“But aren’t you afraid that one day the house next door might actually blow up?” The women of Calliope House had lived with the bomb threats for so long that they seemed to forget there was the possibility of a real explosion, one that was likely to kill us all.
I stood up and paced in front of the bench. No one seemed interested in addressing my question, so I didn’t pursue it. I supposed that the threat was better left at the back of the mind, where it could be ignored. Living at Calliope House was a choice that each of us had made, and we knew the risks. No one was forcing us to stay there.
“Speaking of lunatics, why did Julia stay over last night?” Marlowe asked. She and the others looked at me. I wasn’t prepared with an excuse.
“She . . . wanted to ask for advice about her book, the Austen exposé. She’s writing a chapter about Kitty.” The lie came easily, but I hated telling it. I didn’t want to be on Julia’s side.
“Did she say anything about Leeta?” Marlowe asked. “I planned to talk to her, but had to leave early yesterday. I’d like to interview Julia for The Jennifer Effect.”
“I asked her about Leeta, but she clams up as soon as her name is mentioned.”
A New York Daily truck rumbled past us, the message on its side enticing us to “Read the New York Daily for the latest on Jennifer.”
“Did you hear what happened this morning?” Marlowe said at the sight of the truck. Every morning there was something new, and I was glad to move on from the topic of Julia. Marlowe explained that video game companies had been warned to stop producing games that featured women as sex objects and victims of violence.
“Aww, what are all the kiddies gonna play now?” Rubí said. “Half the fun of childhood is learning how to splatter a prostitute’s brain with a baseball bat.”
Sana read from an article on her phone: “In the wake of the threat, several gaming companies have seen their stock fall.”
Marlowe shook her head, marveling, and handed Huck to Verena while she scribbled some notes. Verena held the sticky baby out in front of her.
“This morning I read about a bunch of teenage girls in Texas who’ve been traveling around to strip clubs,” Rubí said. “The girls hang out in the parking lot and when the men go inside, they slash their tires and break their windows. The police chief in one of the towns said that his force didn’t have the manpower to deal with an uptick in female offenders.”
Sana leaned over and whispered in my ear: “He’s talking about women like you.” I elbowed her away, not wanting the others to hear what she was saying. Sana was the only one who knew about my recent activities.
More NYPD trucks arrived, so I knew we weren’t going to be allowed back home anytime soon. I was being deprived of lunch and growing hungry and cranky, the ice cream cone not keeping my hunger at bay. I picked up my shopping bags. The long strap of my satchel crossed my chest, weighing on my shoulder because of the brick I still carried with me. “I’m off,” I said. “I have errands to run.” I’d been so busy sending books and emailing Kitty’s readers that it had been several days since I’d spent an afternoon roaming the streets, but that’s what I needed to do. Julia’s visit had left me with excess adrenaline. I loved Calliope House, but I needed to get away for a few hours, to escape being enclosed.
“What kind of errands?” Sana asked, suspicious.
“Mailing books,” I said, giving the shopping bags a jiggle.
“And what else?”
“Maybe I’ll do some shopping.”
“You mean you’re actually going to pay for something?” She said it in a playful tone, but there was bite to it. Marlowe, Verena, and Rubí looked up at me, confused, but I slinked into the crowd.
I mailed the packages of books from the post office first so I wouldn’t have to carry them around all day. The woman behind the counter stamped the envelopes, the name of a girl printed on each one. I wondered if Leeta was planning to write to them too, and if so what she would say, but email was probably tricky when you’re on the run from the police.