"It's never hard to know what boys are thinking," Maisie said.

"Or what they're looking at," Susan added.

"'Maze'?" Susan echoed. "Hey, if she gets to be Maze, can I be Suze?"

"Hmm," Maisie reflected. "Then you would have to be Marz," she said to me.

"I don't think I need another nickname, thanks. But I'll be glad to call you Suze."

Susan brightened.

I said to her, "You look so different in casual clothes. You're a lot prettier."

"Why thank you," Suze replied. "I feel prettier, too."

"Hey, do your parents know?" Maisie asked me.

"Know what?"

"That somebody died in this house?"

"I don't know. I don't think it would matter."

"But isn't it creepy? I mean, are you going to have a hard time sleeping in that room, knowing that Misty died in there?"

Sometimes Maisie didn't seem to have any feelings or tact at all. "Maybe if you keep going on about it, I will. Could you quit reminding me? I think Suze found out what we wanted to know. That's the end of it, isn't it?"

"I don't know...," Maisie mused. "I mean, two of the main people involved... we see them every day at school..."

"And," Susan added, "we don't know why the librarian-nun felt the need to lie to us."

"A cover-up," Maisie continued, and Susan added, "Something is rotten in the state of Denmark."

When Maisie and I looked at her puzzled, she explained, "Shakespeare," and at our uncomprehending looks, she waved her hand. "Never mind."

After we'd worked several hours, I was ready for a break, and even Maisie was wiping her brow.

At just that point, Mom asked the three of us if we'd go do some food shopping. "Ida and I don't want to stop, and your father has a lot to do, so if you girls don't mind walking..."

We didn't. It was fun to be out with the girls.

At one point, where the sidewalk was wide enough, we linked arms and walked three abreast: Maisie on the left, Susan in the middle, and me on the right. Each of us was wearing jeans and boots, and we were all smiling, heads up, confident.

Two boys watched us approach. One of them smiled and said, "You girls look like an ad for jeans or boots or hair or something."

The other waited until we passed and said something that was both complimentary and rude at the same time.

"It's never hard to know what boys are thinking," Maisie said.

"Or what they're looking at," Susan added.

"Still, it's nice to know that we've got it," I offered.

"Oh, we've got it!" Susan said.

"Coming and going," Maisie added.

"Oh!" I was suddenly struck with a thought. "Are we walking back the same way?"

The three of us broke up in giggles.

After finding and buying everything on Mom's list, I wasn't paying attention while the cashier bagged the groceries.

And so, when we left the store, Maisie and Susan were each struggling with a heavy bag, while I followed, stuffing the receipt into my purse.

"Hold up," Maisie said, "Suze, set the bag down here." Here was a bench just outside the store. Then she turned to me. "Princess, will you go get a third bag? We can split this up into three small loads."

I dashed back inside while they waited, and when I arrived with a third sack, Maisie fished in her purse and frowned. "I'm out of cigarettes," she announced, and without further ado walked back into the store.

"Okay..." I began, as I opened the third bag.

Susan interrupted saying, "I want to go look with Maisie. I've always wanted to see all the different brands..."

"You do?" I asked, with some surprise.

"Oh, come on!" she protested. "You know I'm not dumb enough to smoke — no offense to Maisie —"

"Who can't hear you anyway–" I put in.

"I'm just curious about the colors and designs and the names. My mother would kill me if looked, so here's my chance. Just think of it as anthropological research."

"Whatever," I said. "I'll just divide up the loads."

Suze skipped off and I got to work.

It didn't take long to get the bags more or less the same weight. I had my head down, working, moving cans and containers around, packing the bags a little better.

As I finished, I had the distinct impression that someone was watching me. And not in a nice way.

I turned my head slightly and saw that it was a man, a big man. I didn't need to take a second look to know who he was: He was Sister Honororia's brother, the policeman. Instinctively, I wanted to flinch, but I made an effort not to react.

When he saw that I'd noticed him, he approached me.

I decided to try and be friendly. So I smiled and said, "Hello, officer. Plain clothes duty today?"

"Don't try to be funny," he replied, in a dry, humorless tone. "I'm off duty. I'm a cop, not a detective."

"Sorry," I said.

"I wear the uniform."

I nodded.

"Are you keeping your nose clean? Not getting into trouble?" he asked.

I didn't like his tone. He was talking to me as if I were a felon. It seemed like he was trying to provoke me.

And then it hit me: that was exactly what he was trying to do. He wanted to provoke me, so that I'd do or say something stupid, something blameworthy. Even if the law wouldn't let him punish me, he'd go and tell Sister Honoraria that I needed more detention.

Don't play his game, I told myself. Remember, bend without breaking.

"Yes, sir," I replied.

"What's that look mean?" he demanded. "What's with that face you're making?"

"What face?" I asked. "I didn't think I was making a face."

"Do you have something to hide?"

"No, sir." I said. He was so aggressive and hostile, I almost stuck my hands in my pockets, but caught myself and left my hands dangling at my sides.

"Why are you waiting here? Are those your groceries?"

"Yes, they are."

"Do you have the receipt?"

"Yes I do."

"You didn't answer my question: why are you waiting here?"

"I'm waiting for my friends to come out."

"Are they students at Blessed Yvette's?"

"Yes, they are."

He nodded, stepped over, and glanced into my grocery bags. He twisted his jaw and sniffed. "Just remember," he said as he left, "I've got my eyes on you."

"Yes, sir." I replied. Then I turned my eyes to my bags. I was careful to not watch him walk away.

Maisie and Susan came over as soon as the policeman was well away.

"Who was that?" Maisie asked as she peeled the cellophane off her cigarette pack.

"That's Sister Honororia's brother, the policeman."

"What did he want?"

"He just wanted to hassle me," I sighed.

"I hope you told him to mind his own damn business," Maisie said.

"No, I did not," I replied. "I don't want another week of detention."

"Oh, yeah," Maisie agreed, getting it. "Jeez! With cops like him, who needs criminals?"

© 2007 Kaleigh Way