Anatomy of a Girl Gang (9781551525303)

by Little, Ashley

  How do you know?

  Because bad bitches don’t die.

  She smiles up at me. Then a cloud passes over her eyes and she’s gone.

  Laura is crying and, I realize, so am I. I look over at Z on the couch, her face as white as the moon, her sad, scared eyes holding mine.

  Did that just happen?

  Yeah, she whispers.

  I fold into the floor, holding my head in my hands. The smell of shit fills the room. I don’t know if it’s Laura, Mercy, Kayos, or all three.

  Z comes to me and puts her arms around me. She smoothes my hair and kisses the top of my head. Together, we listen to the sirens wail down the block, getting louder and louder until they are upon us.

  VANCOUVER

  It is said that I am the youngest metropolis in North America, one of the youngest cities on Earth, but sometimes … sometimes, I feel so old.

  SLY GIRL

  When Thug and I got home, there were those yellow police banners on the door. Inside, the house looked like the set of a horror movie. There was blood everywhere. Hello? I called out. I was afraid that someone had come and murdered all my friends and now they were waitin to kill me. I didn’t know what to do. I phoned Mac, Mercy, Kayos, and Z, but no one answered. I ran to my room and packed a bag of clothes and some food for Thug and left. I had about a thousand dollars in cash on me. I didn’t know where to go, cuz no hotels will take dogs, and I couldn’t just leave Thug there in the house with a serial killer probably hiding in the closet.

  I wandered around Gastown for a while, tryin to figure out what to do. Got a two-dollar slice and a can of Coke. I decided I could just walk around until daylight and figure out what to do in the mornin. Maybe I’d hear from one of the Roses and know what the hell was goin on by then. But it started rainin, and I was dog-tired, my legs felt so heavy, and my feet were so sore. Stayin up all night wasn’t as easy to do without meth or coke or K or somethin. Without really plannin it, I ended up at this old squat where I used to crash sometimes when I was homeless. I went in the side door and the usual suspects were there, sprawled around the floor, shootin up, snortin, and smokin drugs. In a way, it felt like comin home.

  Z

  needle$$ 2 $ay, we nevr got our million. Kayos & Mercy were pronounced dead wen da paramedix arrived & Laura wuz givn a $hot of adrenaline & ru$hed 2 da ho$pital. Mac & i were takn down 2 da $tation 4 que$tioning, both R heart$ $hattered in a million little peeces. dey $plit u$ up in2 diffrnt interrogation roomz. i tryd my be$t 2 protect her, but i knew $he wuz fucked Bcuz $he wuz 18. $he did a bettr job of protecting me & cleared me of NE & all involvement in da kidnapping or da $hootingz. i wuz allowed 2 go live w/ my parentz again on da condition dat i go bak 2 skewl & B indoorz by 11pm evry damn nyte.

  it wuz hell. my lyfe turned in2 a living hell.

  after $kewl i wud ju$t wandr up & down granville $treet, waiting 2 die. i’d $tay out till 11 $o my parentz & sisterz wud B in bed wen i came in & not ha$$le me. i coodn’t paint. i coodn’t draw. i coodn’t wryte. i coodn’t eat, $leep, nothing. nothing cood make me bettr. dey locked up my love. i had nothing left.

  MAC

  Well, here I am in hell, a.k.a. Surrey Remand. I’m awaiting trial. It keeps getting pushed back. I don’t even know what day it is now. I just go where I’m supposed to when they tell me to. I’ve been in here about three weeks. It’s loud. Chicks are always screaming and throwing tantrums and shit. I guess a lot of them are detoxing in here. I try to keep my head down, not talk to anyone. They all want to know my story, find out what I can do for them, get for them. I don’t tell them I’m the leader of the Black Roses. I don’t tell them about my L.C. connections. When they push it, I say I got arrested for shoplifting.

  My cellmate is Nikki. She’s a meth addict. She has stringy blonde hair and acne, and her body looks like it’s eating itself. She is eighteen and being tried as an adult, like me. She was arrested for robbing a convenience store. I try not to listen to her as she yammers on about her boyfriend, her ex, her parents, her pimp, her cravings, her kids, everything. But sometimes it’s easier to listen to her than get caught up in the thoughts in my own head. I don’t like to think about my trial, about what’s gonna happen to me. My lawyer says we have to stay positive, but that’s pretty fuckin hard to do when two of your best friends are dead and you’re stuck in a five-by-eight cell with a meth head. My lawyer is kind of a douche. Hank got him for me. He’s got yellowy bags around his eyes and he smells like vodka and car air freshener. We’re gonna plead self-defence, because that’s what it was. I don’t know what will happen.

  I miss Z. I know they let her off, and I’m glad. Why should both of us have to suffer? I’ve tried calling her about a thousand times, but her cell phone’s been disconnected and the line at her parents’ just rings and rings. God! I really miss her. If only they’d just let me talk to her. I wish I could have visitors in here, but I’m not allowed any until after my trial. Except for Larry, my lawyer. He brings me smokes, chocolate bars, a book, once. The Client. Larry’s alright, I guess. Hank says he’s the best.

  Sometimes, at night, after I hear Nikki snoring, I let myself go, and I cry. I cry and I cry and I cry. Wake up in the morning and my pillow’s all damp, and I just wish I could go back in time and erase everything that happened after Mercy said she had this brilliant idea. I could’ve just shut her down then, told her it was a stupid plan and would never work. But I didn’t. I went along with it. And I fucked up everything forever.

  For the first time in my life, I’m scared. I’m really fuckin scared. And the worst part is, there’s not a goddamn thing I can do about it.

  Z

  ye$terday i $kipped $kewl 2 go 2 Mac’s court d8. wen da judge read her $entence i felt my in$ydes bein ripped out.

  Guilty.

  my Mac wuz found guiltee of po$$e$$ion of a controlled $ubstance w/ intent 2 traffik, extortion, kidnapping, & 2nd-degree murder. $he wuz tryd az an adult & $entenced 2 lyfe w/out parole.

  she iz da love of my lyfe & da onlee per$on who evr gave a $hit about me & now $he iz being takn away frum me. 4evr. i didn’t realyze it until da ladee next 2 me put her hand on my $houlder, but i wuz wailing lyke a $tuck pig. da noyze came frum $umwhere deep in$yde my gutz. i coodn’t $top it. i looked in2 dat ladee’s ruined face & mo$$ green eyez & i knew who $he wuz. i knew dat once, $he had been beautiful, lyke her daughter wuz now. $he folded me in2 her & held me w/ her pipe-cleener armz & let me cry & $not all ovr her pink track-$uit. $he $hushed me & patted my bak, ju$t lyke a real mom wud. evn az i fell apart in her armz, i wanted 2 blame her $umhow. if $he had been a better mom & not a junkee crack whore, Mac nevr wud have gottn in2 di$ lyfe, $he nevr wud have ended up here, & we cood have been 2gethr 4evr & been $o $O happee.

  now $he’z in a cage fo 25 fuckin yearz, & wat do i have 2 live 4? not a goddamn thing.

  VANCOUVER

  The streets are slick with rain and the girl walks alone, seeing only the concrete beneath her feet. Her head used to be full of colours, but she doesn’t paint anymore. Instead, she makes etchings on her body with razor blades and waits to feel something, anything. Her heart sits raw and heavy inside her bird-like ribcage. Her eyes, dark as a storm cloud, were once sparkling with hope, excitement, passion. Now they are dull and downcast, and they hardly see the world around her. Like so many others in my city, she is ready to lay herself down in the street and give up.

  I have watched her grow from infancy, watched her throw back her head and laugh into the rain. I watched her fall in love—with art, with the world, with life. I know she could have done anything, she could have been anything, but not now. Not ever.

  She walks and walks until she finds her sister-friend, the laughing one with the sleepy eye. From her, she buys powder the colour of sand. It is enough. She also borrows tools: a needle, spoon, and tourniquet. She hugs her friend goodbye, knowing it is the last time she will see her.

  As she lies down in the tall grass, the clouds expand around her, the sky opa
que and shimmering, like a pearl.

  MAC

  After my trial, a cruiser took me out to Maple Ridge, and I was admitted to Alouette Women’s Correctional Facility. They took me into a cold little white room with a doctor’s bed-table thing. They made me strip. Then, this ugly-ass female guard with poodle hair snapped on a pair of gloves.

  This is gonna suck for me, isn’t it? I said.

  Lie down, please, she said, and proceeded to stick her hand up my cunt and feel around for awhile.

  Jesus.

  Turn over please.

  Oh, God.

  Turn over.

  I don’t want to.

  The other guard put her hands on my shoulders and flipped me over in one swift movement. Then the poodle lady spread my ass cheeks and felt around up there for awhile.

  Ow! Fuck!

  If you clench, it hurts more. Just try to relax.

  I ground my teeth together and tried to think of something else. Swimming. Birds. Convertible rides on sunny days. Ow!

  Okay, you can get dressed. She sounded disappointed that she didn’t find a gram of cocaine and a pack of razor blades up my ass. She handed me my prison uniform.

  Purple, my favourite.

  Poodle-lady raised an eyebrow. The two of them stood near the door, watching while I dressed. I wanted to crawl under a floor tile and stay there.

  They escorted me back out into the main hall where I was given two tiny bars of soap, a black plastic comb, a white toothbrush, a tube of Crest, a small plastic bottle of bleach, two latex gloves, and printed instructions on how to make a dental dam. I snickered, and the guard looked at me as if I had murdered her first-born.

  Let’s go. She took my arm and led me down the hall.

  I kept my eyes down so I didn’t have to look at anyone. They hooted and whistled at me from their cells as we walked down the dark corridor.

  Home sweet home, the guard said as she flicked a switch. There was a metallic buzz, and the door slid open.

  I stepped inside. Another buzz and the electric door closed behind me.

  Hands.

  I stuck my hands through the steel bars and she uncuffed me. She pocketed the cuffs and walked away.

  I looked at my cell. It was a concrete room with a single bed in one corner, a steel toilet and sink in the other. There was no seat on the toilet. There was no window. A grey army blanket, pale blue sheets, and a pillowcase lay folded on the end of the bed. As I stood staring at the stained, brown mattress, I felt lonelier than I ever had in my life.

  I sat down on the bed. My body felt like it was made of concrete. I closed my eyes and listened to the noises of maximum security. Someone was singing, someone was hollering for the guard, someone was talking, someone was laughing, someone was praying.

  I made the bed, fluffed up my paper-thin pillow, and lay down. I stared at the grey blanket with

  ALOUETTE stamped across it and thought about my dad. It was kind of funny, because this was the closest we had been in ten years, him being just down the road at Fraser Regional, but neither of us could visit the other because we were both locked up. Then I realized that he would get out before I did. Hell, maybe he would even come visit me.

  Yo, new kid on the block! someone yelled.

  Hey, new chick! What’s your name?

  There were whispers and shouts of excitement up and down the row.

  Hey, girlee! We’re talkin to you!

  I rolled over and put the pillow over my head. I imagined I was back at home, cuddling with Z. I imagined her arms around me, telling me everything was gonna be alright. That everything would be alright, forever and ever and ever.

  SLY GIRL

  I felt pretty guilty about not goin to visit Mac yet. But Maple Ridge is just so far away, and I’ve been real busy tryin to get set up down here again. I’m tryin to find a place to live and someone decent to work for and all that. But when I heard about Z, I knew I had to go see Mac, tell her in person. Besides, I was the only one left to tell her.

  Z had been strange the last time I seen her. I never knew she was into heroin, but I sold her what she asked for, a hundy bag, and told her how to cook it up.

  Just take a teensy, tiny little bit, okay? I said. If you do all of this at once, it’ll kill ya.

  Okay. Perfect. Thanks, Sly. Oh, here, take this. She shoved a bank card into my hand. Savings. 6969.

  What’s this for?

  Just in case. Then she gave me a hug and told me she loved me and ran off down the alley.

  If I had known, I never would’ve given it to her, I swear to God, I wouldn’t have. But how could I have known? She told me she was bored. Said she needed a new hobby. Next day, she’s found dead underneath her painting at the sugar factory, the needle still stickin out of her arm.

  Soon as I heard, I went to the Carnegie. They let me call Mac’s jail, helped me get the number and everythin, so I could find out the visiting hours. Today I left Thug with my friend Blue and hopped on the bus to Maple Ridge.

  Just now I’m tryin to figure out the words to tell her. Just how the hell are you sposed to tell someone that the person they love the most in the world is dead? This might be the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.

  MAC

  Soon as I saw Sly Girl walk in, I knew something was wrong. I felt it in the hollow of my stomach, like a rotten fruit. She scraped the chair back from the table and sat down as if she weighed a thousand pounds. Hi.

  What’s wrong?

  Um, Z …

  What?

  She’s gone.

  Gone where?

  She OD’d last night. I’m so sorry, Mac.

  The room fell away and I couldn’t see. I turned away from Sly Girl and coughed and gagged a little bit and thought I might puke. I tried to make myself breathe. I faced Sly Girl again, and she was cringing, tears leaked out of her destroyed eye. OD’d on what?

  H, she whispered.

  Z doesn’t do heroin. There must be a mistake. It was someone else who just looked like her. Hope fluttered inside my chest. My lady wouldn’t touch that shit. I knew it had to be a mistake.

  Sly Girl swallowed. It was her.

  Do you know who sold it to her?

  She nodded, gazed at her ragged fingernails.

  Who?

  Me.

  Fuck, Sly Girl! Why? My heart crumbled inside my chest. Was it rat poison? A hot shot? What?

  No! It was fine! It was good! She just did too much is all. I told her, Mac, I swear I did. I said just do a tiny little bit, a fingernail amount. I told her if she did the whole bag she would die.

  I stared at Sly Girl, waiting for her to burst out laughing, to tell me this was a sick joke, that I was on Candid Camera or some shit, but she could hardly look at me and sat fidgeting in her chair. She was back full time on the pipe, that was obvious. I wished she was lying to me, but I knew she wasn’t.

  I’m so sorry, Mac. I wish I could’ve stopped her. I just … I didn’t know, you know? I thought she just wanted to try it.

  I took a deep breath. It’s okay. It’s not your fault.

  She bit her bottom lip. Thank you, she whispered.

  I held my head in my hands while my heart crumbled inside my chest. I had done this. I had done all of this damage.

  I miss you, Mac. Everybody misses you.

  I nodded. Now I knew she was lying. I closed my eyes and saw the quick and brutal flashes of how my night would unfold. The torn blue bed sheet. The improvised noose. First came the waves of doubt and then the final resolve. I had lost my love. I had nothing left worth sticking around for. And after twenty-five years on the inside, there would be nothing left for me to go back to.

  I should get goin … I gotta work, Sly Girl said, snapping me out of my trance. I just wanted to let you know … I wanted you to hear it from me.

  Yeah. Thanks.

  I’ll come visit you again soon though, she said, picking at her face.

  Sure.

  I promise.

  I wanted to
hug her or squeeze her hand or something, but there was no physical contact allowed. I wanted to tell her something to remember me by, to remember the Black Roses and all we had done and all that we were, but all I could think of to say was goodbye. And be good.

  She bit her lip. You too. She looked for the guards out of the corner of her eye, then whispered, Black Roses forever.

  Forever.

  She stood up, and so did I. Be careful out there, Sly. The world is not your friend.

  She nodded. Then a guard came and led me away.

  SLY GIRL

  For a short time, I had a family. For a short time, I had a place to call home. And I knew what it was to be loved. Now I can look back at that time in my life and say I was happy then, yeaah, I really was.

  But now, my family has all gone to the Creator. And my home once again is the streets of the Downtown Eastside. But do you think these streets love you? These streets don’t give a fuck about you. You could walk these streets for a million days and a million nights, and they wouldn’t even know your name. These streets don’t love anybody.

  I got my dog still. I’m hangin in there. I do what the Black Roses taught me: walk softly, carry a big gun, hold my head up high.

  EPILOGUE

  SLY GIRL

  I forgot about it for a while—guess it got lost inside some pocket—but a couple weeks after Mac strung herself up, I found Z’s bank card and checked her savings account. There was $3,723.98 in there. I guess it was all the money she had saved from babysittin, birthdays, Christmas, whatevers. There it was. No one else was gonna do much with it, I figured, so I went to the teller and withdrew it all.

  I think Z would’ve wanted me to have it. She was always generous like that. Givin out smokes, cookies—whatevers she had, she would give you without thinkin twice about it. She didn’t care. She just wanted everyone around her to be happy. And you know, for the most part, we were.