Page 121 of For Your Own Good
Dad takes a sip of sparkling water. “We certainly don’t want that to change,” he says. “However, we are concerned about your lack of extracurricular activities.”
“You had so many at Belmont,” Mom says.
“And now you have none,” Dad says.
If only they knew how he spent his days. He can barely keep up with his “extracurriculars.”
“Right. I understand,” Zach says.
Dad nods. “I knew you would.”
Zach says nothing. They already have something in mind. His job is to wait for them to tell him what to do.
“We were thinking of volunteer work,” Mom says.
“It’s important to contribute. We’ve always said community work is important,” Dad says.
“My firm contributes to a number of organizations. I’ve prepared a list for you to take a look at and see what interests you,” Mom says. “I’ll email it to you.”
Zach nods and smiles and plays along, acting like this is a great idea and he’s super happy they thought of it.
When he’s finally free to return to his life, he goes up to his room and opens his laptop. The first thing he sees is an email from an address he doesn’t recognize. The subject line isMAD SCIENTIST.
AFTER HIS FBIinterview, Teddy spends his evening reading. No TV, no internet, just some quiet time with Henry Miller’sTropic of Cancerand a cold glass of milk. It’s been a while since he’s done this. He used to do it all the time when Allison was around.
She creeps into his thoughts like those worms creep into his stomach.
He can still see her curled up in her favorite chair, reading whatever she was into at the moment. Sometimes a romance, other times a thriller—she read a little bit of everything. They used to do it together, in silence, and it was the most comfortable thing.
They had such a good marriage. Everyone says that, but in his caseit was true. They had a great life together until she insisted they have kids.
Now he’s stuck reading by himself. It isn’t the same.
After getting through just twenty pages, he gives up. The internet beckons, with the news from the day and the message boards filled with theories about the Mad Scientist. He’s not sure how he feels about that nickname, but it’s the one that stuck. In part, because it’s gender-neutral.
As the media keeps reminding everyone, the majority of murders by poison are committed by women.
Teddy already knew that.
He goes into his office, knowing he should check his emails. Ever since he became headmaster, his inbox has exploded. Many messages have been well-wishes and congratulatory, but even more have been suggestions. Parents, faculty members, and even students seem to believe they can tell him what to do.
It’s exhausting.
Today he has over a hundred new emails. Some are spam, but others require an answer. He can’t ignore the people who pay the bills, especially since so many students have withdrawn. Now, he has to be nice to them.
As he scans down the list, one catches his eye. The subject line isMAD SCIENTIST.
He opens it.
I know it’s you.
Teddy stares at the words, his heart thumping. No. Pounding. It’s pounding so hard, he closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths.
Impossible. It must be a joke. Spam. A sick message that has been sent to everyone, not just him.
He’s not bcc’d on the email; it was sent only to him. And the addresscomes from a generic account, the same kind he uses to set up his fake social media accounts. If the email weren’t so disturbing, that might be funny.
The email address, though. The first part catches his eye.
