The Children Read Online Free PDF Page A

sense of humor seemed off at times. She overshared about Spin, too—posting the weirdest stuff about how they’re soul mates and how she knows him better than she knows herself. She didn’t use his name, though; she called him “the Professor.” Perhaps that was why he didn’t object to her posting about his apparently insatiable sexual appetite.
    â€œTeachers at prep schools are not professors,” Joan said when we showed her one of Laurel’s posts. The post had revealed, in very graphic detail, that our Spin was an oral-sex virtuoso. Sally and I were at the kitchen table, laughing uncontrollably while reading it. Joan asked what was so funny. I turned my laptop and showed it to her, just crying with laughter. Joan put on her reading glasses, read it coolly, and then removed her glasses and made the remark about how prep school teachers are not professors.
    So, we were a little fascinated with Laurel, to put it mildly. We devoted so much time to the idea of her that we were bound to be disappointed when we finally did meet her in person. But she didn’t disappoint.
    *   *   *
    It was the second weekend in June. A Saturday night. Joan had gone off to a dinner party. Sally was going to the Pale Horse Tavern to meet some old friends. Everett was sitting on his porch, drinking a beer and playing with his dogs. He has one dog, a Jack Russell named Snacks, and that week he had two others staying with him—a pair of young Australian shepherds who needed some training. I was in the driveway, having just said good-bye to Sally, when Everett gave a low, long whistle. I pretended I didn’t hear him. I’m not a dog.
    Then he called out to me. “Lottie? Babe?”
    I turned and could see, even from my considerable distance, he had that grin going. He was all horny and high. I could smell the weed from where I stood.
    â€œCome on, babe, come over here,” he said. I shook my head no and turned to our house.
    Then he added, “Babe, pleeease?”
    Two minutes later, I was in his bed.
    I’m in love with Everett; I might as well get that out of the way. I’ve been in love with him for years, really. Since I was a kid. He’s always known it. He hasn’t always felt the same way about me. He had been seeing other women in recent years. He was open about this. We weren’t really in a relationship anymore, so I acted as if I didn’t mind about the others. We still hooked up now and then. Not that often. Once a week. Two or three times, tops. Basically, whenever he wanted. I know, it wasn’t an ideal situation.
    Joan thought I should meet other guys. “You’re just stuck on Everett because you never leave the property. Get out a little more, sweetie. You’ll never meet anybody but Everett if you never leave the house.”
    I didn’t like her to know how often I went to Everett’s at night, so I usually snuck over when she was out, or waited until after she’d gone to bed.
    That night, after Sally left and Joan was at her dinner party, after Everett lured me into his lair and I had his skin against mine, his lips on my throat, I almost cried. I don’t know why; I just always got a little teary in that final moment when I felt his heart pounding against mine and we were suddenly both so still. He had no idea.
    That was one of our first really warm nights of the summer, and Everett suggested we go for a swim. I sat up and looked out his window. It was almost dark, the evening sky was faintly streaked with pale pink clouds, and the lake was as still as glass. Every sound had paused, as it does at dusk, when the daytime birds and insects have clocked out and the peepers and owls haven’t started up. I believe I could have heard Everett’s heart beating in that moment if I’d listened hard enough.
    â€œCome on, first swim of the summer,” he said. He turned my face so that he could give me those