Things I Shouldn't Think

by Janet Ruth Young

“She is. And we’re really close. But anyway, under the circumstances it’s best if you only stay a short time. I’m glad for the company, though.”

  “It’s great outside. I was going to invite you to my house. We could sit in papasan chairs and eat Indian food and watch the ocean. Maybe when you’re ungrounded. We need to practice. Should we get right to it?”

  They run through two songs. Then they mimic Nathan Brandifield—his singing, his instrument imitations, and the way he walks—until they feel bad about it. Dani serves microwave burritos and Vitaminwater.

  “I want you to know that I’ve heard weird stuff at school,” Gordy says while they’re clearing the dishes, “and I don’t believe any of it.”

  “I don’t want to talk about that,” Dani says. She was having so much fun until this second. Now this morning, too, is tainted.

  “Anyway I think it’s far more likely that Nathan Brandifield is the babysitter.”

  Dani pretends to be distracted by the dishwasher.

  “I’m sorry, that was mean,” Gordy says. “I was trying to make you laugh.”

  “Look,” Dani says, shutting off the dishwasher and closing the cupboards.

  Gordy looks out the kitchen window at the swimming pool and fountain.

  “I meant ‘Look, I’m about to say something.’ ”

  “All right.” Her face is sideways to him. She can feel him staring at her ear as though it’s the most important ear in the world.

  “This isn’t a good time for me to be seeing somebody. For the next couple of months, at least.”

  Gordy waits for her to say more. She’s wearing a tank top, pj bottoms, and flip-flops, and although she hadn’t gone to any trouble to look nice, she realizes from the way he’s watching her that she might be sensational-looking and never need to change anything visual about herself. It’s a great realization, but it comes at a bad time. If it had come at a better time she would have rolled it into a corner of her mind like a sacred ball.

  “Is it because I made fun of Nathan? I know you guys are friendly.”

  “No, I imitated him too.”

  “Then I don’t understand. Look, I told you I don’t believe any of those rumors.”

  “I need to be by myself for a while.”

  “Because of what happened with your mom? Because you’re grounded?”

  “Even aside from being grounded.”

  Dani turns around. Gordy’s lower lip is trembling. She’s studied that lip carefully over the school year. It’s pretty muscular from playing the French horn, so in her texts to Shelley she calls it his MLL: muscular lower lip. Gordy looks so vulnerable right now. Dani thinks about his insides being on the outside. She squeezes her hands together.

  “All right,” he says. “I’m not going to push you. Just tell me, will you call me if you ever change your mind? If the time is right?”

  To lose him so soon after losing Alex—Dani feels bereft. She opens the back door. “Sneak out this way,” she says. “Thanks for coming by and cheering me up.”

  “Or don’t call me,” he says on the back patio. He smiles bravely. “Send me a secret signal. I’ll know it when I hear it.”

  48

  At four thirty Beth calls the house phone. Dani assumes she’s allowed to pick up.

  “What’s going on?” Dani asks. “I thought you’d be home by now. It’s too quiet.” She’s sincere about the quiet, though she’ll never tell Beth that Gordy was here.

  “Work is going well, but”—Beth lowers her voice to a whisper—“the other thing is going very badly.”

  Dani’s heart pounds. “Where are you? No one knows, do they? From what I can tell, they don’t seem to know.”

  “I’m in my car. I don’t know why I’m whispering. It’s just that this thing is the only thing people talk about. And I’m acting like I know nothing about it, but that looks suspicious too. So I don’t know how much to say. God, I wish it were Monday!”

  “I’m sorry, Mom.”

  Beth is silent. She’s probably changing lanes on the highway. “It may be my fault as much as yours. I don’t know.”

  “Have you told Sean?” Dani asks her.

  “I’m not telling Sean anything. I’ve told him I can’t see him for a few days because you’re having teenage problems. Okay, I’ll be home in half an hour.”

  Dani lies on the couch. She and Shelley always hated being indoors. If there was a thunderstorm, they’d go to the beach and watch the waves. If there was a blizzard, they’d build a fort.

  She checks the Internet again. There’s a new editorial in the Beacon-Times.

  49

  Saturday, May 15

  Editorial

  PUBLIC: GIVE US THE NAME

  In the short time since the Beacon-Times ran a story about a teenage Hawthorne babysitter who revealed to police that she had murderous thoughts about a boy in her care, our office has been inundated with phone calls, e-mails, and visits from readers insisting that we name the sitter. Readers have used the phrase “the public’s right to know,” citing safety concerns and risks to the community. However, the Hawthorne Police Department has made a compelling case that the incident is under control. Since no crime was committed and the girl in question has obeyed the police’s insistence that she seek treatment from a mental health professional, the Beacon-Times has respected the department’s request that the teen’s identity not be revealed.

  To make a judgment call that disagreed with the wishes of a large number of our readers was not easy, and our editorial board did not arrive at this decision lightly. But our final assessment was that curiosity does not equal the right to know. Those who disagree should consider that some of our callers and correspondents also insisted on being told the names of both the five-year-old child and the child’s mother. The identities of both parties, of course, are protected due to the minor status of the child involved.

  During the past forty-eight hours the Beacon-Times and its editors have been accused of yielding to the undue influence of family connections. Some readers have insisted that if the girl in question were from a poor family rather than a prosperous one, or were new in town rather than socially well connected, her name would have appeared in the paper immediately. But the Beacon-Times has established guidelines for revealing the identities of people in the community, and we have hewn to those guidelines in this case as we have in every case since 1995.

  We hope that readers who are angry or disappointed at our decision keep in mind that someday they could be at the fringe—or even the center—of a newsworthy event, and the Beacon-Times would be equally judicious in deciding how much to reveal about that story.

  Comments:

  Beavis wrote:

  The Beacon-Times is worried about getting sued, and that is the whole reason behind their journalistic imperative, period.

  Waster wrote:

  Youre right its money period.

  Dani hears Beth’s key in the door. She smells Chinese food.

  “Who wants kung pao chicken?” Beth asks. When Dani doesn’t answer, Beth comes to the couch and reads over Dani’s shoulder.

  “All right,” Beth says when she reaches the end of the comments. “I’m calling Boston to see if we can go in earlier.”

  She goes to her office, then comes back in a few minutes to say the lawyer can’t see them on Sunday because he’s playing golf.

  “I could speak to someone in town,” Beth says while they’re eating. “I could get some local advice to tide us over. But given all that’s going around”—she points at Dani’s laptop”—I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  Beth gives Dani five minutes with her phone. Dani hears Gordon asking her to go for a run this morning.

  “That boy?” Beth asks. “You really like him?”

  Dani nods, handing the phone back. Her eyes feel teary.

  “When this is over, honey,” Beth says. “All in good time.”

  “He said his dad met you and thinks you’re nice.”


  “When did he say that?” Beth asks.

  Oops, Dani thinks. “Last time I talked to him,” she says, which is true.

  “Dani,” Beth says that night at bedtime, “is there anything you’ve been telling Dr. Kumar that I should know? Anything I should hear that would help me understand?”

  Dani shakes her head no. “Thanks for looking after me, Mom,” she says.

  Beth goes into her room and locks the door.

  50

  Sunday morning Beth makes pancakes and bacon.

  “Gotta keep our strength up, right?” she says. She’s going to work today, because Sunday is the biggest day in real-estate sales and because, clearly, she wants to. “I want to look as normal as possible. And I hope people have found something else to talk about by now,” Beth says.

  Dani wishes she could get out and do something too.

  “You’ll be all right, won’t you?” Beth asks Dani. “Can you avoid getting bored?”

  “I’ll poke around online,” Dani says. “And there’s always homework.”

  Beth gives Dani five minutes on the phone.

  A message came in from Gordy last night:

  “Look, I’m sorry to call so soon after you sent me away. I just want to be sure you’re all right.”

  And another one this morning: “I completely missed what you tried to say yesterday. Is this why you stopped babysitting? Please can you call me?”

  “I’ll check in this afternoon,” Beth says. “You can pick up the phone when I call.”

  It’s a warm day in the middle of May, so Dani puts on a sundress and flip-flops. She pours more coffee and gives herself a pedicure. While her toes are drying, she opens her laptop. Maybe Beth is right, and people found something else to talk about. The Beacon-Times has no new stories about the Babysitter, but forty more people have commented on the editorial.

  Coastal160 wrote:

  Did anyone see a cruiser in front of the Solomons’ house on Highgate Road Friday?

  Sanddollar wrote:

  I saw Beth Solomon in the market this a.m. She had on big honking sunglasses and a headscarf like she was Mary-Kate Olsen or somebody.

  Sheepdogg wrote:

  Nice sighting, Sanddollar. Check out my blog, The-DoggHouse, for breaking news.

  Waster wrote:

  BetSo hot! Dani not so hot! Must take after the old man.

  MPthree wrote:

  She’s all right. I would do her no problem but you’d have to watch your back the whole time.

  All right, they know, Dani says to herself. Everybody knows.

  51

  What to do? It would be fine, Dani decides, to write an e-mail and not send it, to save it as a draft and let Beth press Send if she decided it was okay. Dani’s hands shake. She has trouble keeping her fingers on the keyboard.

  Dear Dad,

  How are you? I hope this is still your correct address. If it bounces back I’ll do a search or I’ll ask Mom if she has it. I suppose I could send snail mail, but this issue is rather time-sensitive so I don’t think I have time.

  What I want to ask is, how would you feel about me coming to stay for a while? Maybe a few months, or maybe longer. Since summer is coming, I don’t have to worry about school. Mom would pay my plane fare and I could get some kind of job out there to pay for my own expenses. Maybe I could be a whitewater guide or something like that.

  Dani rereads her message while one finger hovers on the Delete key. Her dad and Julia won’t want her around their kids. In fact she should avoid kids for a while; maybe the rest of her life.

  Dani closes her laptop. She curls on the couch, trying to devise a strategy. A lot of people who liked her before are going to hate her now. She doesn’t know where she’ll be able to hide if not here. She tries to push away a belief that some kind of punishment is inevitable, the natural cause-and-effect outcome of having these bad thoughts.

  52

  The Dogg House

  Sniffing Out That Babysitter

  Your blog host: Sheepdogg

  Out of Sight, Out of Mind?

  Word on the street is that the Babyslitter, I mean Babysitter, is hiding at home in the swank neighborhood of Ocean View. She was not seen in public either Friday or Saturday. Does she believe that if she doesn’t show her face, this will go away . . . poof?

  Sheepdogg knows.

  To Sheepdogg:

  Just a private note of encouragement from a group of fans in another part of the country. We are a national clearinghouse for crimes that are underattended by local law enforcement. We like the way you are going about writing on this case. Please look at our website; we’d love for you to check us out.

  Rowdie

  POK (Protect Our Kids)

  To Rowdie:

  Thanks for the props. Working hard on the blog without much feedback. My dad is a cop, really frustrated. I’m very interested in your group. Stay in touch. Would like to visit sometime, btw. Montana looks phenomenal!

  To Sheepdogg:

  How would you like to be our eyes and ears in Hawthorne?

  53

  The landline rings while Dani’s on the computer. It rings seven times, twelve times, twenty-two times. Dani’s mom would never let the phone ring twenty-two times.

  On her e-mail Dani has a message from MyFace.com saying “Check out the new girl in town!” It sends her to her own profile page.

  54

  MyFace Profile

  Name: Dani Death

  “Aspiring kiddie killer”

  Sex: Female

  Age: 17 years old

  Location: Hawthorne, Massachusetts, United States

  Last log-in: May 16

  Mood: cold

  Interested in:

  General: being crazy

  Sounds: human screaming, blood gurgling from an open wound

  Movies: Finding Nemo Hacked to Pieces

  About me: I am a psychotic bitch who thinks about killing kids. How about I watch yours while you go to the movies? Don’t rush home and don’t bother calling—everything is JUST FINE.

  Who I’d like to meet: your local kindergarten.

  55

  Dani hears a car in the driveway. She shouldn’t go to the door unless she knows it’s Beth. She stands in the living room and tries to peer out the picture window. It’s a bright blue May day. She moves the curtain slowly, so no one will detect her. She hears a crash and something hard comes through the plate glass, getting caught in the curtain. The car’s horn blares like someone’s leaning on it, as intrusive and unstoppable a noise as the twenty-two rings, as the driver takes off in a spray of gravel.

  The object lies on the carpet surrounded by shards of glass as large as Dani’s hand. It’s a stone the size of a baseball, wrapped in a piece of paper secured by rubber bands. Dani snaps off the bands, unfolds the paper, and reads

  DIE KIDDIE KILLER

  56

  Dani dials Shelley’s number.

  “It was you!” Shelley says. “You’re the babysitter. I can’t believe it, Dani.”

  “Are you home? Can I come over now?” Dani asks. “Can I stay at your house for a few days?”

  “Are you kidding? My mom would never have you in the house. How could you treat Alex that way?”

  “I never did anything. I only thought about doing it. That’s what I needed to tell you that day. That was my secret. I had a secret, just like you have a secret.”

  “My secret is nothing like your secret, Dani.”

  Dani hears the dial tone.

  57

  Dani tries to stuff things into her pack. Her hands shake so much that they slow her down. She calls her mother and the voice mail message comes on, soothing, cajoling, and full of confidence. “You’ve reached Beth Solomon of Solomon and Cahill Properties . . .”

  “Mom, I have to go!” she yells. “They’re after me.”

  She runs the same way she sent Gordon, out the back door, past the fountain, and into the woods.

  58

  Su
nday, May 16

  MONSTER

  says the headline in the National Envestigator News Online. Below that word is a photo of Dani from the Hawthorne Beacon-Times sports page, cropped to show only her head and shoulders. She has hit the ball out of bounds and has a disgusted expression on her face. Blown up to six inches, the picture looks angry and deranged. Like the face of a monster.

  part 4

  THE WOODS

  59

  Protect Our Kids

  Chat Room

  SHEEPDOGG: Problem solved, Rowdie. Dani Death is gone. Since yesterday.

  ROWDIE: Where is she now?

  SHEEPDOGG: Don’t know just yet, but we’ve got her on the run. I’ll sniff around. Maybe once we flushed her out she got whacked by an irate parent.

  ROWDIE: Too bad the cops don’t have the cojones to handle that girl. Cops aren’t good for much other than speeding tickets.

  SHEEPDOGG: Not their fault. They wanted to lock her up but their hands were tied. Anyway, I heard that when BetSo got home from selling McMansions her lil darlin was gone.

  ROWDIE: That’s right. She escaped Hawthorne and is off to some other town to chop babies into Tater Tots!

  SHEEPDOGG: What do we do now, assuming she remains at large?

  ROWDIE: POK will list her in its offender registry and post her picture in all the surrounding towns. We’ll get the word out to POK Massachusetts and POK New Hampshire. And we’ll keep working our media contacts. Somebody will find her.

  SHEEPDOGG: Bell rang. Gotta go. Check in later.

  ROWDIE: Good dog!

  60

  Dear Alex,

  It’s hard for me to write this. You must be confused, since one minute I was there and the next I was gone. I don’t know what you’ve been told about me or by whom, but I want you to know that I never really wanted to hurt you. Just the opposite—I wanted to keep you safe.