P Is for Peril

ride?"
    Leila leaned forward, looking across her companion. When she saw me, her expression registered a look of confusion that signaled recognition without context. She knew she knew me, but she didn't remember how. The kid with her leveled a gaze at me filled with hostility and disdain. I took in the smooth complexion, the rain-bedraggled lank brown hair, the plain white T-shirt visible under the open leather jacket. I was startled by the boobs, since I'd assumed the kid was a male. This had to be Paulie. I could see she was destined to be beautiful even though, at the moment, she was unkempt and had defiance written into every inch of her slender frame. She wasn't conventionally pretty, but she had a fierce, worldly air: big dark eyes, cheekbones sharpened by poor nutrition. A photographer with the right instincts could make a fortune from the image of belligerent sexuality she projected.
    I focused on Leila. "Hi. I'm Kinsey Millhone. We met last Friday at the beach house. I just came from your mom's. She's worried about you. You should have let her know you were leaving school."
    "I'm fine, but tell her thanks for her concern." Leila's tone was sarcastic. Her flippancy was intended to impress her friend, but the insolence was hard to sustain with rainwater dripping down her face. Two strands of hair were plastered to her cheek and the mascara on her lashes had turned to a watery ink.
    "I think you should tell her yourself. She needs to know you're okay."
    Leila and Paulie exchanged a look. Paulie said something to Leila under her breath; co-conspirators, trying to make the best of the fact they'd been caught. Paulie eased the backpack from her shoulders and passed it to Leila. After a few murmured words, Paulie took off toward the highway at a pace meant to convey nonchalance.
    Leila leaned closer to the half-opened window. Her eyes were heavily lined, the lids shadowed with turquoise blue. Her lipstick was dark brown, too harsh a shade for her fragile blond coloring. "You can't make me go home."
    "I'm not here to make you do anything," I said. "You might consider getting out of the rain."
    "I will if you promise not to tell Mom who was with me."
    "I'm assuming that's Paulie." Leila said nothing, which I took as assent. "Come on. Get in. I'll drop you off at your dad's.", She thought about it briefly, then opened the car door and slid into the passenger seat, shoving her backpack into the cramped space at her feet. Her hair had been bleached so many times it looked synthetic, still arranged in the odd mix of dreadlocks and tufts that must have made the boarding school authorities wring their hands in dismay. Or maybe Fitch was progressive, a school where students were allowed to "express themselves" through outlandish appearances and oddball behaviors. In the body-heated confines of the car, I could smell eau-de-marijuana and the feminine musk of undergarments worn several days too long.
    I glanced over my shoulder, checking the flow of traffic behind me, and pulled onto the road once the passing cars had cleared. In my rearview mirror, I could see Paulie's departing figure, reduced by now to the size of a toy soldier. "How old is Paulie?"
    "Sixteen."
    "I take it your mom's not that fond of her. What's the problem?"
    "Mom doesn't like anything I do."
    "Why'd you leave school without permission?"
    "How'd you know where I was going?" she asked, bypassing the issue of truancy.
    "Your mother figured it out. When we get to a phone, I want you to call and tell her where you are. She's been worried sick." I didn't mention royally pissed off as well.
    "Why don't you do it? You'll turn around and talk to her, anyway."
    "Of course I will. You're a minor. I'm not going to contribute to your bad behavior." We drove for a block in silence. Then I said, "I don't get what's bugging you."
    "I hate Fitch. That's what's bugging me, if it's any of your business."
    "I thought you got sent to Fitch because you screwed up in public school."
    "I hated it up here, too. Bunch of goof-offs and retards. Everybody was so dumb-I was bored to death. Classes were a joke. I've got better things to do."
    We crossed State at the intersection and headed into a residential area called South Rockingham. "What's wrong with Fitch?"
    "The girls are such snobs. All they care about is how much money their fat-ass daddies make."
    "I thought you had friends."
    "Well, I don't."
    "What about Sherry?"
    Leila stole a look at me. "What about her?"
    "I'm just