Free Thieving Weasels by Billy Taylor Page B

steps.
    â€œWhat are you doing here?” I asked.
    â€œI wanted to thank you again for saving my charm bracelet. How’s your wrist?”
    â€œIt’s just bruised.”
    â€œI’m really sorry.”
    â€œHow’s your foot? I’m surprised you didn’t break a toe.”
    â€œMy foot’s fine,” she said, standing up. “I guess seven years at Miss DeMarco’s ballet school finally paid off.”
    â€œShe must have been a great teacher because that was some kick.”
    â€œShe was an excellent teacher. Unfortunately, she also had affairs with half the dads in the school, including mine.”
    â€œOuch.”
    The chapel bell rang in the distance and Claire said,“That’s curfew. We better get back to the dorms.”
    â€œDon’t worry about me,” I said, and pulled a white piece of paper from my pocket. “I have a pass from the infirmary.”
    Claire looked at the pass. “There’s no time written on it. You could stay out all night if you wanted to.”
    â€œWhy would I want to stay out all night by myself?”
    â€œWho said anything about staying out by yourself?”
    â€œWon’t you get in trouble?”
    Claire dismissed my worries with a wave of her hand. “My roommate snores like a freight train on steroids, and the floor monitor doesn’t even bother to check our room anymore. As long as Campus Safety doesn’t catch us we’ll be fine.”
    â€œWhere do you want to go?”
    â€œThe Drowning Pool.”
    â€œJust the two of us?” I asked.
    â€œI don’t see anyone else around, do you?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œThen let’s go.”
    â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢
    The Drowning Pool was a swimming hole behind campus. Rumor had it that a freshman had died there in the nineteen fifties, and a trip to the Drowning Pool was as much a Wheaton right-of-passage as Mrs. Zelinski’s first year Latin class.
    I followed Claire into the woods, and we were immediately swallowed up by shadows. Leaves and spiderwebs tickled our faces, and the trees and bushes seemed closerthan they had just moments before. We followed a trail of pine needles and dappled moonlight until the trees parted and we came to a small lake. Tiny clouds floated over the surface of the water, and I half expected to see a glowing fairy or a chain saw–wielding psychopath flitting about. We found a log by the edge of the water and sat down to take it all in. Claire removed her shoes and as she slipped her feet into the water asked, “What about you?”
    â€œWhat about me?”
    â€œI showed you mine, now you show me yours.”
    â€œExcuse me?”
    â€œI told you about my father and Miss DeMarco. What’s your family’s deep, dark secret?”
    My family has nothing
but
deep, dark secrets,
I wanted to reply. Instead I said, “I don’t have a family.”
    â€œWhat do you mean? Everybody has a family.”
    â€œMy parents died when I was a kid, and I got passed around by relatives until I came here.”
    â€œThat’s terrible.”
    â€œI don’t know, I kind of like it here.”
    â€œNot that part, the before-you-came-here part.”
    â€œI guess,” I said with a shrug. “It was a long time ago, and I really don’t like to talk about it.”
    The lie rolled off my tongue like it always did, except this time it left a strange taste in my mouth. I turned to Claire, and as our eyes met I felt a strange desire to—
Was it,
tell the truth
? This made no sense. Yes, I had run away to Wheaton to become an honest person, but that didn’t meanI wanted to stand up in the middle of the dining hall and tell the world my life story.
    â€œI’m so sorry about your family,” she said.
    â€œIt was a long time ago.”
    We talked through the night with the chapel bell reminding us—every hour on the hour—of how long we’d been