Prey Read Free Page A

brain!”
    It was 4:30. School was out but it wasn’t dinnertime yet, so Rhett’s Pets was at its busiest and at its busiest, it was packed. So of course everyone turned to stare. First at the shouting girl, then at horrified Chelsea, who wished she had told the little brat about the eye-slicing thing. Now wanting to die, she looked down, scooped more pellets into her hand and hoped the world would just go away.
    197, 198, 199, 200. Finished.
    She put the bowl into the aquarium tank. The warm scent of mammal and wood shavings hit her face as she lay the meal down inside. Rather than eat at once, the rabbits continued to stare at her as she slapped the pellet dust from her hands and stood up.
    Even the fluffy think I’m insane.
    Doing her best to pretend nothing had happened, Chelsea approached the girl and her mother. The woman’s ring-covered fingers gestured from the hoop of a shopping bag toward one of six rolling pups. “The golden lab, please?”
    Zach. One of the favorites, always chasing his tail, or rolling on his back. Chelsea named him after a hyper kid she used to know from group with ADD. How long ago? She was sixteen now, and she had known Zach in sixth grade, so, five years?
    There she was, counting again.
    The OCD had been bad since last night, ever since her boyfriend, Derek, asked her if she wanted to go to Hobson Night, the town-wide college party. Part of her wanted to go, but old lizard-brain insisted it would mean rape and death, not necessarily in that order.
    A wire mesh covered the top of the puppy box. If she didn’t count all the squares in the wire, all the puppies would stop breathing.
    No. No, I won’t do it. I won’t count anymore.
    She lifted the puppy into her arms, trying hard not to look at the rows of wire squares. “Hey, fellah! How you doing? How’s my Zach?”
    â€œZach’s a stupid name. I’m going to call him Zilbowser,” the girl said.
    The wire formed a grid. If she counted just one row up and down, she could multiply to get the total. Maybe that would be good enough.
    8, 9, 10, 11…
    No!
    She turned her back to the squares. Sweat broke out on her forehead as she carried Zach to one of the little rooms where the girl and her mother could sit and play with him. As she walked, the feeling rose.
    You’re killing that puppy! You’re killing it!
    An image flashed in her head—her throttling the puppy, grabbing it by its feet and smashing the little girl in the face with it.
    Shut up!
    Chelsea wiped her forehead, put the puppy down with the women, and went back and counted the wire squares.
    Eight by sixteen is one hundred and twenty-eight.
    Another failure to report to Dr. Gambinetti. Maybe it was because it was midterm week. Maybe because it was winter and the days were getting so short. Low serotonin levels supposedly influenced the disease. Maybe it was just Hobson Night. That always got to her too.
    Thankfully, Pete emerged from the storeroom with a sheepish grin on his pimply face, ready to take over for her. Now all she had to do was count the crickets for the reptile cages and in half an hour she’d be off for the afternoon. At least she was supposed to count the crickets. She could handle that. It was natural.
    â€œChelsea?” The familiar voice was slightly surprised. At first she didn’t recognize the slight, dark-skinned woman it came from. The poised, smiling face seemed as horribly out of place in a pet store as a concert pianist at a circus. The face more rightly belonged in school, in front of a chalkboard full of tightly written biology notes.
    â€œMs. Mandisa,” Chelsea said back. Good thing she’d caught up on all her homework during lunch that day, so she could talk cell metabolism if need be.
    â€œI’d no idea you worked in a pet store,” she said. “How exciting.” Her large brown doe-like eyes sparkled. With her confidence, the slight accent Chelsea