American Girls Read Online Free PDF Page A

the zombies of the bug world—legion, tireless, and impossible to destroy.
    â€œOkay,” Delia said. “We’re supposed to take the elevator to the top floor, then the stairs. Roger will meet us up there. Did you know that Richard Ramirez, the ‘Night Stalker,’ used to live here? It’s like that hotel in The Shining , I think there was another serial killer here for a while as well, but I can’t remember who. Can you imagine booking a room here on purpose?”
    â€œGreat,” I said. I hated that I was more bothered by the homeless couple than by any long-gone psycho, that the thought of walking by them again made me decide against asking to go to the coffee shop on the corner. And it’s not like there weren’t homeless people in Atlanta; they just didn’t seem to be openly wounded. Or maybe I wasn’t looking as closely.
    When the elevator stopped, we climbed a final flight of concrete stairs and stepped into the open air. The top of the building was dirty with bird crap and discarded cans. Three water towers sat toward the edge of the space, near a thin wall that looked like you could trip over it into the street, and about twenty feet away from us, dancing over his computer as he typed and held a hand up in our direction with a “No, no, don’t bother the genius” wave, was Roger. He had on tight black jeans, a black leather jacket, and had shaved his head into a cancer-victim crew cut.
    My sister rolled her eyes and pulled out her phone. At least she had an escape.
    After a minute Delia gestured at the middle water tower.
    â€œAnna,” she whispered, “see that tower? A Canadian tourist was staying here and they found her body in it, but not until it was badly decomposed. The residents of the hotel had been using the water for weeks.”
    The wind picked up as she was talking, and I felt a chill.
    â€œAre you serious? You mean that actual water tower?”
    â€œCompletely.”
    The water towers looked like oversize cans that should have been recycled long ago. They creaked to life every time someone flushed a toilet or ran a shower. I wanted to be home as much as I’d ever wanted anything in my life.
    â€œ Gwiazdeczko, ” Roger said, and kissed my sister on the mouth. “ Misiu .”
    He was reaching for my cheek, but I put out my hand instead. My sister might have been confused about her relationships, but I was not even remotely confused about mine.
    â€œOh,” he said. “You are so much bigger and formal now.”
    He was looking me up and down like I was trying out for some part in his idiot film. Hollywood people could be gross even when they weren’t trying. Pimps and butchers.
    â€œShe looks more like you every day, you know.”
    â€œRest assured she has a mind of her own,” Delia said. “I figured it would be okay if she came today. She knows the drill.”
    â€œYou are not in school?” Roger asked, like he cared.
    â€œNo,” I said. “Keen eye for detail.”
    â€œAlways the mouth,” he said, and gave me a shut-the-eff-up smile.
    â€œSo I had a breakthrough,” he said, and he took my sister’s face between his hands, like he was going to make out with her or snap her neck in one swift move. “I know . I know who you are.”
    â€œThat’s reassuring,” I said. “You did live together for five years.”
    My sister glared and Roger ignored me. Just like old times.
    â€œYour character. Do you know how many children Charles Manson had?” he asked, like it was the riddle of the Sphinx. “How many grandchildren? He probably wasn’t allowed conjugal visits, but no one knows what is really possible in prison. Could he have found a way around that? There were many children from his family who were placed in foster homes, who never knew who they were, let alone who their father was. And the sex was so promiscuous then, no? I