Authors: Donna Tartt
The Little Friend (89 page)
Pemberton cracked open his soda and said: “You know, it’s embarrassing that you go around making up lies the way you do. You think it’s cool, but it just makes you look really dumb.”
Hely said nothing. He would call her, the first chance he got. If he could sneak away from the group, he might even go out to the pay phone and call her from school. And as soon as she got home, and they were by themselves, out in the toolshed, she would explain to him about the gun, and how she had masterminded the whole thing—shot Farish Ratliff, and trapped Danny in the tower—and it would be amazing. The mission was accomplished, the battle won; somehow—incredibly—she had done exactly what she said she would, and got away with the whole thing.
He looked up at Pemberton.
“Say what you want to, I don’t care,” he said. “But she’s a genius.”
Pem laughed. “Sure she is,” he said, as he headed out the door. “Compared to you.”
I am indebted to Ben Robinson and Allan Slaight for their insights on Houdini and his life, to Drs. Stacey Suecoff and Dwayne Breining for their invaluable (and extensive) medical research, to Chip Kidd for his amazing eye, and to Matthew Johnson for answering my questions about the poisonous reptiles and muscle cars of Mississippi. I’d also like to thank Binky, Gill, Sonny, Bogie, Sheila, Gary, Alexandra, Katie, Holly, Christina, Jenna, Amber, Peter A., Matthew G., Greta, Cheryl, Mark, Bill, Edna, Richard, Jane, Alfred, Marcia, Marshall and Elizabeth, the McGloins, Mother and Rebecca, Nannie, Wooster, Alice and Liam, Peter and Stephanie, George and May, Harry and Bruce, Baron and Pongo and Cecil and—above all—Neal: I couldn’t have done it without you.
