Page 33 of What Boys Learn

“Notwhatever. Benjamin’s hypersensitive to this stuff right now, and he seems to be getting more slippery with the truth. He’s watching me. I’m sure as hell he’s watching you. If a cop plays that fast and loose . . .”

Robert sighed. “I needed to make sure. I was worried Benjamin’s name would be in there. But it wasn’t. Lots of other guys, lots of innuendo. Nicknames and stuff.”

“Nicknames.”

“But Benjamin’s name isn’t in there. I swear.”

“What kind of nicknames?”

“I don’t remember.” Someone in the background was calling for Robert.

I dreaded asking. “Was one of them ‘Shrimp’?”

“Maybe. Actually, yeah. Shrimp. That was one of them.” The diary. The decoy. My son himself, as living evidence.

The shortest kid in the class.

“That’s Benjamin,” I said. I couldn’t believe it hadn’t hit me before.

“Oh, shit.” Robert lowered his voice. “Well, at least Hernández and Wood don’t know that.”

“But they will. Robert, they will. As soon as they ask other kids.”

When I got back to the lounge chairs, Dr. Campbell asked, “Everything all right? You look upset.”

“No. It’s fine.” I pushed my phone into my bag with shaky hands, the crinkle reminding me of what I’d already stashed at the bottom.

Benjamin continued flip turning down the lap lane. I wanted him to be finished, so we could leave, but it wasn’t like leaving would make things any better.

“I heard you went on to a master’s program,” Dr. Campbell said, pleasantly, as if he hadn’t noticed my distressed expression. “Are you teaching? Counseling?”

“Counseling. At a local private high school.” I couldn’t keep the dismay from my voice.

“Not Summit, I hope. The suicides?”

“They’re investigating them as homicides now.”

He took the statement in stride.

“You must be in shock. Of course you are. I’m sorry. It’s hard for any therapist, losing a patient for any reason.”

He glanced down, giving me time to recover before looking up again. Those eyes. I hadn’t thought of Dr. Curtis Campbell in years.

“I’ve lost my job, too,” I said. “They blamed me, at first, when they thought the deaths were suicides. They probably still do.”

“No reasonable person could blame you.”

“I knew those girls. I talked to them. Clearly, even if they didn’t take their own lives, they were involved in something, and I had no idea. Everything I thought about them was wrong.”

He nodded patiently. “You have malpractice insurance, of course, but do you have the support you need?”

“Not really . . .”

A shadow passed over my whole body. Cold water speckled my legs.

“Mom,” Benjamin said, shaking his head like a dog.

“Hey!” I shouted, then wished I hadn’t.