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Who cares? I try to kill ‘em off.”“Effective, but not scientific.”“Gordy, them’s parasites. Cattle’d be better without ‘em. Lucky they’s got a one-host lifecycle. I don’ like arachnids. Not spiders, not scorpions, not ticks, not roly-polies.”“I get it.”“I eat lots o’ decapods, an’ don’ mind insects.”“I find all the arthros interesting.”“Yeh.”I finished off the draft. Then I read a chapter of Wilson and another half-dozen pages of Orlando, only to be interrupted by the phone.“Entomology, Hollister.”“This is Laura Betti. How are you?”“I’m fine. I’ve a copy of Orlando Furioso on my desk and have read most of the first Canto.”“I’m amazed. In English, I assume.”“Yes. A sixteenth century translation reprinted by an American university press.”“Oh. That’s Harington. He’s far from accurate and he cut thousands of Ariosto’s lines. But he tells a fine story in English verse.”“Well, I’ve followed the action so far and enjoyed it.”“I’m even more amazed. I never imagined I’d meet an Australian who. After warm-up exercises, Will and I worked with the lower belts in the small training room. I did my best to keep my focus, but my mind kept going back to the situation with Marcia. I was supremely pissed at her mom, but there truly wasn’t anything I could do about it. My fear was, as I’d expressed to Sensei Jim, that she’d show up at my door and potentially make a bad situation worse.“You should probably call Jamie or Melanie,” Kara suggested as we left the dojo for the walk home.“Her mom is being mean!” Birgit declared.“Yes, she is, Pumpkin,” I agreed. “And yes, Kara, you’re right.”I pulled my mobile phone from my pocket and pressed the speed dial button for Melanie’s home number. Pete answered, and called her to the phone. I quickly explained the situation.“Whatever you do, do NOT let her into your house,” Melanie said. “You were never, ever alone with her, right?”“Never. I only saw her at the dojo or at the tournament and a couple of times at dinner with her mom. And there were.
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