American Girls Read Online Free PDF Page B

outside, doing what? Peeking in the windows? Waiting behind the bushes to see when Delia read it?
    For a second, I thought that I was hallucinating hot-stalker-breath just behind me, but it was just Roger.
    â€œI have something for you,” he said. “I did not mean to scare you.”
    â€œIt’s okay.” I folded the paper quickly and put it in my own pocket, nervous now that Delia would claim her bag before I could replace the letter. “So, genius,” he said, “I hear you have time on your hands and need money.”
    Wow. Euro-subtlety there.
    â€œThanks, Delia,” I said. “Maybe I should get a business card.”
    My sister took her phone back and wandered away from us. I pretended to be helpful, grabbing her bag for her, and slipped the paper back in when Roger turned to look in the direction she’d gone.
    â€œI was joking,” he said, half looking at me, half ignoring me. “You know, but really … you are not so different from these Manson girls. You steal money, take a plane, head out for California.”
    He handed me a worn copy of Helter Skelter , and then looked at me like he was waiting for a thank-you. Delia had wandered over to the water towers and was covering her phone with her hand while she texted—like anyone was looking.
    â€œSo what’s your point?”
    â€œI think you know my point.”
    My mouth felt dry, and as I looked at the ice-blue rings of his irises, it was like Roger was trying to work some mind-voodoo on me, to make me as blindly obedient to his so-called vision as my sister was. I might have borrowed a credit card number, but that did not make me a Manson girl. Not even kind of.
    â€œYou forgot the murdering-pregnant-women part,” I said.
    Roger waved me off, slipping further into his genius-at-work mode. Or just being his usual rude self. A rat bolted past us from beneath one of the water towers, and before I could react, Roger kicked it out of the way like he’d been kicking rats his whole life.
    â€œI will pay you. You read about these girls for me. I am interested in how you see them, how they feel to you. Maybe you will let me know what was in their hearts. Or you make another one up, create a history.”
    â€œI don’t want to read about murders,” I said, trying to keep track of where the rat had disappeared into the shadows. A total lie. What I meant was: I don ’ t want to read about murders and then have to talk to you about them . “And I don’t see how I’m supposed to figure out what’s in their hearts. That’s just weird.”
    â€œSuit yourself. But I will pay you ten dollars an hour for research. You keep the billing.”
    â€œYou can buy your own breakfast,” Delia said, suddenly ten feet closer and stupidly cheerful. “Besides, last I checked, you love things that are graphic and disgusting. You seemed excited enough to hang out on the zombie set.”
    â€œThat’s because zombies are absurd. I’ll bet no one on the zombie set accuses me of being a zombie.”
    For the second time since I’d left for California, I thought about Leslie Van Houten and how she’d started out a nice person, how something in the desert air outside Los Angeles had changed her.
    â€œOh for God’s sake, Anna. Roger isn’t saying you’re some kind of cultish drone; you can stop being so melodramatic. And if you can’t stand to hear what you did simply put, maybe you should think about behaving differently.”
    I hate, hate, hated when my sister tried to tell me what to do, like she was so perfect. I should have told Delia what she looked like from the cheap seats, but then she was already getting letters on her door with the same information, so what was the point?
    Roger just smirked.
    â€œ Bisous, ” my sister said, kissing Roger on both cheeks.
    â€œBisous.” He all but tongued her cheek.
    They were gross.