Free Adaptation by Malinda Lo Page B

blocked interstate, the exploding gas station, Mr. Chapman. She turned to David. “I forgot to tell you—I told Dr. Brand about Mr. Chapman. I told her to call the police.”
    “I told her too,” David said. “Hopefully, she did.”
    “Are you referring to your debate coach, Joe Chapman?” Agent Forrestal asked. “Dr. Brand informed me about what you said. We’ve passed on your information.”
    “Did you find out what happened to him afterward?” Reese asked.
    “I believe his body had already been identified and returned to California.”
    Hearing Mr. Chapman referred to as a “body” made Reese sick to her stomach. She turned her head to look out the window, rolling it down to let in some air. They were paused at a stoplight, and on the corner yellow police tape was wrapped around a collection of Dumpsters. A biohazard sign was taped to the side of each one. The Dumpster lids were closed, but something was poking out of one of them. She could swear it was a wing from a bird.

    They arrived at Reese’s house in Noe Valley first. She was already reaching for the door handle as Agent Menzel pulled the car over in front of a yellow Victorian. She glanced back at David before she opened the door. “Um, bye,” she said, feeling awkward.
    “Bye,” David said. “I guess I’ll see you around?”
    “Yeah. I’ll see you around.” She got out of the car and then impulsively leaned inside again. “I’m really glad you’re okay.”
    He smiled. “I’m glad you’re okay too.”
    She backed out self-consciously and closed the door, nearly banging into Agent Forrestal as he climbed out of the passenger seat.
    “I’ll bring your suitcase,” he said. “You go on up.”
    Reese’s mom opened the door before Reese finished walking up the steps from the street. The sight of her in the doorway sent a torrent of relief through Reese, and she took the last few steps two at a time until her mom crushed her into a tight embrace. She smelled of jasmine shampoo and laundry detergent, and Reese’s eyes stung with tears as the tangled knot of anxiety and homesickness inside her began to unravel, making her limbs feel watery. For a long time her mom held her, and Reese heard her directing Agent Forrestal to leave the busted suitcase in the front hall.
    “Here’s my card if you need to be in touch,” Agent Forrestal said.
    “Thanks,” her mom said, and reached one hand out to take it. Finally Reese heard Agent Forrestal’s footsteps recede down the steps, and the town car drove away.
    Reese pulled back, wiping a hand over her damp eyes. “Hi, Mom.”
    “Welcome home, honey. Come on inside. Nanna made a pot of soup for you.” Her mom put an arm around her shoulders and they stepped through the doorway into the cool, dim front hall.
    Everything looked the same. There was the Victorian halltree with its speckled mirror and burnished oak surface; there was her favorite blue scarf hanging on one of the hooks next to her mom’s purse. It was as if nothing had changed at all, and the familiarity of it made Reese feel as if she had stepped into a parallel universe. Her mom dropped Agent Forrestal’s card on the hall tree table and ushered Reese down the hall past the living and dining rooms into the kitchen. “Sit,” her mom said, nudging Reese into one of the chairs around the wooden table. Dazed, Reese sat, the chair creaking beneath her. “How are you feeling?” her mom asked. “Are you hungry?”
    Reese hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and that had only been a bowl of tasteless oatmeal and some orange juice. She looked at the clock on the wall; it was 2:40 in the afternoon. “I feel all right, but I could eat,” Reese said. The house smelled of chicken soup, that rich scent of onions and celery cooked into a meaty broth, and Reese knew, suddenly, that her grandmother hadn’t just dropped off the soup. She had come over and made it here, probably keeping her mom company while they waited for Reese. “Where’s