“Hmm.” Skye held her tongue. “Anyway, since we haven’t even set a date yet, I’m not worried about the photos.”
In fact, unbeknownst to anyone beyond Skye’s immediate family, the wedding was on indefinite hold. Knowing how much it meant to Skye to be married in the Catholic Church, Wally had agreed to apply for an annulment from his first wife, from whom he’d been divorced for several years. Father Burns said it might take twelve to fourteen months before the official paperwork was completed, which left them waiting on a process they had little control over.
Pru raised an overplucked brow, but before she could probe further, Skye said, “Anyway, happy birthday.”
Pru nodded regally. “Thank you.”
Skye felt like a bunny caught nibbling a gardener’s prizewinning petunias, and she hadn’t even had a bite of the darn cake. In her heart, she knew she should go ahead, cut a slice, and eat it, but she just couldn’t. Not with Pru staring at her. It was one thing to stand up for herself when someone made a nasty remark, quite another to chow down in front of that same someone, who obviously disapproved of her.
While Skye tried to think of a graceful way to escape, her gaze flitted from the avocado-colored refrigerator set against the back wall to the big black trash can next to the counter, then on to the sink full of used coffee mugs. Finally, she said, “Well, I should probably get back to work.”
“Don’t hurry away on my account.” Pru smiled meanly.
“Of course not.” Skye resigned herself to forfeiting her treat and searched for a good departure line. She glanced at the old library cart holding a huge brown microwave oven, circa 1980. “But I do have reports to write, so I’ll just heat up some water for a cup of tea and be on my way.”
The microwave’s stained exterior was gross, but using the appliance had several advantages. She could turn her back on Pru, thus avoiding further conversation, and when the timer dinged, it would clearly indicate that it was time to depart.
But Pru ruined Skye’s scheme by saying, “Since it’s my planning period, and you can always write reports at home, I’d like to talk to you about something.”
“Oh.” Skye cringed inwardly. Pru had an ongoing vendetta against the student newspaper that Skye and her friend Trixie Frayne cosponsored. Many of the kids who had been on the English teacher’s debate team had switched to the Scoop’s staff because Skye and Trixie treated them fairly. The front page got the top story, not the one written by the teenager who kissed up to them the most. Pru, on the other hand, was known for letting her pets have all the best debate topics, and the students had finally rebelled.
“What’s up?” Skye asked.
“I’m concerned about that new bookstore in town.” Pru ran her fingers through her greasy dun-colored hair, pulling out strands from the bun on top of her head. “I hear it will be selling romance and science fiction.”
Skye bit her tongue to stop from blurting out “And your point is . . . ?” Pru was the leader of the school’s old guard. No need to antagonize her further. Instead Skye said, “Romance outsells all the other genres, and a lot of the most popular YA novels are sci-fi. If those books are readily available, it might encourage kids to read more.”
“Those bodice rippers are nothing but pornography.” Pru’s watery blue eyes scrunched into slits, and her pointy nose twitched, making her look like a nearsighted possum.
“That isn’t true. They’re full of love and hope and happy endings.”
“Nonsense. They’re obscene.” Pru’s lips drew together. “And I have it on good authority that those young adult books you’re referring to are anti-Christian. They encourage the occult and demonic activity.”
Skye clamped her mouth shut, chanting silently, Don’t, don’t, don’t. It would be so easy to make a smart-alecky comeback, but she finally managed to swallow her retort and said, “I’m sure that’s not true either.”
“I’m surprised that you, a psychologist”—Pru’s face had her tsk-tsk look on it—“aren’t aware of the danger posed by those kinds of books.”
“‘Danger?’” The word slipped out. Skye did not like where this conversation was going, and she shouldn’t have allowed herself to be sucked in.
Pru’s tongue snaked out as if she was about to sample a tasty morsel. “I heard that over in Clay Center some boy bit his mother in the neck and tried to suck her blood out after reading some of those vampire books.”
“Really?” If that had actually happened, Skye was sure she would have heard about it. After all, she was the police department’s psychological consultant, and her mother was a police dispatcher. “Who told you that?”
Pru puffed out her cheeks. “I don’t remember.” Her irritation with Skye for daring to question her was obvious. “What does it matter?”
“Rumors can be so harmful,” Skye said evenly. “I just like to make sure my source is reliable before I believe what I hear.”
“Well”—Pru sent a quelling look in Skye’s direction—“I also heard that a girl in Brooklyn sacrificed her baby after reading some book that glorified witchcraft.”
“Now, that’s totally unbelievable.” Skye shook her head. “Surely that would have made the paper, not to mention the TV news.”
Pru leaned forward and whispered, “I hear it was hushed up.”
“By whom?”
“I’m sure I couldn’t say.” Pru got up from the sofa. “Everyone knows I never gossip.”
Skye nearly choked on a suppressed “Ha!” but managed to keep her expression neutral.
“Anyway, I’ve started a petition,” Pru went on, “and I expect you to sign it.” She paused. “Unless, of course, you don’t care about our kids.”
Skye refused to be cornered. “This weekend, I’ll talk to the owners and find out what kinds of books they’ll be selling and to what age groups. I’ll let you know Monday after school what I find out.”
“Now”—Pru glanced pointedly at Skye—“unlike you, I have to get back to my classroom. The bell is about to ring, and the little darlings might burn down the building if they’re left unattended.”
Skye stared at the door after Pru Cormorant’s departure, then turned and cut an extra-big slice of birthday cake. After what she’d just been through, she deserved it. Besides, if Pru planned to stir up trouble for the new bookstore, Skye would need all her strength to make sure the school’s queen bee didn’t sic her swarm of drones on the defenseless owners before they even had a chance to open for business.
CHAPTER 2
The Sound and the Fury
Skye watched as her cousin Hugo Leofanti, owner of Better Than New Autos, stood in his showroom extolling the virtues of a 1999 Ford Escort to Xenia Craughwell. Xenia and her mother had moved to town a little more than two years ago, after the teenager had been kicked out of several suburban schools. Much to Skye’s relief, despite a rocky start, which included kidnapping a cheerleader and involving the school newspaper in a lawsuit, Xenia had managed to graduate from Scumble River High last fall.
Although Xenia had written for the Scoop, and Skye supervised the student paper, they had not been close. Xenia had rebuffed Skye’s attempts to build a relationship and had used her incredibly high IQ to keep all the adults in the school at arm’s length. Even Trixie, the paper’s beloved coadviser, hadn’t been able to break through the girl’s defenses.
Which was why Skye had been so surprised when Xenia showed up in her office that afternoon and asked for assistance in buying a car. Skye had hesitated, wondering what Xenia was up to, but the knowledge that Xenia’s father was dead and her mom acted more like a girlfriend than a parent had compelled Skye to accompany the teen. Now that she was here, Skye wasn’t exactly sure what her role was supposed to be. Xenia wasn’t one to take advice or need help in making a decision.