Page 69 of Lula Dean's Little Library of Banned Book
“Psychedelic mushrooms,” Lindsay told her parents. “The same kind that are totally legal in Oregon.” She turned back to Ronnie. “I thought we talked about this. Your life isn’t ruined. You can go out west and learn how to help people.”
Ronnie offered the kind of indulgent smile that’s usually reserved for small children. “That was just talk. I can barely pay my rent as it is. I’ve been saving up for a PS5 for nine months and I’m still nowhere close. There’s no way I could ever get to Oregon. I might as well plan a trip to Mars. But that’s fine, because you’re the one who’s going to help people. My good deed will be helpingyou. So let me take the hit for the books. I doubt they’ll give me much jail time at all.”
For the first time in her existence, Lindsay found herself standing at the edge of despair. She recognized it at once as the deep, dark pit of hopelessness that had almost sucked Ronnie in. She knew there was no way out—and nowhere to go if she ever escaped. Lindsay had cried on the ride down to Troy and again in the police station. But now she broke down and sobbed for Ronnie and Logan and for all the other kids who’d fallen into traps towns like Troy always set for them.
Her father held Lindsay up while he guided her up the stairs and into the house.
“I’m so sorry, Ronnie,” she heard her mother say. “Lindsay’s having a rough time today. Please don’t go to the police. Stop by the house tomorrow if you don’t mind. We can talk about all this then.”
Chapter 29
The Southern Belle’s Guide to Etiquette
Bella Cummings had been stuck inside for almost a week. She couldn’t even get out of bed without her mother acting like she was going to keel over and die.
“Good Lord, Mama, I’m fine!” she argued.
Her mother took Bella’s head in her hands and stared pitifully into her eyes. “Baby, you suffered a terrible head injury. Your beautiful brains need time to heal.”
“Bella, get back upstairs and get some rest before you give your mother a goddamned stroke!” her father shouted from somewhere in the house.
Bella’s brains were the only part of her that hadn’t got any rest. She’d been thinking nonstop. Since she was five years old, she’d been plotting her big escape from Troy. She planned to live someplace like San Francisco or New York when she wasn’t traveling to far-flung locations. She’d take lots of lovers and turn down all their proposals. Somehow, she’d find a way to make gobs of money while simultaneously saving the world. At the end of the summer, Bella would take the first big step toward that goal. She’d be leaving Troy behind for Brown University in Rhode Island. It was a dream come true. But she didn’t want to go.
Something had happened the evening of the rally. She hadn’t told anyone about it because there was a good chance they’d just chalk it up to brain damage. But Bella swore she’d felt a powerful new presence inthe square that night. According toThe Southern Belle’s Guide to Etiquette,which she kept under her pillow, the ancient god of Justice had been female. The Egyptians called her Maat. The Romans, Justitia. In Greece, she was known as Themis. And when Themis was not obeyed, Nemesis, the goddess of retribution, would show up to kick butt and take names. Bella liked to think that’s what had happened. Justice had not been served. Now the woman who’d been wronged all those years earlier had come for Augustus Wainwright’s legacy. It was her presence Bella had felt at the rally.
The spell that had brought her back was simple. A few strands of DNA. A family Bible. And a collection of books that told the unvarnished truth. It was a spell that would work anywhere in America, and the justice it released could take down criminals who’d gone unpunished for centuries.
Voices in the foyer downstairs dragged her attention away. Just as she’d been doing since she was little, Bella tiptoed to the stairs to eavesdrop.
“I know y’all are worried about her.” It was Wilma’s voice. “That’s why I brought Dr. Chokshi. If he doesn’t give her a clean bill of health, we’ll leave her in bed. But if she’s good to go, I have use for her.”
“But Meemaw—” Bella’s dad began to argue.
“You’re a grown-up now, hon. You can call me Wilma.”
Bella stifled a laugh during the stunned pause that followed.
“Don’t make me stand here all day,” Wilma added. “It’s an emergency, David.”
“Okay then, Wilma.” Bella’s father had given in. “As long as the doctor says she’s out of danger.”
Bella raced back to her room with a smile on her face and waited for the knock on the door.
“Dr. Chokshi!” She feigned surprise when he stepped into the room.
“Hey, brawler,” he said. “How you feeling?”
“Ready for another round,” Bella told him.
She passed the neurological exam with flying colors. Dr. Chokshi said he’d never seen pupils dilate and constrict so perfectly.
“You satisfied?” Wilma asked Bella’s parents.
“I suppose so,” Bella’s father said reluctantly.
“Then give me a moment with your girl if you don’t mind.”
Everyone else left the bedroom and Wilma closed the door. There was a twinkle in the older woman’s eye and a spring in her step. Last time Bella had seen her great-grandma so fired up, Wilma had been piping fresh whipped cream into a penis cake.
