Yesternight Read Online Free PDF

platform and my hat shooting off my head. “Oh, but it was dreadful. Thankfully, Mr. O’Daire showed up and assisted me to his automobile.”
    Miss Simpkin’s eyes lost their pep at the mention of my driver. “Well, I appreciate you coming all this way. I don’t know if the Department of Education told you, but I specifically asked them to send a test administrator familiar with children who are”—she shook a cigarette out of the red box— “perplexing.”
    â€œYes, they told me.”
    â€œYou’ve had experience with difficult cases?”
    â€œI have, indeed. Ample experience.”
    Miss Simpkin gave a flick of the lighter and set a flame to the end of the cigarette. Her eyebrows puckered. She inhaled a deep smoke and then removed the cigarette from her mouth and asked, “What did Mr. O’Daire say about Janie?”
    â€œIs Janie the reason you requested me?”
    â€œWhat did he say?”
    â€œWell . . .” I thought back to our conversation. “He told me that you’re Janie’s aunt and his ex-wife’s sister. And he made it quite clear that something about the child concerns him.”
    â€œDid he say what?”
    â€œNo, he said that he’d like for me to speak to her myself before he told me anything more. He wanted to avoid affecting my diagnosis of her.”
    â€œHmm.” Miss Simpkin took another puff and rocked back in her chair with a squeak of the wooden joints. “I’m surprised he felt that way.”
    â€œTo be most honest, I’m not sure if simply talking to Janie, or even testing her using Stanford–Binet, will give me any insight into his worries. I saw her just now.” I nodded toward the cloakroom. “Whatever it is that concerns him about the child isn’t something that’s overtly apparent.”
    Miss Simpkin’s eyes moistened. She blinked several times in a row and held the cigarette with trembling fingers.
    â€œUsually,” I continued, “a parent—or a teacher—will speak to a psychologist about a troubled child’s disconcerting behaviors before the child is approached. Most children won’t simply start talking about their fears, or past tragedies, or whatever it is that’s haunting them.”
    She nodded. “I suppose that makes sense.” Another smoke.
    I kept my gaze fixed upon her and her dependency on that cigarette for comfort, even though she had stopped looking at me.
    â€œWhy did you request the assistance of someone like me?” I asked. “What is it about Janie that has you all worried?”
    She rubbed her right thumb against her bottom lip. “Her mother doesn’t know I requested special help, but other children—other parents—they started coming to us over the summer, saying that Janie frightened them. It seemed wrong to ignore what’s happening any longer.”
    I scooted forward in my chair and laid my right hand upon her desk. “Please, if there’s a concern that needs to be addressed, I want to know as much as possible about Janie. If this concern is showing up in her relationships with her friends or in her schoolwork, then we should definitely make sure Janie is safe and happy.”
    â€œYou’re right,” she said, her voice cracking. “You’re completely right. If this were any other child . . .” She sniffed and parked the cigarette in an ashtray. “Well . . . how should I begin?”
    â€œTake your time.” I folded my hands on the top of my briefcase.
    Her lips twitched, as if deciding whether they should smile. “There’s something I could show you. It—it definitely demonstrates the mystery of our Janie.” She slid open the desk’s bottom drawer and seemed to hold her breath while doing so. “During the week of Halloween, I asked all of the children to write a composition on the theme of ‘The scariest thing