The Pumpkin Man

CHAPTER

SIX

Midterms came and went in a blink. Jennica struggled to keep up, but the days passed in a blur. She still got calls from newspaper reporters following up on the mysterious murder of her father, but the story faded from front-page news to back-page updates. The police still said they had nothing, and Jenn was growing frustrated with their handling of the situation. Whenever she asked about the exact details surrounding the discovery of the body, the lieutenant grew taciturn, suggesting there were a couple clues that they were holding close to the vest.

She’d given up asking, though. It didn’t matter. Her dad was dead, and the killer had walked away with his head. His head! What the fuck? How much more did she really want to know?

The fourth-period bell interrupted her musings, and the class slapped shut chapter seventeen of their textbooks as one. In moments the room was empty except for a familiar figure in the doorway. Sister Beatrice again. Jennica groaned. The presence of the principal was never a good omen. The name sounded so sweet and unassuming and kind. The woman was anything but.

“Ms. Murphy,” the sister said, her mouth drawn in a thin line. “I need to see you in my office.”

That was an even worse sign.

Jennica scooped up her papers, grabbed her bag and followed the nun down the hallway. Sister Beatrice cut a path through a mob of young teens all scurrying to their lockers to stow books and grab lunches, but Jenn had a sinking feeling that she wasn’t going to be hungry for lunch after this meeting. And she was right.

“Sit down,” Sister Beatrice instructed, taking her place behind a large desk whose blond wood was almost completely hidden by stacks of paper. “As you know, we’ve had to look very closely at the budget for the remainder of this year and next. We started the year with fewer students than we expected and have had several switch to public schools since. At the same time, expenses continue to climb. Last night, we approved a reduction in force.”

Oh crap. RIF’ed in her first year? That meant she’d be without a check come summer if she didn’t move fast.

“This impacts several of our staff,” Sister Beatrice continued, “and I’m sorry to tell you that you are one of them. Unfortunately, it is effective immediately. If you could turn in your grade books before you leave today, we’d appreciate it.”

Jenn didn’t know what to say.

The principal didn’t give her time to think of anything. She pushed a formal-looking letter forward and pointed to a line with her name at the bottom of the page. “Please sign.”

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Jenn sat in a stall in the bathroom and cried for a few minutes, but that didn’t help. She finished up her classes, then opened and closed the drawers on her desk five times, looking for possessions she didn’t want to accidentally leave behind. On the sixth look, she pocketed a box of the school’s paperclips. She’d need them for résumé letters.

She dropped off her grades at the front desk without a word, then fled to her car, just barely holding back another spate of tears. She’d thought that her dad’s death bled her dry, but from somewhere deep inside she found a new reserve of saltwater—and remorse. She tried to picture Rudy’s face and told herself that at least she wouldn’t have to deal with the Neanderthal any longer, but instead of cheering her up, the idea of never seeing Rudy “pee” on the floor again just made things worse. As angry as he’d made her, she still cared. That had always been her problem with boys, really. No matter how much they hurt her, she forgave them. They used her, and still she opened her arms. Usually to empty air.

When she finally arrived home, Jennica walked into the foyer and checked the mail slot. Apparently Kirstin was still out, because the box was full. Typical. They rarely drove to work together because Kirstin was always traipsing off somewhere else afterward.

She riffled through the envelopes as she walked up the stairs: Advertising coupons. An electric bill. A Visa bill. A “Have You Seen This Child?” flyer. An unstamped envelope, hand-addressed to her . . .

Frowning, she opened the last and pulled out a single sheet of paper. It was from her landlord. Absently, she let herself into the apartment and kicked the door closed behind her. As she read the short but painfully clear letter, she sat on the couch and found yet another reserve of tears.

Kirstin came home an hour later and dropped her bag on the floor. “They fuckin’ fired me,” she announced, hands on hips. “They didn’t even let me finish out the term. RIF’ed to the curb like, NOW, and don’t let the door hit you in your pretty little ass on your way out.”

Jenn looked up from the arm of the couch, her eyes red. “You, too?” She’d been so upset, she hadn’t even thought to check. When something hurt her, she retreated into herself. Her friend was the opposite: she told the world.

“Patrick and Darren took me out for a beer afterward. They couldn’t believe it,” Kirstin said. “I don’t know how the hell they’re going to cover my classrooms.”

Jenn shook her head. She’d been wondering the same thing.

“Sister Beatrice didn’t even give me a chance to ask—” Finally it dawned on Kirstin what Jennica had said, and she eyed her friend in shock. “Wait a minute, they canned you, too? Effective immediately?”

Jenn nodded.

“Oh, shit.” Kirstin’s mouth hung open in shock. “How the hell are we going to cover the rent?”

Jenn laughed. “Oh, that’s easy. We won’t have to.”

“Huh?”

Jenn shoved forward the letter from the landlord. “The building’s going condo. We have sixty days to get out.”