The Good Girls

“Yes, after the interviews we’ll have to tell them,” Dr. Rose said. “Now, Ms. Redding, with me.”

 

 

Dr. Rose whirled on her heel and headed out the door. Julie swallowed hard and stood, too. She glanced at Parker, and her friend gave her an encouraging nod. “It’ll be okay,” she whispered. But then Julie glanced at Ava, Caitlin, and Mac. They looked terrified.

 

Julie turned to Parker. “Meet me outside after?” she whispered. Parker nodded, and the other girls looked at one another worriedly. Julie wondered if she should ask them to meet her, too, but Dr. Rose cleared her throat impatiently before she could.

 

Julie followed Dr. Rose down a long hallway and into a small, dimly lit office. The room was practically bare except for a handful of framed degrees clinging to the walls, a metal desk with a faux wood veneer top, and two chairs. Julie inhaled, exhaled. One . . . two . . . three. She felt calmer immediately. She even managed to smile at the doctor as they sat down on either side of the large desk.

 

“Alright,” Dr. Rose said. “Let’s begin.”

 

Julie looked around the office. “Where’s the lie detector?”

 

“I’m sorry?” Dr. Rose asked.

 

“Aren’t you going to give me a lie detector test or something?” Julie waved her hands in the air as she spoke.

 

“No, Julie. That’s not what I’m going to do.” Dr. Rose took off her glasses and placed them on the table between them. She looked nicer, almost friendly. “We’re just going to talk.”

 

We’re just going to talk. For a moment, Julie thought about telling Dr. Rose that she already had a therapist, until she remembered that Fielder was a huge, freaky jerk. “What do you want to know?”

 

“Well, for starters, tell me a little bit about your life. Your home life, I mean.”

 

It felt like Julie had a pebble lodged in her throat. Why on earth would the woman want to know that? She cycled through a series of lies, but then realized they would probably get her nowhere. Dr. Rose surely knew everything, anyway. And if Julie did lie, she would be seen as unreliable—most likely a killer.

 

“Uh, my mom and I moved here from California a few years ago,” Julie started. “My mom is . . . um . . . she has some . . . issues.”

 

Dr. Rose nodded and pulled out a white spiral-bound notepad. “And those have been hard for you, haven’t they?”

 

Julie winced. So Dr. Rose did know. But there was something so kind about her voice. So soothing. Suddenly, a dam broke loose in Julie’s chest, and she couldn’t get the words out fast enough. “She’s a hoarder. A serious, like, diagnosable hoarder. Our house is filthy, and I think there must be twenty-six or twenty-seven cats living there. And my mom—she’s just . . . really messed up. And she hates me. She makes me feel like I’m the cause.”

 

Dr. Rose nodded, listening closely. “And how does all of that make you feel?”

 

Julie considered that for a moment. “Ashamed. Embarrassed. I didn’t want anyone in Beacon Heights to know, because when people found out in California, they were—” Julie shuddered. “God, they were so cruel. I was just a kid, you know? They called me such mean things, and no one stopped them. Not the teachers, not their parents. It was . . . it was awful.”

 

“And you were afraid that would happen again here, weren’t you?”

 

“Yes. So I tried to prevent it this time.”

 

“How did you do that?”

 

She took a breath. “I kept my home world and the outside world totally separate—I lived two lives at once. I never invited anyone to my house—ever. Except for Parker, she knew.”

 

“Parker Duvall?”

 

“Uh-huh.” Julie cleared her throat. “I told Parker my secret. And from then on, she was welcome. But no one else was—I couldn’t risk anyone else knowing the truth.”

 

Dr. Rose made a note on the pad. “Go on.”

 

Julie tried to peek to see what Rose had written, but the pad was out of view. “So, um, I never dated much, because I couldn’t bring anyone over. And it worked, for a long time. No one knows—at least no one knew, until the other day.” Her eyes welled up.

 

Dr. Rose made a few more notes. “What happened the other day?”

 

Julie let out a sad chuckle. “Ashley Ferguson. That’s what happened the other day.”

 

“Who is Ashley?”

 

“She’s this girl at school who, kind of, worshipped me, I guess. She dressed like me, she dyed her hair like mine. She followed me around . . . it was really weird.”

 

“Sounds like she really looked up to you. Isn’t that flattering on some level?”

 

Julie shrugged. “I guess, maybe at first. But it was really too much. I mean, she showed up in the bathroom of a restaurant when I was on a date, stole a lipstick right out of my purse.”

 

Dr. Rose scribbled furiously. Julie was tempted to lean over and see what was important enough to jot down, but she resisted the urge.

 

“The other day, she sent out an email to the entire school telling them about—” It was still hard to say the words out loud. “About my mom. And my house. And me. So now everyone knows.”

 

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