Free Crimes of the Sarahs by Kristen Tracy

phase and our futures. I watch as the glare from their bumper fades away into nothing. I wonder where they’re headed. I wonder what they named the dog.

Chapter 6
    “I always say that if you see a possum during daylight hours, you’re doing the community a service by running it over.”
    My father scoops up the dead animal with the shovel’s blade.
    “I’ve never heard that,” I say.
    “Possums are nocturnal. If they’re out during daylight hours, they’re most likely rabid.”
    “I hit this one at dusk.”
    “I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it. That’s a borderline situation.”
    I nod. It took my dad over three weeks to finally dispose of the thing. My mom actually wrote it down on a “To Do List” that she stuck to the refrigerator. It said RELOCATE DEAD POSSUM. I watch my father walk into the woods and then return with an empty shovel.
    “Lake looks nice. And so does the trail. People are really picking up after their dogs this season.”
    I take for granted the fact that I live in a house overlooking a lake. I glance over at Asylum Lake. I know, it’s a very unfortunate name for a body of water.
    “Do you think we’ll ever get a dog?”
    “Sarah, you know how your mother feels about dander.”
    “But we could get a shorthaired dog. Or a no-haired dog.”
    My father frowns. He’s started growing out his beard again, so his face looks increasingly scruffy.
    “You’ll be in college in a year. I think your dog days are behind you.”
    That’s a misleading statement, as it suggests that I once had a dog or the possibility of owning a dog, which I’ve never had.
    “I’m going to head down to the lot this afternoon and do some paperwork. You’re welcome to come hang out and look at the cars.”
    I don’t know why my father has the impression that I harbor the desire to accompany him to his used car dealership to look at the cars. He asks me about once a month and I always refuse. Liam enjoyed looking at the cars. Sarah prefers to do other things. Like hanging out with the Sarahs.
    “I’ve got plans.”
    “Really?”
    My father looks at me suspiciously.
    “I’m going to hang out with the Sarahs,” I say.
    “I wondered if something might be up with them. I haven’t seen them in weeks.”
    “It’s this new thing we’re trying,” I say.
    “I think it’s good you’re taking a rest.”
    He puts his hands on his hips and looks at our house. It’s one of the four houses in our neighborhood that was built by the architect Frank Lloyd Wright. It’s a Usonian home. But I’m not totally sure what that means. The house has really small bathrooms. And a kitchen that resembles a tight alley. And cement floors throughout. But it’s got this enormous fireplace and hearth and amazing windows that make the outside and inside totally blend.
    “Sometimes things change,” he says. “And sometimes that change can be so destructive that it demolishes the very foundation of the thing itself.”
    I nod, even though I have no idea what he’s talking about.
    “Sarah,” my mother calls, waving the phone over her head. “You’ve got a phone call.”
    The hair stands up on the back of my neck. I’m thrilled. My dad was getting way too serious. When people start talking about change, it makes me think of menopause and I don’t know why anyone would want to talk to me about that. Especially my father. I race to the house and take the phoneto my room. I know it’s a Sarah. I can feel it in my bones.
    “Hello?”
    “It’s me,” Sarah A says.
    “How are you? I saw the dog. What kind is it? It looks like a Lab. Did you guys even see me? I thought you saw me, but I wasn’t sure.”
    “Oh, we saw you.”
    “Oh.”
    “The dog is a yellow Lab. I named him John Glenn. Everybody likes John Glenn. I mean, he was an astronaut. And a U.S. Senator. And a Marine Corps fighter pilot. And a Presbyterian elder. And the first American to orbit the earth.”
    “That’s a great name.”
    “I know. It’ll