Death Before Facebook

why would he kill him?”
    “It might not have anything to do with the flashbacks. Maybe that’s a blind alley.”
    “Oh, sure.”
    “I don’t know—maybe it was Pearce and he’s protecting him. Maybe he’s Pearce’s lover.”
    “Was, you mean. Was. He likes me now, remember?”
    She turned away smiling, intent on washing lettuce for the burgers. Dee-Dee was definitely interested. He’d had so many friends who died, he’d been too depressed even to think about romance for a long, long time. Maybe he had sex with someone or other—Skip didn’t know—but he sure didn’t have relationships.
    The doorbell rang.
    “That’ll be Cindy Lou. I asked her for dinner.”
    “How come you never ask anybody good when I’m home?”
    God, we’re like an old married couple!
she thought as she went to answer the door. She wondered if she was about to be as jealous of Layne as Dee-Dee was of Steve.
    Sheila moved out into the hall and, catching a glimpse of dark skin, came tearing to the front of the house. “Oh. I thought you were Darryl.”
    “I’m only Cindy Lou.” She would have shaken hands, but Dee-Dee interjected himself between her and Sheila, kissed her on the cheek, and said, “Haven’t got time to say good-bye. Hello.”
    Kenny, who’d popped out as well, was the only one polite enough to chuckle. “Hey, Cindy Lou,” he said, and stuck out his hand as if he were grown up and a graduate of all the good schools put together. Cindy Lou lit up.
    What a pleaser
, Skip thought, and felt a twinge for Sheila, who’d never learned the technique. Life seemed so much harder for her.
    But Cindy Lou turned to Sheila. “So you’ve met Darryl, have you?”
    “Are you related to him?”
    “Well, I don’t know; maybe. We’re about the same color, but I’m from Detroit.”
    “Really? We’re from Minneapolis.”
    “Aren’t you glad you’re out of all that cold and mess?”
    “I don’t know. Well, sometimes.” It was the first time Sheila’d ever said anything even slightly indicating she was happy to be there.
    Skip said, “I think it’s pretty cold here,” which set off twenty minutes of raving—on everybody’s part but hers—about what really awful weather was like.
    The kids liked Cindy Lou. The important part was
Sheila
did. That was two people she’d liked in less than a week. Progress was happening.
    Kenny went back to his homework or model-building or collecting for the poor or whatever exemplary behavior he performed when discreetly disappearing like the convenient child he was.
    But Sheila stuck around. “Hey, Cindy Lou, are you married?”
    “No, are you?”
    “Not yet, but—”
    “Are you engaged or anything?”
    “Well, I do kind of have this boyfriend, but I don’t know. Now I like somebody else, but I think he likes somebody else, and it’s somebody I’m sort of close to.”
    Good grief, can she mean Darryl? Is it this bad?
    “Well, what’s his name?”
    “The new guy? Michael.”
    Skip breathed a sigh of relief. She’d probably forgotten all about her crush on Darryl.
    “And your friend? The one he likes?”
    “Annalise.”
    “Well, honey, Annalise won’t be your friend if you take her boyfriend away. And you know what’s important—your girlfriends. Boyfriends come and go—”
    “In some people’s lives,” said Skip.
    “I mean at your age,” Cindy Lou said to Sheila.
    “Oh. Well, then. Maybe if I got an older one, he might be more stable.”
    “How much older?”
    Sheila blushed.
    Skip said, teasing, “Someone like Darryl, maybe?”
    Without warning, the girl’s face clouded over. “Fuck you!” she said, and turned on her heel.
    Skip shrugged. “See what I mean? A trash-mouth.”
    “I think she’s adorable.”
    “What do you think about the way she changed like that—one minute okay, the next a little street thug?”
    “I think she felt attacked. I guess she’s pretty insecure.”
    “Wonder why. No dad. No mom—”
    “Go apologize.”
    “Huh?”
    “Yeah, go do it. It’ll make her feel better.”
    Skip found Sheila in the TV room, stretched out and pouting. “I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t know you minded being teased.”
    Sheila didn’t answer. Skip slunk back to the kitchen, feeling slapped.
    “Well?” said Cindy Lou.
    “Her Majesty’s not speaking.”
    “Don’t worry, it did some good. She’ll smooth out. She just needs a little time.”
    “I’m starting to see another problem, though. She’s only thirteen. Isn’t she