Dead Reckoning: A Sookie Stackhouse Novel

about the curriculum?” she asked finally, a little edge to her voice.
    “Why did you become a teacher?” I asked.
    “I thought it would be a wonderful thing to teach little ones the first things they needed to know to get along in the world,” she said, as if she’d pressed the button on a recording. She meant, I had a teacher who tortured me when no one was looking, and I like the small and helpless .
    “Hmmm,” I murmured. The other visitors left the room, and we were alone.
    “You need therapy,” I said, quietly and quickly. “If you act on what you see in your head, you’ll hate yourself. And you’ll ruin the lives of other people just the same way yours was ruined. Don’t let her win. Get help.”
    She gaped at me. “I don’t know . . . What on earth . . .”
    “I’m so serious,” I said, answering her next unspoken question. “I’m so serious.”
    “I’ll do it,” she said, as if the words were ripped from her mouth. “I swear, I’ll do it.”
    “You’d be better off,” I said. I gave her some more eye-to-eye. Then I left the Puppy Room.
    Maybe I’d frightened her enough, or jolted her enough, that she’d actually do what she’d promised. If not, well, I’d have to think of another tactic.
    “My job here is done, Grasshopper,” I said to myself, earning a nervous look from a very young father. I smiled at him, and after a bit of hesitation, he smiled back. I rejoined Remy and Hunter, and we completed our kindergarten tour without any further incident. Hunter gave me a questioning look, a very anxious look, and I nodded. I took care of her, I said, and I prayed that was true.
    It was really too early for supper, but Remy suggested we go to Dairy Queen and treat Hunter to some ice cream, and I agreed. Hunter was half-anxious, half-excited after the school expedition. I tried calming him with a little head-to-head conversation. Can you take me to school the first day, Aunt Sookie? he asked, and I had to steel myself to answer.
    No, Hunter, that’s your daddy’s job, I told him. But when that day comes, you call me when you get home and tell me all about it, okay?
    Hunter gave me a big-eyed soulful look. But I’m scared.
    I gave him Skeptical. You may be nervous, but everyone else will feel the same way. This is your chance to make friends, so remember to keep your mouth closed until you’ve gotten everything straight in your head.
    Or they won’t like me?
    No! I said, wanting to be absolutely clear. They won’t understand you. There’s a big difference.
    You like me?
    “You little rascal, you know I like you,” I said, smiling at him and brushing his hair back. I glanced over at Remy, standing in line at the counter to order our Blizzards. He waved to me and made a face at Hunter. Remy was making a huge effort to take all this in stride. He was growing into his role as father of an exceptional child.
    I figured he might get to relax in twelve years, give or take a few.
    You know your dad loves you, and you know he wants what’s best for you, I said.
    He wants me to be like all the other kids, Hunter said, half-sad, halfresentful.
    He wants you to be happy. And he knows that the more people who know about this gift you have, the chances are you won’t be happy. I know it’s not fair to tell you that you have to keep a secret. But this is the only secret you have to keep. If anyone talks to you about it, tell your dad or call me. If you think someone’s weird, you tell your dad. If someone tries to bad-touch you, you tell.
    I’d just scared him now. But he swallowed and said, I know about bad touching .
    You’re a smart boy, and you’re going to have lots of friends. This is just a thing about you they don’t need to know.
    Because it’s bad? Hunter’s face looked pinched and desperate.
    Heck, no! I said, outraged. Nothing wrong with you, buddy. But you know what we are is different, and people don’t always understand different. End of lecture. I gave him a kiss on the cheek.
    “Hunter, you get us some napkins,” I said in the regular way, as Remy picked up the plastic tray with our Blizzards. I’d gotten a chocolate chip one, and my mouth was watering when we’d distributed the napkins and dug into our separate cups of sinful goodness.
    A young woman with chin-length black hair came into the restaurant, spotted us, and waved in an uncertain way.
    “Look, Sport, it’s Erin,” Remy said.
    “Hey, Erin!” Hunter waved back enthusiastically, his hand