Echo Bridge Read Online Free PDF Page B

of society in colonial Massachusetts. By rights, she should be the first to hang as a witch. But we should only see this fear in a few glimpses, Courtney. Abigail hides it well, and it spurs her to manipulate and deceive a large group of people who hold more power than she does.” Mr. G stroked his chin, which he usually did when he was considering the merit of whatever he was about to say. “I’ve always thought Miller presents Abigail as a sociopath. She tells us herself that she saw her parents killed by Indians as a child, and this is exactly the sort of trauma that can trigger antisocial personality disorder. Why don’t you do some research? Look up the clinical definition. There’s also a great psych book called
The Mask of Sanity
that might be useful to look at in this respect as well.”
    Mr. G didn’t know that I was my own walking, talking example of a sociopath wearing a mask of sanity.
    * * *
    When we pulled up to my house that night, I found myself wondering if Ted felt weird about Hugh dating Molly, who was, after all, Ted’s ex’s sister. I wondered if Ted was sorry he’d ever ditched a girl like Elaine, who was never moody and probably had healthy and enthusiastic sex with Marshall Rye. Ted broke my reverie by turning off the ignition and squeezing my knee. “Courtney…are we going to talk about it?”
    My stomach lurched. I closed my eyes and pressed my forehead against the cool car window. “Talk about what?”
Whether to stay together in college? The panic attacks I’m not hiding very well? The fact that hearing your best friend’s name makes me want to scream?
    “You just don’t seem like yourself lately.”
    “I know,” I said. I lifted my head from the window and opened my eyes. I looked up at our house, which was neither historic (vinyl siding) nor brand-new, but large and featured a hearty lawn and a handful of dogwoods around the addition that had been built before I was born. I half-heartedly wished that the kitchen light would be on in the big bay window, but the whole house was dark. My father was probably in the shed out back, which he called his workshop. He was determined to build the perfect birdhouse to attract a pair of cardinals to the yard that winter. My mother was asleep on the couch, as she was most afternoons when I arrived home. My parents ate dinner early. They were older than most of my friends’ parents, who I imagined were coming home from work at that hour, making dinner and fixing cocktails and squinting out into the dark, looking for their kids’ headlights.
    “I’m sorry.” I rubbed my temples with my fingertips. “I’m just really freaked out,” I said. That was the truth, but then I faltered. “About the play and college and…you know, everything.”
    “Oh, Court.” Ted wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into him. I felt hideous. I was accepting Ted’s comfort under false pretenses. “Everything’s going to be fine,” Ted murmured into my hair. “Don’t worry. Your play will be great. They always have been before. You’ll get into NYU. And you and me, we’re going to work out the distance and all of that.” He slipped one hand down my side and squeezed my hip. “I just miss you, I miss really being with you.”
    “I know, me too,” I mumbled into his sweater. And though Ted’s hugs and kisses made me feel protected and cared for, I couldn’t imagine going back to how hot and heavy we’d been before. I kissed his Humphrey Bogart jaw line so I wouldn’t have to say anything else, feeling his stubble scrape my lips.
    “Revelry’s coming up. You want to go with me?” Ted stuck out his cleft chin and gave me a half smile.
    “Goof,” I said. We’d had dinner reservations before the dance in the North End since August. Ted gave me one last squeeze and then let go, brushing my hair back from my face. “We’ll do something special afterwards, just the two of us.”
    “Okay,” I breathed. The car and Ted’s embrace were