“Our next-door neighbor when we lived in Florida. She was the nicest old lady and I swear I’d never do anything to hurt her. I’d never do that. Not ever.”
“But someone did?”
“She said I was on the porch complaining about Shadow, her poodle, barking. I never did that. I loved Shadow.”
“Whom did she tell that to?”
“My parents. She came over after . . . After . . . ” I hesitated.
“After what?”
“After someone poisoned Shadow. It wasn’t me. I wouldn’t even know where to get any rat poison but—”
“But?”
I lowered my eyes. “My daddy found an empty can under my bed.”
“And Shadow was poisoned to death?”
“Yes. Poor thing.”
“And the next incident?”
“Seventh grade. Someone put hair remover in the shampoo bottles in the girls’ locker room.”
“They said you did it?”
“No, no one said I did it that time.”
“Then what makes you think you had something to do with it?”
“Three empty bottles of hair remover in my locker.”
“Oh, I see.”
“It just went on and on until—”
“Until what?”
“Until the really bad things started to happen.”
“What sorts of things?”
The tears started falling before I felt them coming.
“I can’t do this.” I wiped my tears with my bare hand. “I’m sorry but I just can’t.”
Dr. Spencer got up, walked around the desk, and started caressing my shoulders.
“Jonquinette, please continue. I can’t help you unless you confide in me.”
“I didn’t really come here to discuss my childhood,” I whispered.
“Then what did you come here to discuss?”
“The things that are happening to me now.”
“Like?”