; chapter eleven, part two
Lyle went to see Ursula this morning, and she was gracious enough to receive him into her house. He promises he’ll tell us about the interaction, but he has something else to relate first. After his meeting with Ursula, he’s about to get into his truck to leave when this tall, leggy blond clamors out… Continue Reading
Plaster of Paris; chapter eleven, part one
Wednesday. Four days after Paris was almost killed. It seems much longer, and yet, it seems like it just happened. Time is the first thing to go in a period of crisis because it’s simply no longer important. If someone you love is hovering between life and death, what does an hour or a day… Continue Reading
Plaster of Paris; chapter ten, part three
He starts to speak, then falters. He is looking for Paris’s mother, as he doesn’t feel comfortable revealing information to anyone but the next of kin. This doctor is short, about five-six with blond wisps that go every which way but down. He is wearing round glasses that half hide keen blue eyes. My mother… Continue Reading
Plaster of Paris; chapter ten, part two
“Ms. Liang,” the inspector nods at my mother, then frowns. There is the apparent problem of confusion of address with two Ms. Liangs in the room. “You can call me Songbird,” my mother says helpfully, drawing a raised eyebrow from the inspector and a giggle from me. “Or Susannah,” my mother adds, anxious to make… Continue Reading
Plaster of Paris; chapter ten, part one
“I’m going to see Paris,” I say defiantly, striding towards the room. I positively itch for a confrontation, but this officer, yet a different one, lets me in as soon as I give her my name. I sit down. “It’s a mess, Paris. I’m no closer to finding out who did this to you, and… Continue Reading
Plaster of Paris; chapter nine, part two
“If I am not knowing better, I would think you were avoiding me.” Vashti’s husky voice causes the anger inside of me to melt into something much nicer. I am practically deliquescing on the street. “Sorry, Vash,” I say lamely. “I’ve had a lot on my mind.” “I understand. How is Paris?” Concern laces her… Continue Reading
Plaster of Paris; chapter nine, part one
“I suppose you’re wondering why I called this meeting,” Sandra says to me, smiling a brittle smile. We are in her office, with the door closed, of course. She is wearing a prissy white blouse buttoned up to her neck and beige pants, perfectly creased. Today, her hair is scraped off her face and held… Continue Reading
Plaster of Paris; chapter eight, part two
When I do return to the living room, Lyle is ready to take me to the mat. I can tell by looking at him that he’s itching for a fight. It saddens me because I like him very much, and I don’t want to ruin our budding friendship. He demands to know why he has… Continue Reading