by Goda, Julia
Table of Contents
Wrong Side Girl
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Acknowledgements
Enjoy other works by Julia Goda
About the Author
Wrong Side Girl
by
Julia Goda
Copyright
Copyright © 2015 Julia Goda
All Rights reserved.
e-book ISBN: 978-0-9940944-4-5
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, scanning, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to characters, organizations, or events of real life described in this novel is either a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to all the girls and boys who have to fight every day,
who feel unworthy and unloved, who
want to give up, who want to run away, to escape,
to leave it all behind.
You are strong.
You can make it.
I know you can.
~
And, as always,
To Andre.
My very own Hero.
Chapter 1
Lizzy
Fifteen years ago.
Lizzy is nine. Cole is twelve.
I am hiding in my cave.
It’s not really a cave, more like a hole just big enough for me to sit in. It’s probably dangerous since it’s nothing but a hole I dug into the side of one of those ridges in the woods a few years ago when I needed to get away. It’s just big enough to hold my now almost ten-year-old body. I like that it’s close to the creek in the woods behind my house. I can hear the water running over the rocks.
It’s peaceful in my cave.
Nobody can find me.
The sand beneath my bare feet feels cool and I dig my toes in deeper. It relaxes me and lets me think of nothing but the sand on my skin. I've had lots of practice in how to not think about anything. To shut everything out and just sit here.
This is the only place where I can do that. It’s my favorite place in the whole wide world.
It’s my escape.
The place where I come to find peace and quiet.
I come here whenever things at home or school get too much. It’s like a cocoon that surrounds me and keeps everything else out.
I take my shoes and socks off and bury my hands and feet in the soft cool sand and let it run through my fingers and over my toes again and again.
Then I stare.
At the sand.
Or the creek.
Or the sky.
And I listen to the sounds of the woods, to the wind in the trees above me, the trickling of water in the creek to my right, the birds chirping, the leaves rustling.
To anything that will drown out their words in my head.
And I think of nothing.
Not of the screaming and shouting and name-calling.
Not of the smell of alcohol on my mother’s breath.
Not of the sound that man’s hand makes when it slaps my mother across the face.
Not of the struggle that follows.
And definitely not of the sounds that follow after.
My mind is completely blank.
And I am all alone.
Two weeks later.
It’s my birthday.
My special day.
I turned ten today.
I’ve been waiting for this day all month.
It’s July and it’s hot outside, so I picked my favorite skirt to wear this morning. It used to be a sleeveless dress that I wore when I was five or six. It has a stretchy top with little spaghetti straps. Now, the stretchy top sits on my hips and I tuck in the straps at the side. The fabric is worn and soft and I love the colors. Kinda like a soft rainbow from light pink through purple and blue to soft green. It’s the prettiest piece of clothing I own and I only wear it for special occasions.
And since today is special, I chose my favorite skirt to wear.
I was excited for my cake and present. I was sure that this year would be different; that this year surely I would get a cake and a present.
Turning ten is a big deal.
I was so very excited.
But when I bounced down the stairs and called out for my mom, I didn't get an answer. I checked the kitchen, but it was empty. And quiet. I went into the living room and there they were lying on the couch.
It looked like they were both sleeping.
The room was a mess: beer cans and cigarette butts everywhere. The smell was overwhelming and it made me scrunch my nose in disgust. My mom was only half-dressed. Her skirt had ridden up and sat around her hips and she was not wearing any panties. A man’s body was half on top of hers. He wasn't wearing a shirt and his pants were undone. His arm was slung around my mom and his hand was holding one of her boobs. Not a pleasant sight, but nothing I hadn’t seen before. I walked over to the couch and shook my mother’s arm.
Nothing.
I tried again and called out, “Mom, wake up!”
Still nothing.
They were totally out of it.
I looked around then went back into the kitchen. I didn't see a cake anywhere. I even checked the fridge and the freezer but found nothing but beer, a jug of milk, and pop tarts.
No cake.
No candles.
No present.
Not even a card.
She forgot.
I couldn’t help but start crying. Silent tears of disappointment were running down my face. I swiped them away, but they kept coming. I couldn't keep up.
I felt alone.
So terribly alone.
With nowhere else to go, I ran outside to escape to the woods, to sit in my cave and forget.
To spend my special day in my special place by myself.
That’s where I am right now. I am still crying and it annoys me that I can’t stop. I should have known that she would forget.
That today wasn’t a special day at all.
That I am not special.
I hear it often enough. Every day to be exact. If not from my mother, then from someone in town.
I should have known better.
Lost in my sorrow, I jump when a boy appears beside me at the opening to my cave and looks down at me. He has curly, blond hair and big, blue eyes that search my face. I have no idea who he is, have never seen him before. Not in town, not in school, not anywhere. He looks like he is a year or two older than me, but still, I should know him because our town is really small.
“Are you crying?” he asks me in a weird voice.
Embarrassed at being caught, I turn my head away and shrug my shoulders. I’m hoping he will just go away. This is my place. Nobo
dy ever comes here. I want to be alone. But instead of leaving, he sits down next to me, facing me.
“What’s your name?” he wants to know. I keep my face averted and shrug my shoulders again. “I’m Cole,” he says. I stay silent and watch as I let the sand run through my fingers over and over again. He still doesn't leave. Instead, he tells me about himself. He just moved to town a few days ago. Into one of those big, old houses I love so much on Old Hollow Street at the other end of the woods. He is twelve and going into grade six after the summer. He was exploring the woods behind his house when he saw me sitting here. He wishes he had a dog. He would name him Cash and he would be an Australian Shepherd. I’m not sure what that is, but I do love dogs. I keep listening to him, quietly watching the sand running through my fingers as he tells me about all the adventures he and Cash would have. It sounds like they would be best friends and have a lot of fun together.
I wish I had a dog to be my friend. That had been my birthday wish.
Thinking about that makes me cry again. I try to wipe my tears away without him noticing, but of course he notices and asks me in a sad voice, “Hey, did I say something wrong?” I shake my head and stay quiet. He stays quiet with me for a while until I stop crying, and it actually feels nice to have him sit with me.
When my tears dry, he repeats his earlier question, “What’s your name?”
This time I answer him. “Lizzy,” I whisper.
He smiles at me and holds out his hand to me. “Hi, Lizzy, I’m Cole. Pleasure to meet you.” That makes me giggle and I take his hand. He shakes it then lets it go and gets up. I realize he is going to leave and that makes me sad. Before he leaves, though, he looks down at me, still smiling, and asks, “Wanna meet here again same time tomorrow?” I think about it for a minute while I look up into his blue eyes and then nod. His smile grows wider. “See you then, Lizzy,” he says, then turns around and leaves me with a smile on my face.
From that day on we were inseparable.
Chapter 2
Lizzy
I was running late.
Chloe and Jesse had appeared in the common room at the shelter just as I was about to leave and I had sat down to talk to them for a little bit. Chloe was one of my favorites. I know, technically I wasn’t supposed to have favorites, but I couldn’t help it. She reminded me of myself when I was her age. I was worried about both of them. They stuck together like glue and didn’t let anyone else get close. Chloe was reserved and always talked real quiet, trying not to draw attention to herself. Jesse was her protector. I was guessing they were around the same age, maybe a year apart. Where Chloe was quiet and shy, Jesse was serious and didn’t mind sharing his opinion. He was always looking out for her, always making sure nobody messed with her, and made it clear that if they did, they would have to deal with him. A lot of the other kids that came in on a regular basis either respected him or were intimidated by him, so they didn’t go there. But there were a few boys that concerned me, who would go through Jesse to get to Chloe. They would see it as a challenge. I had been worried that one of them had been successful and that had been why they had disappeared for a few days. I was so relieved when I saw them in one piece today. When I had again offered them a room at the shelter for the night, they had turned me down, just like they had the other twenty times I had offered. Our rules stated that boys and girls weren’t allowed to sleep in the same room. So they never stayed. I needed to come up with a solution. I was very tempted to ask them to come and stay at my place, but that was against the rules. First thing tomorrow, I was going to talk to my supervisor to see what we could do to help them.
I hadn’t gotten through to them yet, so I didn’t know exactly why they were so scared and closed off, but I had an idea. It always followed the same pattern. The same pattern that I most definitely would have succumbed to if Cole hadn’t saved me from it: living on the streets, having no one to trust and no place to go. I would be forever grateful to Cole for keeping me strong enough to fight that constant urge of running away. To this day, he was the most important person to me. Even if he couldn’t fill the place in my life I had hoped he eventually would, he would always be a priority in my life. No matter what, I would always be there for him. I had promised him that when we were kids and I would keep that promise if it killed me. There was no way I could disappoint the only person that had ever loved me and cared for me.
And protected me.
Sometimes that protection had made things worse for me, especially when he wasn’t around and the other kids in town would taunt and bully me without fear of retaliation from Cole, but I had never told him that. I was stubborn, always had been. I had heard and seen a lot of things before Cole came into my life, and those things had made me seem tough to the outside world.
And I liked it like that.
I never let my emotions show to anybody but Cole.
Our jobs kept both of us busy these days, but we made a point of getting together as often as we could. And we talked on the phone daily. It was important to both of us to stay connected, to be a part of each other’s lives. When he didn’t have a flavor of the week—or day— we went out clubbing or bar hopping together, and it was always a blast. When he did have a girl, he would often ask me to come out with them, but I always found excuses why I couldn’t make it.
That was something I didn’t need to see.
Another girl hanging all over him, his hands touching her in places that I wanted him to touch me.
I had accepted the fact that that would never happen, but that didn’t mean I wanted it shoved in my face that he wasn’t interested in me that way. Currently, he was single and I was supposed to meet him fifteen minutes ago at a bar down the street from my apartment. It had been a few weeks since we’d had a chance to actually meet up for more than a quick coffee because I had been so busy at work. At my last evaluation meeting with my supervisor, Taryn, I had presented her with the idea of setting up regular tutoring sessions and career info meetings for our street kids. She had loved the idea and told me to go ahead with it. That meant I had to set up interviews with tutors and career counselors, get flyers printed, go out on the streets and talk to the kids about it, head staff meetings to fill everyone in on what was going on, and get a team together to support me. I had been so busy that I’d had to cancel on Cole a few times.
On that thought, my phone started ringing. I checked the display and saw that, yes, it was Cole. Speaking—or thinking—of the devil.
“Hey,” I answered after the third ring.
“Where are you?” He sounded really angry. Rude much?
Taking a deep breath I told him, “I’m on my way to the car. Something came up at work and I had to stay a little longer. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“Held up at work again, huh? You think you could have called?” Very angry now. His attitude was starting to piss me off. What the hell was his problem?
“Are you serious right now? You know I don’t work a nine to five job, Cole! I’m sorry I’ve been so busy lately and you’re upset, but I’m not sorry I stayed to try and get through to the kids that worry me. My job is important to me. You know that!”
“Yeah, believe me. I know that.” It sounded like he had a hard time keeping his annoyance under control. That incensed me even further. What? He was mad at me for being passionate about my profession? He could not be serious.
“What the fuck is your problem, Cole?” I practically shouted at him. I was ready to just head home. It had been a long week and I didn’t need this shit.
I heard him sigh at the other end of the line. Then he said in a calm voice, “Nothing, baby. I just miss you, is all.”
Just like that my anger evaporated and my heart melted. I loved it when he called me ‘baby’. I’m the only person I’ve ever heard him call that. For his babes he usually reserved ‘gorgeous’ or ‘sweetheart’. But I was his only ‘baby’. Call me stupid and naïve, but I liked it. I liked the fact even more that he was possessive of that end
earment.
We’d gone out with our significant others together once, which had been huge for me because I never brought the guys I dated to meet Cole. I don’t know. It just felt wrong. When Peter had called me ‘baby’, Cole had totally lost it on him. He was furious and threatened to beat the shit out of him if he ever heard him call me that again. His date— for the life of me I cannot remember her name now—had given me weird looks and had turned into an even bigger bitch after that. For the rest of the night, Peter had been kind of distant with me. He had ended it the next day, mumbling something about encroaching on somebody else’s territory. I had tried to explain to him that it wasn’t like that, but he hadn’t listened to me.
That had been the first and last time I had introduced any of my boyfriends to Cole.
It kinda pissed me off that Cole got away with almost anything as long as he called me ‘baby’, but I couldn’t help it. It showed me that I did have a special place in his heart and that on some level he considered me his. Call me crazy, but I needed him to own that part of me.
I closed my eyes and said quietly, “I miss you too, Cole. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” We both knew that everything was forgiven when he said, “All right, I’ll see you in ten. Drive safe,” and hung up. I closed my phone and threw it on the passenger seat, then started my car and went to meet Cole.
Cole
I was going to beat the shit out of that guy if he didn’t stop ogling her ass. “Yo!” I called and stared him down when he lifted his eyes to mine. He got the message loud and clear and trained his eyes on the tits sitting on the stool next to him at the bar. I took a deep breath in the hopes of keeping my shit together. It wasn’t easy. I felt like every guy in the bar was staring at either Lizzy’s tits or her ass and it was driving me fucking insane with jealousy and possessiveness. I knew I had no right to those feelings since she wasn’t mine in that way, but that didn’t change a goddamn thing. The problem was that I wanted her to be mine in every way possible, but I knew I had no right to make that so.