Moonlight Mile Part 12

"Exceptionally."

"Hobbies?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Hobbies. Things she liked to do besides be rational all the time."

She hit RETURN RETURN and sat back for a moment. She tapped a pen on her desk and looked up at the ceiling. "She liked dogs." and sat back for a moment. She tapped a pen on her desk and looked up at the ceiling. "She liked dogs."

"Dogs."

"Any kind, any shape. She volunteered at Animal Rescue in East Cambridge. An act of community service is a prerequisite for graduation."

"What about the pressure to fit in? She's a kid from the wrong side of the tracks. The girls here drive Daddy's Lex. She doesn't even get Daddy's bus pa.s.s."

She nodded. "Her freshman year, I seem to remember, some of the girls got a little cruel. They taunted her about her lack of jewelry, her clothes."

"Her clothes."

"They were perfectly acceptable, don't get me wrong. But they were from Gap or Aeropostale, not Nordstrom or Barneys. Her sungla.s.ses were Polaroids you'd buy at CVS. Her cla.s.smates wore Maui Jim and D&G. Amanda's bag was Old Navy ..."

"The other girls had Gucci."

She smiled and shook her head. "More like Fendi or Marc Jacobs, maybe Juicy Couture. Gucci skews a bit older."

"How tragically unhip of me."

Another smile. "That's the thing-we can joke about it. To us, it's silly. To fifteen- and sixteen-year-old girls, though?" can joke about it. To us, it's silly. To fifteen- and sixteen-year-old girls, though?"

"Life and death."

"Pretty much."

I thought of Gabby. Was this the world I was raising her for?

She said, "But then the hara.s.sment just stopped."

"Just stopped."

Another nod. "Amanda's one of those rare kids who truly doesn't seem to care what you think. Compliment her or criticize her, you get the same even gaze coming back at you. I wonder if the other girls got tired of throwing paint at her when none of it would stick." A bell rang and she looked out her window for a moment as a dozen teenage girls flowed past. "You know, I misspoke at the outset."

"How so?"

"I said Amanda wouldn't run away and I believe that she wouldn't physically physically run away. But ... well, she was, in another sense, running away all the time. That's what brought her here. That's what got her straight A's. She was putting more distance between herself and her mother every day of her life. Are you aware that Amanda orchestrated her own admission to this school?" run away. But ... well, she was, in another sense, running away all the time. That's what brought her here. That's what got her straight A's. She was putting more distance between herself and her mother every day of her life. Are you aware that Amanda orchestrated her own admission to this school?"

I shook my head.

"She applied, she filled out the financial aid forms, even applied for some rare and rather obscure federal grants. She started doing all her prep work in the seventh grade. Her mother never had a clue."

"That could be Helene's epitaph."

She gave Helene's name a soft roll of her eyes. "When I met with Amanda and her mother for the first time, Helene was actually annoyed. Here was her daughter, set to attend a reasonably prestigious prep school on full financial aid, and Helene looked around this office and said, 'Public school was good enough for me.' "

"Sure, she's a poster child for Boston public schools, ol' Helene is."

Mai Nghiem smiled. "Financial aid, scholars.h.i.+ps-they cover just about everything if you know how to look for the applicable ones, and Amanda did. Tuition, books, covered. But never fees. And fees add up. Amanda paid hers every term in cash. I remember one year, forty dollars of it was paid in coins she'd earned from a tip jar at a doughnut shop. I've met few students in my career who were given less by their parents yet worked so hard you knew nothing would stop them."

"But something has derailed her. At least recently."

"That's what troubles me. She was going to Harvard. On a full ride. Or Yale. Brown. Take your pick. Now, unless she comes back real quick, and erases three weeks of missed exams, missed papers, gets her GPA all the way back up to above-flawless, where's she going to go?" Another shake of her head. "She didn't run."

"Well, that's unfortunate."

She nodded. "Because now you have to a.s.sume she was taken. Again."

"Yeah, I do," I said. "Again."

An incoming mail message dinged on her computer and she glanced at the screen, gave whatever she saw there an almost imperceptible head shake. She looked back at me. "I grew up in Dorchester, you know. Just off the Ave. In between Savin Hill and Fields Corner."

"Not far from where I grew up."

"I know." She tapped the keyboard a couple of times and sat back. "I was a junior at Mount Holyoke when you found her the first time. I was obsessed with the case. I used to hurry back to my dorm to see the six o'clock news every night. We all thought she was dead, that whole long winter and into the spring."

"I remember," I said, wis.h.i.+ng I didn't.

"And then-wow-you found her. All those months later. And you brought her home."

"And what'd you think?"

"About what you did?"

"Yeah," I said.

"You did the right thing," she said.

"Oh." I almost smiled in grat.i.tude.

She met my eyes. "But you were still wrong."

At Amanda's locker, I stared at textbooks that were stacked tallest to shortest, the edges of their spines precisely aligned to the edge of the shelf. A Red Sox jersey hung from a hook on the door, dark blue with red piping, a red 19 on the back. Otherwise, nothing. No pictures taped to the door, no decals on the wall, no array of lip gloss or bracelets.

"So she likes dogs and the Red Sox," I said.

"Why do you say the Red Sox?" Mai asked.

"She's wearing a Sox warm-up jacket in a photo I have."

"I've seen her wear this jersey a lot. Sometimes a T-s.h.i.+rt. And I've seen the warm-up jacket. But I'm I'm a fan, you know? I can talk till I'm blue about the farm system and the logic-or lack thereof-behind Theo's latest trade, et cetera." a fan, you know? I can talk till I'm blue about the farm system and the logic-or lack thereof-behind Theo's latest trade, et cetera."

I smiled. "Me, too."

"Amanda, though? Couldn't. I tried to engage her half a dozen times until I realized, looking in her eyes one day, that she couldn't name the starting rotation. She couldn't tell you how many seasons Wakefield was with the team or even how many games out of first they were this week."

"So a fair-weather fan?"

"Worse," she said, "a fas.h.i.+on fan. She liked wearing the colors. That's all."

"The heathen," I said.

"She was the perfect student," Stephanie Tyler said. "I mean, per-fect." Miss Tyler taught AP European History. She was about twenty-eight. She had ash-blond hair cut in a bob and not a strand of it out of place. She had the look of someone used to being tended to. "She never spoke out of turn and always came to cla.s.s prepared. You never caught her tweeting or texting in cla.s.s, playing video games on her BlackBerry or what-have-you."

"She had a BlackBerry?"

She gave it some thought. "Amanda, no, come to think of it. She had a regular old cell. But you'd be amazed how many of these girls have BlackBerrys. Freshmen, too. Some have cell phones and and BlackBerrys. The juniors and seniors drive BMW 5 series and BlackBerrys. The juniors and seniors drive BMW 5 series and Jaguars Jaguars." The outrage made her lean forward, as if we were conspiring. "High school's a whole new world, don't you find?"

I kept my face noncommittal. I wasn't sure if high school was much different than it had ever been; only the accessories were.

"So Amanda ..."

"Per-fect," Miss Tyler said again. "Showed up every day, answered when called upon, usually correctly, went home at day's end, and prepared for tomorrow. You can't ask for more."

"Any friends?"

"Just Sophie."

"Sophie?" I said.

"Sophie Corliss. Her father's the local fitness guy? Brian Corliss. He gives advice on the Channel 5 news sometimes."

I shook my head. "I only watch The Daily Show The Daily Show."

"So how do you get your news?"

"I read it."

"Right," she said with a sudden glazing of the eyes. "Anyway, a lot of people know who he is."

"Uh, okay," I said. "And his daughter?"

"Sophie. She and Amanda were like twins."

"They looked alike?"

Stephanie Tyler c.o.c.ked her head slightly. "No, but I had to remind myself who was who. Isn't that strange? Amanda was shorter and fairer-skinned, Sophie was darker and much taller, but I had to keep remembering those differences."

"So they were tight."

"Since first period, first day, freshman year."

"What did they bond over?"

"They were both iconoclasts, though with Sophie, I think it was more a matter of fas.h.i.+on than nature. It was like ... Amanda's an outsider because she doesn't know any other way to be, which makes other kids respect her. Sophie, though, she chose to define herself as an outsider, which makes her ..."

"A poseur," I said.

"A bit, yeah."

"So other kids respected Amanda."

Miss Tyler nodded.

"Did they like her?"

"No one disliked disliked her." her."

"But."

"But no one really knew her either. I mean, other than Sophie. At least, no one I can think of. That kid's an island."

"Great student," Tom Dannal said. Dannal taught AP Macroeconomics but looked like the football coach. "One in a million, really. Everything we say we want our kids to be, you know? Polite, focused, smart as a whip. Never acted up or gave anyone a minute's trouble."

"I keep hearing this," I said. "The perfect kid."

"Right," he said. "And who the f.u.c.k wants that?"

"Tommy," Mai Nghiem said to him.

"No, no, really." He held up a hand. "I mean, Amanda, okay, she was nice. She could be pleasant and personable. But, you know that saying about there being no there there there? That's her. I had her in microec last year and macroec now, and she was my best student in both. And yet? Couldn't tell you thing-one about her outside of her work. Not one. You ask her a personal question, she turns it back on you. Ask her how things are going, you get, 'Fine. You?' And she always seemed fine. She did. Always seemed content. But you'd look in her eyes and you'd get the impression she was approximating human behavior. She'd studied people, learned how to walk and talk like one, but she was still outside looking in." there? That's her. I had her in microec last year and macroec now, and she was my best student in both. And yet? Couldn't tell you thing-one about her outside of her work. Not one. You ask her a personal question, she turns it back on you. Ask her how things are going, you get, 'Fine. You?' And she always seemed fine. She did. Always seemed content. But you'd look in her eyes and you'd get the impression she was approximating human behavior. She'd studied people, learned how to walk and talk like one, but she was still outside looking in."

"You're saying she was an alien."

"I'm saying she was one of the loneliest people I've ever known."

"What about her friend?"

"Sophie?" A cold chuckle. " 'Friend' is a generous word."

I looked over at Princ.i.p.al Nghiem. She gave me a small shrug.

"I heard from another faculty member that Amanda and Sophie were pretty much joined at the hip."

"I'm not saying they weren't. I just said 'friends' wasn't how I'd describe the relations.h.i.+p. It was a bit more Single White Female Single White Female than that." than that."