So Over My Head Read Free Page A

the grounds. Finally I gather my purse and head out back to Betty’s trailer. A breeze flutters over my skin, and I pick up the pace. Though I would never admit it to Luke, it is a little creepy out here now. Few cars remain in the parking lot, and I wonder at the sense of coming back here alone.
    I pass two smaller trailers before coming to Betty’s bigger one. The door hangs open, and light spills out.
    I knock on the swinging door. “Betty? Hello?”
    No answer. I stand on the step and knock louder. “Betty? It’s Bella!”
    Nothing.
    Then my ears twitch at the tiniest of sounds. A distant whim-per. An animal. From the back of the trailer.
    “Betty?” I step inside just as her collie leaps out. “Peg! Hey, here girl!” I turn back to the trailer.
    And feel my stomach drop to the floor.
    My scream pierces the air.
    Betty the Bearded Lady sits at her table, nose down in her pie.
    And one shiny sword in her back.

chapter three

    J ust take deep breaths, Bella. Deep breaths.”
    I don’t know how sticking your head between your knees and staring at your own crotch is supposed to help anything, but here I am. Trying not to pass out. Trying not to bawl uncontrollably.
    Mark Rogers, friend and member of the Truman PD, pats my back as we sit on the arena bleachers. The rest of the police force combs through Betty the Bearded Lady’s trailer. I’ve already answered a hundred questions, and I have a feeling they are just the tip of the iceberg. Why me, God? How will I ever get that image out of my mind? All that blood .
    My breath hitches and Mark does more patting. “Think nice thoughts.” Tonight his voice is as high pitched as a flute. “Go to your happy place.”
    “I thought I was at one. Then I saw a dead woman.” I want this to be one of those overly realistic dreams you wake up from. The kind that makes you happy to be awake, realizing it was all just a vivid dream, and you are safely tucked in bed.
    I hear the crunching of a wrapper and raise my eyes. Mark sticks half a Snickers in his mouth.
    “What?” His eyes go wide. “I’m a stress eater. Want some?”
    My stomach does acrobatics at the thought of food. “You have no idea what you’re doing here, do you?”
    “Not every day I see a bearded lady murdered.” He eats the last bite. “Seriously, that is some freaky stuff in there. The only dead body I’ve ever seen was my Great Uncle Morty. And he was ninety-six, so it wasn’t a real shocker that he went, you know? He keeled over at the nursing home square dance. He just did one too many do-si-dos. But still”—he shivers—“he was awfully pale and wrinkly. Kinda cakey looking.”
    “Thanks for sharing.” I cover my face with my hands and rock back and forth. Mark’s hand plops on my head. “Stop patting me!”
    “Well, pardon me.” He sniffs. “It works on my schnauzer.”
    “Bella?”
    At that familiar voice, I stand up. “Luke.” He walks past two cops, and I run straight into his arms.
    “Shhh.” He holds me close, and I breathe in the scent of him. His shampoo, his cologne, the smell of his clothes. Him. “Officer Mark called me.”
    “Please don’t leave me.” Let’s forget we broke up. Just for now .
    “I’m not going anywhere.” He caresses the back of my head, and I hang on like he’s my lifeboat off the Titanic. “Your mom and Jake are on their way. It’s just going to take them a little bit from Oklahoma City.”
    My stepdad Jake’s on the road a lot with the wrestling circuit, and Mom goes with him whenever he’s close. Why couldn’t he have been in Philly or Phoenix tonight? Seeing a dead woman definitely qualifies as one of those moments a girl needs her mother.
    “She died . . . in her pie.” My breath catches. “Why would some-one kill her and let her die in her meringue?”
    “I don’t know.” Luke’s voice is calm, reassuring.
    “It was good pie too.”
    “I’m sure it was, Bel.”
    I sniff on his shoulder. “If I die over pie, I want it