"Susan Palwick - Going After Bobo" - читать интересную книгу автора (Palwick Susan)

"We are?" I said.

"Your brother's coming whether he wants to or not, and I asked Letty to come too.
Rich Mills has to work this morning. Unless you'd rather not have all those people,
honey."

"It's OK," I said. So that's what David was doing up. Mom was making him come
as punishment, so he could see what he'd done, and Letty was coming because she
had the maps, and maybe to help Mom keep me and David apart if we tried to kill
each other. And Mom wouldn't think it was important to have Dr Mills there,
because she didn't think Bobo was still alive. I put down my plate and gulped down
some coffee and said, "I'm going to go put the carrying case in the SUV."
"You're going to eat first," Mom said. "Sit down."

I sat. Driving up Peavine in the snow wasn't exactly Mom's idea of a day off; the
least I could do was not give her any lip. David bit into his toast and said around a
mouthful of bread, "I'm not going."

That was fine with me, but I wasn't going to say so in front of Mom. It was their
fight. "You're coming," she told him. "And if Bobo's still alive you're paying the vet
bills, and if he's not, you're buying your brother another cat. And if we get another
cat you'll damn well help us keep it in the house, or I'll call the sheriff's office myself
and tell them to take you off probation and put you in jail, David, I swear to God I
will!"

She would, too. Even David knew that much. He scowled up at her and said, "The
cat didn't want to stay in the house."

"That's not the issue," Mom said, and I stuffed my face full of eggs to keep from
screaming at David that he'd hated Bobo, that he'd wanted Bobo to die, and that I
hoped he'd die, too: alone, in the cold.

I remembered one of the first times David had let Bobo out. Bobo didn't have the
transmitter yet, and I was in the backyard calling his name. Suddenly I saw
something race over the fence and he ran up to me, mewing and mewing, his tail all
puffy. I picked him up and carried him inside and he stayed on my lap, with his face
stuck into my armpit like he was hiding, for half an hour, until finally he calmed down
and stopped shaking and jumped down to get some food. I'd hoped that whatever
had spooked him so badly would keep him from wanting to go out again, even if
David opened all the doors and windows, but I guess he forgot how scared he'd
been. "He didn't want to freeze to death, either," I said.

David pushed his chair back from the table and said, "Look, whatever happened to
your fucking cat, it's not my fault, and I'm not wasting my day off going up there."
He looked at Mom and said, "Do whatever you want: it doesn't matter. I might as
well be in prison already."

"Bullshit," Mom said. "If you go to prison, you'll lose a lot more than a Saturday.
Do you have any idea how lucky you are not to be there already? Especially after the