Carrie Unser handed me a note, this time a personal one.
“Sit down Carrie.” I unfolded the note. “Who wrote this?”
Carrie said nothing.
“Carrie, why won’t you answer me?”
“I’m practicing silence.”
“A very good ambition. I may try as well. Are you serious? There’s a spy in Club Dead?”
Carrie Unser looked at the note.
“Who wrote this?”
Carrie stared hard in my eyes.
“Write something.” I handed Carrie a notebook and pen.
I compared the writing.
“You wrote this note.”
“And you know who it is.”
Carrie looked around.
“I don’t know who it is, and I don’t really care. But since you revealed this much, I figure you would like for me to know who attends our meetings as a spy.”
Carrie looked at my plastic bag of skinless petit carrots.
“You want to me to find out on my own.”
Carrie raised both her eyebrows.
“But Carrie, I don’t care.”
Carrie Unser’s eyes jumped from the top of her sunglasses. I think she frowned.
“Why should I?”
Carrie scratched her head.
“Because she is spying for someone. And that someone is whom I should care about.”
Carrie Unser got up and walked from the cafeteria. She did silence very well.