Quinn Read Online Free PDF

concert; and a travel poster of County Kerry, Ireland. All were unframed but carefully attached with hidden circles of masking tape. At the bottom left-hand corner of the Kennedy poster drooped a wilted white carnation, taped there to commemorate the first anniversary of his death.
    Quinn sat at her desk by the window, ostensibly committing to memory the postulations of
Totem and Taboo.
Her right foot tapped rhythmically against the floor as she absorbed the marked-up pages.
    Perched precariously on the edge of the desk was a portrait of her parents. Their features, fuzzy and idealized, faded into one another with varying shades of beige—except for the eyes, both pairs identically blue there, although, of course, her father’s were actually hazel. Quinn had gazed at the picture so often she imagined she had blurred the outline of their faces by staring at them so much.
    Her yellow Magic Marker squeaked as she highlighted another paragraph. All but five sentences were illuminated with the bold transparent track. Sighing, she tossed the book on the desk and stretched. Her eyes shifted to the drawer. She stared at it and then, after a quick glance over her shoulder, opened it cautiously. She removed an envelope, extracted from it two type-written sheets that were stapled together, and began to read.
    Quinn was halfway down the first page when Van entered the room. She approached the desk unnoticed and reached down curiously to examine the papers that appeared so absorbing. Quinn jumped up with an exclamation, stuffed the pages into the envelope, and held it behind her back.
    â€œExcuse me. I didn’t mean to startle you,” Van said. “What’s that?”
    Quinn’s face had begun to redden, but she summoned enough composure to slide the envelope back into her desk. “Nothing,” she said casually, closing the drawer. “You just surprised me, that’s all.”
    â€œLetter from home?” Van pressed.
    â€œYeah.”
    Van peered closely into the flushed face. “I don’t believe you.”
    Quinn watched Van’s eyes fix on the drawer.
    â€œYou wouldn’t,” Quinn said.
    Van’s body was stiff and she held her breath.
    â€œYou’re much too inhibited, Vanessa.”
    Van lunged for the drawer and yanked it open. Quinn yelped and grabbed at it, but Van had got there first. She backed away, holding the letter above her head. Quinn stretched desperately, but Van was just tall enough. She waved the envelope back and forth out of reach.
    â€œI don’t believe you did that. I’ll never trust you again,” Quinn protested. “It’s a federal offense, interfering with the mail.”
    â€œI’m not going to read it. I just want to see who it’s from.” Van peered at the return address. “Chris Hartley? Hey, is this what the recent mailbox obsession is all about?”
    Quinn slumped down at her desk, defeated.
    â€œI want to read it. May I?”
    Quinn looked at her balefully, then shrugged. Van began to skim the pages. She made no comment, only raised her eyes once to glance at her friend’s defiant face. When she had finished, she sat still for a moment, then said, “Are you going to report this?”
    â€œWhat for?”
    Van dangled the letter gingerly between two fingers as if it were on fire. “This is one sick boy.”
    â€œOh, that’s not his own stuff. He copied it all from secondary sources.”
    â€œWhich, an Abnormal Psych textbook or The College Man’s Rape Manual?”
    â€œMostly the
Kama Sutra,
I think,” Quinn said.
    Van sat down on the bed. “You mind telling me what’s going on?”
    â€œYeah, I do. But since you bullied your way into it, I guess I might as well. That letter was commissioned.”
    â€œCommissioned,” Van repeated dully.
    â€œLook, I’m going to be twenty-one years old in a few weeks and I’m probably the only virgin in the