Generation of Liars Read Online Free PDF Page B

bill of health and release you.”
    “Like what?” My legs were swinging
back and forth, the colors on my stockings mixing like a spinning carnival
trinket. I admitted to myself that I liked the attention from the doctor, and
the feel of him in my physical orbit sent a rush of blood that started in my
head and travelled to all the nerve endings in my body.
    “I’m going to test your reflexes.”
    “I can assure you, doctor, that my
reflexes are catlike.”
    “I don’t doubt that they are.” He
was flirting back. I was dizzy but smiling. He selected a mallet from the
counter and placed a hand on my thigh to steady my leg, his satiny eyes
snagging mine one last time before stooping down to tap my knee. “That’s
weird.” Something on my leg had caught his attention.
    “Something wrong?”
    “No, nothing is wrong. I just
noticed some blood on your stocking. You must have nicked yourself during the
altercation. I should clean it up.”
    “These stockings are my favorite,”
I said between pouted lips. “I hope the blood comes out.”
    “Just be glad you’re not in worse
shape.” He gently peeled the lip of my stocking. “But I will admit it is a
shame about the stockings since they add to the allure of your, what did you
call them? Catlike qualities.”
    The feeling of his hand gliding
over my knee made the skin on my leg tingle and I bit my lip and laughed, and
that’s when something small and light fell out of my stocking and hit the
floor. The doctor reached down and scooped up the tightly overlapped note.
    “Hey,” I hollered, recalling the
confession I kept on me at all times, “that note is mine!” That damn stupid
burden .
    “Did you hide this note inside your
stocking?”
    “I forgot it was in there. Just
give it back, okay?”
    His eyes flickered to mine and he
read the words written on the outer fold : If found dead, please contact the
parents of Heather Gilmore at the following phone number and share the enclosed
information . “Who is Heather Gilmore?” he asked.
    “That’s confidential.”
    “Is your name really Heather
Gilmore, Alice?”
    “No.”
    “Then are you really anticipating
someone finding your dead body soon?”
    “Nobody anticipates dying, but it’s
a dark world out there. The words on that paper are my last will and testament.
Now give it back.”
    He handed me the note. I was
relieved that he didn’t open it up to read any further. “You’re a little young
to keep a last will and testament,” he told me.
    I shoved the note back into the lip
of my stocking. “May I go now?”
    “Technically you have a clean bill
of health. There are no signs of trauma or head injury, so I can’t justify
ordering you kept overnight for observation. Though just between you and me,
calling in a mental health professional for review wouldn’t be a bad idea,
Alice, or Heather, or whatever your name is.”
    “Listen, I only told you any of
this because you looked bored in this place and I felt sorry for you. I figured
I would give you a taste of the exciting life you’re missing out there.”
    When he spoke again, it was rote,
as though none of the chemistry we just experienced had happened. “It was nice
to meet you. My name is Ben Robinson. You can call me here at the hospital if
you need anything else and the receptionist will page me.” I watched him check a
few things off from the clipboard chart on the wall. “Do you have any family
you need me to call?”
    “No family.”
    “Is there anyone here in Paris who
can come pick you up? A friend? Coworker?”
    “No friends. I can get myself home
just fine. I’m not a child and the pills you gave me have already worn off.”
    “Okay, but take care of that wound
on your shoulder. You don’t want it getting infected. Your hands should be fine
in a few days.” His eyes seemed to condemn me. “Just don’t climb anything
else.”
    “I’ll try not to.”
    “Oh, and please, whatever you were
really doing when you got hurt,