Free Deadly Little Games by Laurie Faria Stolarz Page B

fingernails. “I need an A, and Professor Williams hates me, which means I have to be twice as economical with all my debits and three times as stingy with all my credits. So, I’ll see you at eight?” she asks Adam.
    “Sounds good,” he says.
    While Piper and her friends head for the exit, Adam leans in close and apologizes for Melissa. “She can be a bit prickly at times.”
    “Well, Piper seems nice.”
    “A little too nice, actually. She’s one of those girls who gets walked on a lot.”
    “But not by you. I mean, you two are just friends, right?”
    “Right.” He grins, perhaps misreading my interest. “Friends. Just like you and me.”
    I clear my throat, suddenly realizing how little I’ve accomplished during this conversation. “So, everything with you is great?” I say in a final attempt to get some scoop. “No problems? No demons in your closet? Nothing weird going on?”
    “Other than this conversation? What’s up with you?” he asks, double-dipping a fry. “You were like this on the phone the other day, too.”
    “Just making conversation.”
    “Psycho conversation, maybe.”
    “Speaking of psychos,” I half joke, “any in your life that I should know about?”
    “Just one,” he says, giving me a pointed look.
    “Very funny,” I say, wondering if maybe I am being psycho—if maybe this whole scene was just a really bad idea.
    We sit in awkward silence for several seconds, picking at the shrinking mound of curly fries, and sipping our drinks down to the ice. But then Adam slips his parka on, complaining of a chill.
    And that’s when I see it.
    The small insignia on his jacket, right by the collar. It’s a diamond-shaped logo with a snail inside.
    Exactly like what Aunt Alexia and I painted.
    “I mean, seriously,” Adam says, “is it really so hard to believe that for the first time in a long time I’m really happy with the way my life is going?” He continues to jabber on, but I’m not really paying attention.
    My pulse races and my mouth goes dry.
    “Camelia?” he asks.
    I force myself to look into his face.
    “So, is it?” he asks.
    “Is what?” I gaze at the scar on his bottom lip, reminded of my sculpture in pottery class.
    “Is it so hard to believe that I’m happy?” he asks. “That everything is going great with me, for once?”
    “No,” I lie, at a complete loss for something better to say. “It isn’t so hard to believe at all.”

AUDIO TRANSCRIPT 5
DOCTOR: I’d like to focus our session today on riddles.
    PATIENT: You mean, jokes?
    DOCTOR: More like puzzles, questions, things that don’t readily have an answer.
    PATIENT: Why would you want to talk about that?
    DOCTOR: Because I think you like riddles. I get the sense that you enjoy it when I don’t know all the answers.
    PATIENT: If you can’t figure things out, then maybe you shouldn’t be a therapist.
    DOCTOR: Seems like I’ve struck a chord.
    PATIENT: (Patient doesn’t respond.)
    DOCTOR: You talked last time about wanting to hurt someone. You said this person was a male, and that deep down, he might in fact want to be hurt.
    PATIENT: You read too much into things.
    DOCTOR: It’s what you said. I can play it back for you if you’d like.
    PATIENT: No, thanks.
    DOCTOR: Are you still thinking about hurting this person?
    PATIENT: Like I said, you read too much into things.
    DOCTOR: Do I? Or is this all part of one big game?
    PATIENT: Let’s just say that someone is making a big mistake and I’m doing my best to protect that person.
    DOCTOR: By hurting someone else?
    PATIENT: I didn’t say that.
    DOCTOR: Then why don’t you explain it?
    PATIENT: (Patient laughs.)
    DOCTOR: What’s so funny?
    PATIENT: Maybe you’re right. Maybe I do like puzzles. Maybe I like them a whole lot.
    DOCTOR: And why is that funny?
    PATIENT: Because with every game, there can only be one winner.
    DOCTOR: Sometimes there’s a tie.
    PATIENT: That’s what sudden death is for.
    DOCTOR: Whose sudden death?
    PATIENT: