Free Gray Matter by Shirley Kennett Page A

from under her bed.

CHAPTER 7
    I N THE MORNING, PJ registered Thomas for school, using the address of the rental house to establish residency in the St. Louis City school district. Both of them had been up late the night before. The evidence technician hadn’t arrived until nearly midnight to take a sample of the blood from under the cat’s claws, and then there was the ordeal of bathing the smelly creature. Thomas went through the whole morning routine without saying a word. She knew why. He was not eager to go to school when summer vacation started in a little over two weeks. He did not want to be thrust into a situation where everyone else had established friends and routines and he was an outsider, only to break up for summer a short time later.
    She knew that Thomas thought she had absolutely no understanding of the difficulty he faced. That wasn’t true, but of course there was no use telling a twelve-year-old that she had once been that age, and that her self-esteem had risen and fallen according to the whims of her peers, that she had endured her share of tearful rushes to her room, slammed doors, and crushed feelings, and thoughts that she was the only one in the world who ever got a zit.
    She was hoping that he would be able to break into the social structure and form at least one friendship that would have a chance to develop over the summer. Then when school started in the fall, he would have a connection—he wouldn’t be the odd guy out. So, wondering if she was doing the right thing, she left a message for Schultz that she would be in a little late, and then dragged Thomas to registration. Much to his dismay, the school secretary offered to have him start that very day. As he was led away, he shot her a black look that could have withered a sturdy oak. As her former confident married self, it wouldn’t have bothered her. As a newly-divorced single parent, she found herself questioning all of her parenting decisions.
    When she finally got to work, lugging in a large box, it felt as though it should be quitting time. She dropped the box off in her office and went looking for Schultz. Unable to find him, she touched base with her boss Howard Wall, and immediately regretted it. She had a brief but intense conversation in his office. He was under pressure to show something, anything, from the CHIP project, and he was perfectly willing to pass along the pressure. He was like a hydraulic pipeline that narrowed and propelled its noncompressible contents faster and faster. Those further down the pipeline got blasted. Well, there was someone down the pipeline from PJ, and he wasn’t there to defend himself. On the way back to her office, she left a cryptic note on Schultz’s desk: See me ASAP.
    She surveyed her office with a critical eye. The box, which was the same one she had used to take the cat home from Burton’s apartment, was full of her personal office items. Her first tasks were to straighten the place up and install the fan and halogen desk lamp she had brought with her. Flipping the chair over, she adjusted the seat down to a more comfortable height. Then she turned off the humming fluorescent overhead fight and closed the door, blocking out most of the traffic and bathroom noise. Immediately the room felt better. The fan was a cheerful white with blue plastic blades, very quiet while running, and powerful enough to keep the air in the tiny office in constant motion. She tilted it up toward the ceiling so that it wouldn’t disturb papers on her desk. Not that there were any papers currently on her desk, but she felt that situation would change rapidly. The lamp cast a wide circle of bright light over the desktop, and she angled it away from the monitor so there wouldn’t be any glare. For a moment she simply basked in the breeze, her feet resting comfortably on the floor, and studied the shadows around the edge of the room. Then she emptied the rest of the box, setting out a picture of Thomas, a