When it’s time for her to go, we all line up to say goodbye. Well, some of us. Treena and a couple of others leave the room. I hope they know Sarah’s not going to miss them either.
When it’s my turn, I hug her. It’s a one-armed hug and a little stiff, but I’m getting better at it. Touching people is … weird.
“You’re going to be fine,” Sarah tells me. “I left you everything you need.” She hugs me and turns to leave. Her mother smiles at me, at all of us. We all stand there, a sad little group watching out the window as Sarah, now outside, gets into the car, takes one last look at us, and drives away. She’s gone.
Just like Ivy. You’d think I’d be used to people leaving me, given how many girls came and went at the motel, but I’m not. See, Dr. Lisa? I’m not entirely without feeling. She’s going to tell me it’s because I have abandonment issues. No shit.
I go up to our room—my room, now. There, on my bed, is Mr. Whiskers, and underneath him is a recipe for hot chocolate. I don’t know whether to smile or cry, so I do a little of both. Just for a second. After I go to see if there’s any cake left. People come and go, there’s no point crying over it.
Not like it’s going to bring any of them back.
* * *
“Your mom called last night.”
Krys tells me this when she brings me lunch the next day. We’re sitting at a small table in a room separate from the normal dining room. I don’t feel the least bit bad having Indian food while everyone else has to have soup and sandwiches.
“What did she want?” I ask, dipping naan into the sauce on my plate.
My aunt watches me closely. “To ask if they could visit you.”
“They?” I repeat. I shake my head. “No.”
“Okay.” She doesn’t ask why. I know she wants to, but I’m glad she doesn’t. I don’t want to talk about it. “Have any new girls come in?”
I shake my head. “Not yet. Another few days, I guess.” It’s strange having the room to myself. It will be even stranger when someone else moves into Sarah’s bed.
“Have you heard from Sarah?”
“When I checked my email this morning, there was one from her.” It wasn’t really “my” email. It was an email sent to the patient inbox with my name in the subject line. I’m pretty sure the staff read it before I was allowed to see it and respond. That’s the extent of what we’re allowed to do when it comes to the outside world, other than phone calls. They don’t want pimps or johns or whatever finding us.
“How’s she doing?”
I shrug. “Good, I guess. She didn’t say much, just asked about the horses and if I was looking forward to going home with you.”
“Are you?”
I look at her. “Is that a trick question?”
Laughing, my aunt shakes her head. “Just want to make sure you’re happy.”
“I’m … happier,” I reply. It’s the best I can do.
Her smile fades. “What can I do to help you?”
“You’re already helping me.”
“It doesn’t feel like enough.”
I hate the frustration in her gaze. “Krys, a few months ago, I was in a motel, high and dirty and getting raped by strangers. You don’t think you’re an improvement over that?”
I can’t tell if it’s laughter or a sob, the sound that comes out of her. She knows what happened to me. She has to. “Jesus,” she whispers. “I am so sorry. Lex, you know none of that was your fault, right?”
“Yeah.” And the funny thing is, I mean it. The only thing I’d done wrong was to trust Mitch, and I’m not the first girl to have made that mistake. What he did to me wasn’t my fault, but there are times, even now, when I still miss it. God, I’m so fucked up.
“What’s in the bag?” I ask her, wanting to change the subject.
“They’re some books Zack gave me to pass on to you. He says they’re the ones you’ll need for your classes this summer.”
“Oh. Great.” Yeah, not really.
“Look, I know summer school sucks, but soon, you’ll be in your senior year and after that you can do whatever you want.”
It’s hard to imagine myself in college. It’s hard to imagine myself doing anything but being a ho. What the hell am I going to do with my life? Who would hire a broken-ass piece of shit like me? Some guy who likes to screw his secretary? I could be a sugar baby, I suppose. This time, I’ll decide who I do and do not have sex with, and I’ll keep all the money.
“Okay,” I say.
“Do you mean that, or are you trying to shut me up?” she asks.
“Is that possible?” I ask with a little smile.
She throws a chunk of naan at me. I pick it up and eat it, and that’s the end of talking about school.
After Krys leaves, I take the books from Zack up to my room and start looking at them. To Kill a Mockingbird, The Crucible, The Scarlet Letter, and A Raisin in the Sun.
I have an hour to kill before group, so I lie on my bed and start reading To Kill a Mockingbird. It’s pretty good for a school book. Zack made notes in the page margins. I saw his name written in the front of the books and the penmanship matches. His thoughts are like a one-sided conversation, like he’s the teacher.
“You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view … until you climb into his skin and walk around in it,” I read out loud. It’s something Atticus, Scout’s father, says to her in the book. In the margin of the book is scrawled: As if anyone in this godforsaken place would even try.
What does he know about it? I wonder. His mother’s a professor. He’s obviously smart, and I saw for myself that he’s not ugly. Fuck, I don’t want anyone to try walking around in my skin. I can barely handle it myself. And who says things like “godforsaken” anymore? I have to admit, though, I’m intrigued by his thoughts. Some of them mimic my own.
When I read, I like to watch the story unfold in my head, like a movie, and I’m the director, star, and whatever else I want to be. Or, I just watch as it all unfolds, sucked into a world that hopefully turns out better than this one.
Before I know it, we’re being called to dinner. I’m still pretty full from lunch, so I don’t eat much. I’m at the table with the others when I hear a car with no muffler rumble by.
“That’s the third time that car’s slowed down as it’s driven by here,” Lonnie comments, looking out the window. Her knuckles are white as she grips her fork.
“What color is it?” I ask. My voice is little more than a rough whisper. I know that car.
“Brown,” she says. “An old boat.”
“Rust spot over the passenger front wheel?”
They’re all looking at me. “Alexa?” Song asks, her voice tight with concern. “Who is it?”
I can imagine Mitch in the passenger seat, looking for me in the windows as they drive by. I could push back my chair, walk out the door, and be gone in a matter of minutes. He’d take me back. I’d see Ivy. I’d be his girl. With Daisy gone, maybe I’d be top girl.
But I don’t push back my chair, and I don’t go outside, because the car doesn’t belong to Mitch. It belongs to Frank. It’s not a coincidence that he’s driving by the day after my mother calls to see if they can visit me. I don’t think Krys told them where I am, but they managed to figure it out.
That it’s Frank’s car is what keeps me in my chair. It’s what makes me stay where I am while the bit of food I’ve eaten churns in my stomach and threatens to come back up. I look up at Song.
“Call the police.”
* * *
Krys is furious. Jamal is furious. Detective Willis is furious. Even gentle Song is furious. The only person not furious is me.
I’m afraid. Afraid Mitch will come for me, because I’ve realized I don’t want him to. I’ve thought about going back. I wouldn’t have to go to summer school. I wouldn’t have to worry about disappointing Krys, or fucking up, or Jamal not being the nice guy I want him to be.
I’d rather worry. I’d rather take
my chances at a new life than ever go back to that one. I can always run later if I want to. At least now I have some say in what happens.
We’re all in the living room. The other girls have been sent to their rooms, but I know they’re listening, or trying to. There are a couple of uniformed officers there as well, and cop cars driving up and down the street. They’re looking for Frank. Why don’t they just go to my mother’s apartment and wait?
Aunt Krys leaves the small group of people she’s talking to—Song, Jamal, and some woman I don’t recognize—and sits beside me on the sofa. “You okay?” she asks.
“I’m a little freaked out,” I reply honestly. I think it surprises her.
“There is some concern about the safety of the other girls here,” she begins.
I nod. “They’re sending me somewhere else.”
“If you want, you can come home with us.”
My shoulders straighten. “But that’s not supposed to happen for another couple of weeks.”
“Given the circumstances and your progress, they’re willing to give you an early release.”
It’s not because I’m awesome, I remind myself, but because my being here could be dangerous for the other girls. Upsetting. Not to mention Mitch might grab up one of them. Treena would probably go off with him in a heartbeat.
“What if he comes to your house?” I ask.
“Detective Willis is going to have someone watching our place. And I’m not going to make the mistake of telling your mother where you are. The next time she calls I’m not answering.”
“You’re pissed,” I say. There are red splotches on her cheeks.
She nods. “And I’m disappointed. She’s your goddamned mother, for fuck’s sake. She should be better than this shit.”
My eyes widen.
Her jaw is tight when she looks at me. “I’m not going to apologize for swearing. I meant every fucking word.”
I smile. I can’t help it. “O-fucking-kay.”
We laugh a little. She takes my hand and squeezes it. I squeeze back. Whatever happens next, Aunt Krys has my back. I know my judgment is shit, but I really want to trust her, so I’m going to. Because taking me on doesn’t benefit her in any way. In fact, I’m probably more of a pain in the ass than she ever wanted.
I go upstairs to my room. Lonnie is waiting on my bed. “What’s going on?” she asks in a whisper.
“I’m leaving,” I tell her. “I guess it’s not safe for me—or you guys—if I stay.”
She nods. “Keep going to meetings, okay?”
“I will.” I mean it.
She stands and limps toward me. Stiff arms jut around me and she pats me on the back with one hand and then keeps walking.
“Take care of yourself, Lex.”
“You too.” She doesn’t ask me where I’m going. Lonnie knows better. She’s been in the game a lot longer than I have.
I pack up my things. It only takes a few minutes. I come downstairs with my small suitcase, Mr. Whiskers, and the bag of books.
I don’t get a cake or a party. The other girls are still in their rooms and won’t know I’m gone until long after I’ve left. It’s better this way, because none of them will know what’s going on or where I’m going. They can’t tell what they don’t know. I should have told Lonnie I’m going to another facility. But I’m not important enough to Mitch that he’d sneak onto the property and ask one of the girls about me.
At least, I don’t think he would.
My chest buzzes, like a whole beehive is in there. Am I ready for this? Do I want this? What’s going to happen? Am I ever going to feel like a whole person again? What if I fuck up?
Krys gives me an encouraging smile. “Ready?”
No. “Sure.”
Detective Willis puts her hand on my shoulder. “I’ll check in with you in a day or so. It’s going to be okay.”
I nod. “Okay.”
Jill is there too—everyone had to meet to decide what to do with me, I guess. She tells me she’ll come by the house in a few days to check on me.
“Okay,” I say again. The buzzing subsides, giving way to … nothing.
I say goodbye to Song, and we leave the building. I glance toward the stables. I probably won’t ever see Joe again. My throat tightens. I’m going to miss that horse more than any person here.
As Jamal puts my stuff in the back of the vehicle, a city bus lumbers along the dark street. I could run out in front of it and end all of this shit right here and now. I could just die and be done.
It’s a weird thing, contemplating suicide but not caring enough to actually do it. I watch the bus go by. A kid about my age in the back seat gives me the finger. Loser.
When we get to the house, the first thing I hear is Isis yipping from her crate. As soon as Krys lets her out, she runs across the kitchen floor toward me and pees. I’m so happy to see her, I don’t care I have to clean up her mess. She squirms in my arms and howls at me as she tries to eat my face.
Krys and Jamal laugh at the two of us. “I’m glad you’ll be the one picking up her poop now,” Jamal tells me.
“I don’t even care,” I tell him. “Her poop is precious.”
He shakes his head. “She’s definitely your niece,” he says to Krys. “Y’all are too weird.”
I smile. I love this dog so much. What I can’t seem to feel for the rest of the world is all balled up and directed solely at her. Did Krys know that would happen when she decided to get us a puppy?
“So,” my aunt begins, leaning against the kitchen counter, “you’ll still have therapy with Dr. Lisa once a week, and at least one NA meeting a week as well. During the day, we’ll work on getting you caught up and ready for summer school. Zack will come here to tutor you, like you decided. You can help me out around the house and in my studio. Sound good?”
Isis licks my neck. “I’m sorry things got messed up,” I tell her.
Krys frowns. “Sweetie, this isn’t your fault. It’s mine. I’m the idiot who let your mother know you were in Middletown. They figured it out from there.”
“What if he comes here?” I can’t help but ask.
Jamal’s face hardens. “He’ll be sorry for it if he does.”
My uncle’s a big man—bigger than Mitch—with broad shoulders and muscular arms. He could seriously hurt someone if he wanted to. It makes me feel safe, even though it scares me a little.
After a while, they go to bed. It’s after ten, and I’m starting to get tired too. I take Isis into my room and put pee pads on the bathroom floor for her, along with food and water.
I read for a little while before turning out my light. My dog snuggles into the space between my neck and jaw and starts to snore. I stroke her soft, warm body and lie there, staring up at the ceiling, listening.
I fall asleep waiting for the rumble of Frank’s car. I know I’ll hear it sometime soon. It doesn’t matter if Mitch is with him or not. He found me once; he’ll come again.
chapter six
“I thought maybe I scared you off,” Elsa says to me when I walk into her house on Saturday night. Even though she lives down the street, Krys walked me to her door—just in case. It took longer than it should have because Isis had to stop and smell something every five steps. Or pee.
“Nah,” I say. “You didn’t scare me.”
“You like pizza?” she asks, shutting and locking the door.
“Doesn’t everybody?”
“You’d think, right?” She bends down to pick up Isis. “But there are actually people out there who don’t like the most perfect food on the planet.” She lets my dog lick her cheek.
“Aliens,” I say, because it’s the first thing that comes to mind. I don’t think Elsa thinks much about what comes out of her mouth either.
She grins at me. “Yeah, that’s it. Now, tell me you like Hawaiian and we’re set.”
“Actually, I do, yeah.” She mentioned pepperoni before, but I guess she changed her mind. I don’t care—pizza is pizza.
“Awesome. I’ll order it. Let’s take this little one to her fam.”
When we get to the living room, there are fewer puppies than last week. Isis yips excitedly as she rejoins her family. Cleo comes over and nudges my hand with her head, wanting attention.
“You wanna watch a movie?” Elsa asks as I rub Cleo’s ear.
“Sure.” If we watch something, then there’s not as much pressure to talk, right?
“What do you feel like?”
I shrug.
Elsa gives me a wry grin. “Help me out, girlfriend.”
“I don’t know. Something fun?”
“Oh! I know just the thing.”
“The thing” turns out to be an action movie with a female lead who kicks some serious ass. I love it. We sit on the couch, surrounded by dogs as we eat pizza and guzzle cola. After begging for and failing to get pizza, Isis falls asleep on the floor in front of me, Cleo beside her.
“That was so fucking good,” I say when the movie’s done.
Elsa slumps. “Oh, I’m so glad you swore,” she says. “I’ve been watching everything I say!”
“Girl, you don’t have to watch nothin’,” I reply with a little smile.
She leans back. “So, I’m guessing you’ve had some crazy shit happen to you or something?”
That’s unexpected. “What have you heard?” Did Krys tell her mother?
A shrug. “Nothing, but people don’t move in with their aunts unless something’s fucked up at home, right? Plus, those marks on your arm don’t look accidental.”
I frown. I don’t want to talk about it, but I don’t want to lie. She seems really nice, and she was open about trying to kill herself with me. “You know that trafficking ring they busted up near Bridgeport?”
Some of the color leaves her face. “Yeah.”
“Yeah.”
“Oh. Oh, shit.” She looks like I punched her in the head. I want to apologize, but I’m feeling a little light-headed. I can’t believe I told someone my secret. What if she tells other people?
“No one around here knows,” I tell her. “At least, I don’t think they do.”
She jerks her chin. “Right. You don’t have to worry about me telling anyone. Wow. I don’t know what to say.”
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