Killer's Cousin Read Online Free PDF

year.” And with that she seemed for the first time really to see me. Her face brightened with interest; she leaned forward and smiled. “Hey, you’re new too, aren’t you? I’ve never seen you before. I’m Michelle Grafton. I’m a junior. What’s your name? What year are you?”
    Before I could reply she grabbed the clipboard and looked at where I had signed my name. There was alittle pause. Odd how even the top of someone’s head can be expressive.
    â€œDavid Bernard Yaffe,” I said distinctly.
    She looked up. Her mouth was frozen in a little O. I gave her a warm smile. “Nice to meet you, Michelle,” I said. She quailed.
    I felt like Dracula. It was not entirely unpleasant.

CHAPTER 6
    I had nothing else to do at school, but I didn’t want to go back to Vic and Julia’s. I left my car in the student lot and walked the half mile to Harvard Square. There I walked some more, listening to street musicians, reading posted restaurant menus, finally settling for a couple of slices of pizza. I went into a big discount bookstore called Wordsworth and browsed their science fiction section. I bought a CD at Tower Records. I watched
Blade Runner
at the Brattle Theater.
    When the movie ended, it was nearly seven o’clock. I got my car, stopped at the Star Market for groceries, and arrived back at Vic and Julia’s just as dusk was settling into full dark. All over the neighborhood, lights were on, illuminating the rooms and people within. Vic and Julia’s windows gleamed softly above my head. I realized then that I had hoped they wouldn’t be home. I did not want to talk to them.
    On the porch, I looked at the dark windows of thefirst-floor apartment where Raina Doumeng lived. I wondered if she really had recognized me. I wondered if even now the girl from the track table was telling her friends about meeting me. I wondered why the skinhead at school chose to expose his differentness so openly.
    As quietly as possible I went upstairs to the second floor. The television blared in the Shaughnessy kitchen at the back, and I heard the soft clink of cutlery on a plate. I headed up the hall toward the attic stairs.
    Vic and Julia’s bedroom door was closed. Lily’s was open, however, and I was unable to pass it without looking in. On the bed, Lily was lying on her stomach with her chin on her hands, staring at the doorway, at me, as I went by. No book, no music to occupy her. And no expression on her face, not even boredom. As we looked at each other for a split second, her expression did not change, even as I forced myself to nod at her.
    Lily. Speaking of different.
    The attic felt like a haven. If only I didn’t have to go through Vic and Julia’s to reach it.
    I unpacked the groceries and then my backpack, tossing the St. Joan’s T-shirt to the floor. Below, I fancied that Lily was now staring up at me through the ceiling. Automatically, my eyes calculated the exact spot on the floor below which she was located.
    Ridiculous. I was being ridiculous. And it was undoubtedly because I was hungry. I went and got the crackers and peanut butter, but I’d bought salt-free, fat-free, cholesterol-free crackers by mistake. I threw the box away and ate some peanut butter out of the jar. I put on a CD but then, impatiently, turned the boom box off. I listened to the silence. Tomorrow there wouldbe classfuls of Michelle Graftons. And in each class, a roll call in which I must respond to my name.
    There was nothing I could do about that. Nothing I could do about anything.
    My phone rang. It was my mother, with a modified version of first-day-of-school questions. My father was still at work, she said. I accepted the excuse, or pretended to.
    As soon as she slowed down, I cut in. I couldn’t help it. “Did Vic and Julia really invite me here?” I demanded. “Or did you engineer it?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œWhose idea was it in the