THE POWER OF THIRTEEN
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THE POWER
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OF THIRTEEN
t ÇÉäxÄ uç Jenn McKay
Women’s Press • Toronto
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The Power of Thirteen
Jenn McKay
First published in 2003 by
Women’s Press, an imprint of Canadian Scholars’ Press Inc. 
180 Bloor Street West, Suite 801
Toronto, Ontario
m5s 2v6
www .womenspress.ca
Copyright © 2003 Jenn McKay and Canadian Scholars’ Press. All rights
reserved. No part of this publication may be photocopied, reproduced, stored
in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic,
mechanical or otherwise, without the written permission of Canadian Schol-
ars’ Press, except for brief passages quoted for review purposes. In the case of
photocopying, a licence from Access Copyright may be obtained: The Canadi-
an Copyright Licensing Agency, One Yonge Street, Suite 1900, Toronto,
Ontario, m5e 1e5, (416) 868-1620, fax (416) 868-1621, toll-free 1-800-893-5777,
www .accesscopyright.ca.
Canadian Scholar’s Press/Women’s Press gratefully acknowledges financial sup-
port for our publishing activities from the Ontario Arts Council, the Canada
Council for the Arts, the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing
Industry Development Program (BPIDP), and the Government of Ontario
through the Ontario Book Publishers Tax Credit Program and through the
Ontario Book Initiative.
National Library of Canada Cataloguing in Publication Data
McKay , Jenn, 1978-
The power of thirteen / Jenn Mckay .
isbn 0-88961-417-2
I. Title.
ps8575.k28735p69 2003 c813'.6 c2003-903868-8
Cover and text design by George Kirkpatrick
Cover photo by Jolie Dobson
Author photo by Vanessa P .
03     04     05     06     07     08           6     5    4     3     2     1
Printed and bound in Canada by AGMV Marquis Imprimeur, Inc.
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For Tim, who gave me the gift of courage 
by being courageous himself.
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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Althea Prince, Dad and Mom (Gord and Dale), Eliza
Marciniak, Grandma and Grandpa (Marg and Ken), Judi
and Al, Paul Quarrington, Rebecca Conolly, Renée
Knapp, Sean Kane, the whole family , and Tim: thank you.
I am also grateful to the Mariposa Writer’s Group and the
Ontario Arts Council grant process.
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PROLOGUE
The fresh smell of lake water that permeated the air came over
me in a wave of nostalgia when I opened the door of my car
after the long drive. A nervous check in the mirror revealed
what I had hoped would disappear on the trip. My reflection
stared back at me accusingly; steel-grey eyes, long nose, and
fat lips worked together to show the truth. The black eye
proved I hadn’t kept my promise. Clutching a bouquet of
flowers, I replaced the oversized sunglasses on my face and
walked across the street.
The overcast sky loomed above as I moved through the rows,
trying to remember my way . My high heels sunk into the soggy
grass with each step. A vicious wind whipped through the
wisps of hair that had come unclasped. Long-forgotten mem-
ories slipped into my mind, urging me back to Vancouver,
where I had learned to forget. My pace slowed as I came upon
the tiny marker.
A crude cross fashioned out of stone was all that was left of
a life that once meant everything to me. I laid the flowers at the
head of my friend’s grave.
1983–2002
The sight of the grave marker made it all too clear what
I had hoped to find by coming home. The last time I set foot in
a graveyard was for this funeral. The horror of losing someone
so close at such a young age briefly patched the rift between
my father and me. Both my parents attended the ceremony,
and the feel of my dad’s arm around my shoulders helped me
through that day more than he could know .
Now, as I stood in front of the resting place without his
comforting touch, guilt consumed me.
“My friend, my lover,” I whispered. “I started my journey
because of you and now here I am right back where I began.
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I’m sorry I’ve been gone so long, and to come back just when I
need help.... I’m sorry for my part in your death.”
I knelt down beside the grave. Feelings that I’d kept locked
up for seven years flooded out of my mouth. 
“It was my fault you died. If I could trade places with you, I
would. I really messed up this time; almost ended up lying here
beside you. After everything you taught me, I did exactly what
I promised never to do again. I trusted myself to see the signs. I
am so sorry .”
I cried.
“I saw it in your eyes the night you died; I heard it in your
voice. I know I was never as good to you as you were to me. I
wasn’t a good person back then.”
I pressed my face against the cool stone.
“I just came back to tell you that I love you. I love you.”
I slowly got up and walked through the deserted graveyard
drying my eyes with the back of my hand. Before starting the
car, I reached into my purse and slid a tiny bracelet through
my fingers.
My father gave me this charm bracelet on my twelfth birth-
day . As I stared at the only charm on it, a pendant that said
“Daddy’s Little Girl,” I remembered the way he surprised me
with it. He was so excited to give me my birthday present that
he woke me up at six in the morning and watched me open it.
When I saw what it was, he grabbed me and swung me around.
He hugged me and whispered in my ear, “You will always be
my little girl.” I remembered this one drunken, lonely night
about three years ago when I finally found the courage to
phone him.
“Hello?”
“Daddy?”
“Who is this?”
“It’s your only daughter.”
“Y our mother isn’t here right now .”
“That’s okay , I wanted to talk to you anyway .”
“Are you drunk?”
“No. Are you?”
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“No.”
The line was silent as I lit a cigarette.
“Are you smoking?”
“No.”
Silence.
“It’s good to hear your voice again, Daddy .”
No response.
“Um, I wanted to ask you a question.”
Deep breath.
“Are you still there?”
“Y es.”
“Why did you abandon me?”
“That’s a ridiculous question. We both know I didn’t do
anything of the sort; you left on your own accord.”
“You dropped me like a bag of bricks as soon as I turned
thirteen.”
“What are you talking about? Y ou must be drunk or stoned
or something. I see not much has changed.”
“But why did you stop loving me?”
“Stop your crying. I’ve had enough of this and you’re mak-
ing no sense.”
There was a clunk, then nothing.
I put the bracelet back in my purse and started the car. As I
drove through my hometown of Brockville, Ontario, every
street, every store, and every building had a memory to share.
It occurred to me that when people have to constantly drive by
their memories, they must develop a suit of amour to protect
themselves. But as I drove by the buildings of my past, I found
it impossible to shut them out, and I was thrown into every
memory at once, a whirlwind of emotions from days gone by ,
sweeping me up into the person I used to be and showing me
that I hadn’t changed much at all.
Driving around town was just an excuse—a way to delay
doing what I knew had to be done. But no matter how long I
drove I couldn’t summon enough courage.
I parked across from the high school and stared through the
windshield. The rundown brick exterior and yellow doors
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filled me with sorrow. A mixture of classes and friends raced
through my mind. I remembered Jake’s lecture, Duncan’s
flowers, and food fights in the cafeteria. Even though I had
spent most of my time avoiding this place, it seemed as though
every memory sprung from it. All the mistakes I made here
couldn’t be forgotten anymore.
I drove past the tiny park where I had spent most of
my grade nine English classes, the street that led to my aunt’s
house, the store that didn’t card for smokes, the house I had
once partied in and ended up in a driveway. Seven years ago
there would often be a blue pick-up parked here.
I left my car running and walked toward the front steps. My
hand followed the rail, peeling and broken. I opened the front
door, which led to two others. A sign indicated that the old
apartment upstairs was for rent. I climbed the stairs in a
trance, unable to breathe. The door was open. I squeezed my
eyes shut, unable to deal with the pain, and entered the living
room. When I opened them, it came with such a force that it
knocked the wind out of me, sending me to the floor, leaning
crouched against a wall with my knees against my chest.
Glimpses of my time spent in this place played behind my eye-
lids like an old projector armed with a full reel of family vaca-
tions. Single words and different voices calling my name
echoed in my ears.
“Sarah.”
I walked past the kitchen, past the bathroom, and into the
bedroom. It looked larger with no furniture. A blink trans-
ported me back to a world where I was sixteen.
Stacey and I are facing each other on the bed. She is putting
blush on my cheeks.
“Y ou want to look good for him tonight,” she says.
“Do a good job, then.”
“I always do.” Stacey giggles. “I’m sorry I freaked out on
you earlier. I wasn’t mad at you, it was Wes who pissed me
off.”
“It’s okay .”
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“You’re always so forgiving. I bet you wouldn’t stay mad at
me no matter what I did.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“Would you be mad at me if I left Wes?”
“No.”
“I’ve been thinking a lot lately about who I am. I need to
find out.”
“Y ou will.”
“I’m not so sure anymore.”
I ran to the bathroom, but the bare space offered no solace.
I caught my reflection in that damned mirror above the sink. I
was fifteen again, the same black eye staring back at me.
“How could this happen again?”
I sat on the toilet with my head in my hands and sobbed.
I cried for everything I had lost when I left my hometown
behind and for all that I still had to do. The memories brought
me back to the roller coaster of emotions I’d abandoned years
ago. If I were going to answer my question, I’d have to go back
to the beginning.
I had been concerned about my appearance since I had dis-
covered boys in grade four. At school they taunted me. Fatty,
fatty, four eyes. Then I watched as they made nice with the
popular girls. The girls were even worse, passing nasty notes
and leaving me out of their games at recess and parties on
weekends. Every day I looked into the mirror, hoping to catch
a glimpse of something beautiful. Then one day during the
summer before high school began, I saw it in the eyes of a
stranger.
My mother had asked me to go to the store for milk. Reluc-
tantly , I pulled on my shoes and walked out the door. He was
standing on the corner with a group of friends. They were
older, smoking cigarettes and using dirty words. He watched
me as I walked toward them and waited for the hurtful calls.
As I walked past, he reached out and brushed his hand against
my arm.
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“Hey there, pretty lady .”
I turned back and saw that it wasn’t meant as a joke. His
expression was one I had never seen before, caught between
longing and encouragement. His friends slapped his shoulder
and said, “Leave her alone, she’s so young.”
That night before bed I stared in the mirror for an hour. At
first I saw what I always did: a long forehead, grey eyes
magnified by Coke-bottle glasses, a long, bumpy nose, full
cheeks and chin. Then I took off my glasses and pulled back
my double chin. Turning this way then that, I decided that was
what he saw in me, some kind of potential.
“What are you doing, Sarah?” my mom asked as she walked
in my room to say good night.
“Mom, do you think I am beautiful?”
She sat on my bed and patted the duvet beside her. “Of
course I do, sweetheart.”
“No one else thinks so. Y ou do only because you have to.”
“That’s not true at all. What do you think?”
“I don’t see beauty in this face.”
She held me close to her breast and stroked my hair. “Those
things will go away because this is not your true self.”
“How can you make them go away?”
“We could get some contacts for you.”
“Maybe a new haircut and some clothes too?”
“I think we can do something like that. Why don’t we keep
it a secret and surprise your father? It will be nice to show him
the finished product. We can do all this before you go to high
school.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“ All right, sweetie, let’s get to bed.”
“Good night.”
“Good night, my beautiful baby .”
For that whole summer I watched what I ate, exercised, and
dreamed of the day my glasses would disappear. Mom took a
day off work to take me to the eye doctor, out shopping for a
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whole new wardrobe, and to get my hair styled. At home I put
on makeup and my favourite new outfit: low , hip-hugging jeans
and a belly-showing top. This time when I looked in the mir-
ror, I did see something beautiful. My round face and glasses
had disappeared, leaving behind sophistication and style. I
cupped my hand under my right breast, pleased that it reached
heavily into my palm. My straight, white smile couldn’t be
hidden as I pinched the skin on my stomach, unable to make
a donut of fat. It was this way I greeted my dad after work,
all dolled up and ready to go out for my thirteenth birthday
celebration. 
I was sipping on water with lemon when the door creaked,
announcing my dad’s arrival. I leapt from the chair and ran
down the hall, picturing him lifting me off my feet and
twirling me around. He was freshly shaven and still smelling of
cologne after a hard day at work. His eyes, which usually lit up
when I came into the room, narrowed as I ran toward him. He
caught me by the shoulders and held me at arm’s length,
studying me with a frown.
“What’s this? Are you wearing makeup?”
“Yeah, Daddy , it’s all part of my new look.” I spun around.
“Don’t you like it?”
He continued to frown, looking toward my mom for an
explanation. “Sure. I just never realized how tall you’d gotten
until now .”
When he went upstairs to change out of his work clothes,
my mom crossed her arms over her chest.
“Just tone down the sex a little, that’s all.”
That night my dad was sullen as we celebrated my birthday .
The reaction I received the first day of high school boosted
my confidence. The boys drooled and flirted; the girls stared
and frowned. My confidence grew with the attention, dates,
and compliments. By the time I fell in love in grade eleven, I
was a completely different person. 
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ONE
Duncan. My first love, my first broken heart, but not my first
broken bone. He hangs in my memory like cancerous blue in a
smoke-filled room. Even though he lived in his mother’s base-
ment, Duncan had dropped out of high school in 2000, the
year before we got together, and after that was covered we
never really had anything to talk about. I was always desperate
to find a connection.
I trace the familiar profile with my vision, follow his gaze to
the TV and back up to his lips, where fibreglass meets tooth-
front.
“Can I try some of that?”
He looks around, feigning surprise that I would speak in his
presence.
“This?” He suspends the cigarette between us. “ Are you sure
you want to do something so bad?”
“Oh shut up, Duncan, just let me try it.”
My pinched fingers sink into the spongy filter and my eyes
squint against the smoke as I bring the burning tube of tobacco
to my mouth. Wet, mushy cardboard, tingly poisonous feel on
my tongue, and the smoke that shoots into my lungs send me
into a coughing fit. Duncan takes the cigarette from my grip
before it falls to the floor. Laughter fills the room.
“Y ou deserve a drink after that.”
He’s already up and in front of the wet bar before he asks
what I would like.
“How about a martini?”
“Why don’t you come over here and actually take a look at
what I have to offer.”
The bar is stocked with rye and tequila, and there is some
beer in the fridge.
“Rye and Coke if you have it.”
“Don’t feel too bad, Sarah.” He grasps my jaw and squeezes
hard. “Y ou’re too pretty for cigarettes.”
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He laughs, enjoying a private joke as he pours the rye and
mutters to himself. Duncan teases me with the drink.
“Don’t I get a kiss?”
I smile and reach my face toward his. He moves in fast, his
tongue big and filling every inch of space in my mouth. He
pulls my hips into his body . I feel a tug on my hair that exposes
my neck, and Duncan slides his lips in a straight line to my
earlobe as he guides my idle hand to the bulge in his jeans.
“Wanna give this a try tonight?”
I laugh and take my hand away from his crotch. “Please, not
tonight.”
Slipping out of the embrace, I pick up my drink and walk
over to the couch.
Duncan follows me. I’m not able to take a sip of the rye
before he’s on me again. He lays me flat against the couch by
increasingly throwing his weight against my body . His lips are
on my shoulder, neck, in my ear.
“Fuck me.”
I can’t swallow or breathe. He’s pushing all the air from my
lungs. Reacting to my whimper, Duncan grabs both wrists and
pins them to the couch above my head.
I stare at him in terror, hoping to coax compassion back
into those dull, unrecognizable eyes. As I watch a smile flood
through his cheeks I think I’ve succeeded. But he doesn’t say a
word after he crawls off me and lights a smoke. He doesn’t
flinch when I walk my fingers down his pants, searching for
any compensation that will lead me back to grace. He pulls my
hand away and guides my lips to what lies coiled beneath the
zipper. After a minute he lifts my head. Wiping my mouth with
the back of my wrist, I look up to gauge progress, but he
ignores me. He leans forward to reach for the ashtray , places it
beside him on the couch, and settles back into a comfortable
position before palming my head once again.
As Duncan drives me home in his parents’ van, I think about
having sex for the first time.
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Why am I waiting? It’s not like he only wants me for sex. He
would have dumped me by now if that were the case. I know
he truly cares about me now, and I definitely want Duncan to
be my first. I’m in love, and that’s what people do when they’re
in love.
I look at my boyfriend as he bobs his head to the music,
with one hand on the steering wheel and one hand on my leg.
Between the shadows I see a smooth, perfect face that could
never lie to me.
Yes, he absolutely would make a good first. It’s not like we’ll
get married or anything, but I can’t imagine the two of us
breaking up. Besides, when we do have sex we’ll be closer, just
like he said. Mom said that people who love each other make
love to become closer , and that’s what I want.
“Well, sweet tits, we’re here.”
He puckers up his lips, asking for a kiss, and grabs my ass as
I touch my lips to his.
“I’ll call you after school tomorrow ,” I say .
“Okay , sugar butt.”
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TWO
As I walk down the hall of my school I notice guys looking
up to appreciate how great I look in my white T-shirt and
brown cords.
Someone runs up behind me and throws his hands over my
eyes.
“Guess who.”
“Jake, is that you?”
Jake turns me around, spinning me into a hug.
“What are you doing here? I thought you were suspended.
Hey , do you want to come to the caf with me?”
“Sure, Sarah. What have you been up to, beautiful?” he asks
as we saunter toward the cafeteria.
“Not much. Just school and shit. So, are you back yet?”
“Naw, The Bitch suspended me for three weeks. It wasn’t
even my gun, but she wouldn’t listen to me.”
“What can you do...”
Jake stops dead in his tracks to look at me. “Hey, are you
still with that guy?”
“You mean Duncan? Yeah, why?” I look back at him as we
stand in the middle of the hall.
“That’s too bad. I don’t think he’s good enough for you,
Sarah. He’s too old. Y ou’re beautiful, you’re smart, and you’re
funny . Did I mention beautiful? Y ou deserve someone so much
better. Someone like me.” He smiles and stretches out his arms
on either side of him, showing what he has to offer. 
I feel my face flush at the compliment.
“Y ou are positively prime beef, Jake. But you know, I’m sure
you could find someone else who’s good enough for you. There
are loads of great girls out there.”
“Okay, I’ll wait for you. Just do me a favour and don’t let
him get into your pants. You should save yourself for me.”
Jake’s grin starts at one ear and goes to the other.
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I smile mischievously, trying my best to impersonate Tyra
Banks on the cover of the latest issue of Vogue. “How do you
know it’s not already too late?”
His whole face falls. “No,” he moans. “They’ve got you
too.”
“Y ou’re crazy .”
We walk into the cafeteria side by side, and I imagine all of
the guys turning and looking at me with their jaws on the
floor, envious of Jake.
In reality, it’s only a small group of people that pays any
attention to our entrance. Jodi calls us over to the table.
“Hey, guys, guess what.” She talks through mouthfuls of
cafeteria fries. “There’s a party tonight at Franco’s house. I
think there’s gonna be a keg, but you’d better bring your own
just in case.”
“Wicked. Can I get a ride with you guys? I don’t think
Duncan’ll want to go.” Secretly I’m hoping he has other plans
for the night. The whole sex thing is way too much pressure—
I need a break, and there’s no better way of leaving reality for a
while than by getting completely wasted.
“Sexy, drunken, beautiful girls. I’ll be there!” Jake’s face
brightens once again.
Jodi and her boyfriend arrive at my house just before nine.
I hear them before the truck comes into view . Coming from the
bright yellow, lowered Chevy truck is the sound of a stereo
powered by two amps. Half of the cab-high cap-covered bed
is filled with a box of speakers that pump out bass. When I
get in the back seat of the small cab, the massaging vibrations
instantly soothe my whole body .
By the time we get to the party I’m ready to do some serious
drinking. I had evaded Duncan’s questions about my plans by
encouraging him to spend time with his best friend, Quake. I
knew that it would work because Quake has really been whin-
ing about Duncan spending too much time with me. I don’t
think he likes me.
Half the people at the party are already drunk. I step over
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two beer bottles and a drunk girl to find a place on the couch
next to Jake.
He opens his arms wide for a big hug and pretends to want
a kiss. He leans over to shout in my ear.
“Come outside when you’re done with that beer.”
“Why?” I ask with a smile. “Do you want to show me some-
thing?”
“Y eah, actually I do.”
I shrug and take a gulp of not-so-cold beer. Yuck. I guess it
wouldn’t be cool to plug my nose.
A group of guys are stumbling through the room on their
way to the pool when one of them stops, causing the others to
trip and almost fall.
He has no shirt on and he looks good. As he gets closer I
can see that his eyes are half-shut.
“Hey , babe, what’s your name?”
“Sarah. How about you?”
He laughs a stupid laugh. “Y ou’re cute, wanna fuck?”
“Hey , jerk-off, leave her alone,” says a sexy redhead, laugh-
ing as he tries to pull the drunk away from the couch.
“Sorry about that. Wes can be kind of a jerk sometimes.”
The redhead doesn’t seem to fit in. He looks nice, kind of
like a warm teddy bear trying to be a tough guy to impress his
friends. The bright hair makes it impossible to take him seri-
ously, especially while he’s standing in the middle of a group
with shaved heads.
I finish my beer in a hurry and look for Jake outside. He’s
sitting by the pool in a circle with four people I don’t know .
“Sarah, come sit beside me,” Jake says slowly .
My nose wrinkles at a nasty odour.
“Where’s the skunk?” I ask.
One guy looks up and smiles. “It’s right here, baby. Want
some?”
“What?”
He frowns. “What do you mean, ‘what’?”
“What am I going to do with a skunk?” I raise my eyebrows
and gesture with my hands as if to prove my point.
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Jake’s laughing like an idiot, rolling around on his side, and
this guy looks at the ground to hide his laughter.
“What’s so funny? Is there some cool thing people do with
skunks now that I don’t know about?”
A pretty blonde looks at me and explains, “He’s talking
about weed.”
“Oh.”
“I’m Stacey , by the way .”
“Hi. I’m Sarah.”
“Y eah, I know .”
Jake passes me the joint. I suck on it as hard as I can and
breathe in the smoke. The group stares at me with knowing
looks when I start to cough. The second toke goes down so
much better. It is different from a cigarette: smoother and
richer. The smoke rolls thickly down my throat and it feels
nice.
“Now pass it on,” Jake says. “Puff, puff, give.”
I break out another beer. “ Anybody want one?”
Everyone but Jake declines my offer.
“Help yourself,” I say . My head feels light and I’m having a
hard time focusing on Jake’s face. He smiles at me and I laugh,
almost spewing my beer all over myself.
“Hey look, Sarah has perma-smile and her eyes are barely
open.”
What did he say? Am I smiling?
I have an epiphany .
“Hey, man, are you trying to get me stoned so I will sleep
with you?”
He throws his arm around me. “The plan’s in motion, you
can’t stop it now .” He pauses and grins. “No, really , you know
I wouldn’t do anything like that. How about your boyfriend?”
“What?” I laugh, feeling as though I am under water.
“Your boyfriend,” he says, poking my ribs. “Has he got in
your pants yet?”
The group of guys who had tripped through the living room
now come tumbling outside, laughing and screaming.
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“They’re having a funnel contest in the kitchen, you guys
in?”
“Hey ,” Wes says. “Can I get some of that?”
He finishes it off, holding the small end expertly between his
fingers. He grabs Stacey and they follow us inside.
The party continues until about 2 a.m. Most people are
gone now . Jodi had left earlier.
Wes sits beside me as I lie on the couch in an empty living
room. “Do you want to come with us to another party? This
place is dead.”
Jake looks at me. I nod with all the energy I have.
“Can we catch a ride with you guys?”
“Sure, Mikey’s got a truck. We’ll all ride in the back.”
Jake pulls me up off my drunken ass and onto my feet and
carries me, following the redhead to his half-ton pick-up,
where he introduces me to everyone as we pile into the back.
The house is a rundown two-storey building. The railing along
the front of the porch is broken and leaning against the house.
We walk along a path made through the pile of discarded fur-
niture and garbage on the porch and through the front door
without knocking. The atmosphere of this new party is com-
pletely different. Even in my drunken state I feel a little uneasy .
The house smells like burnt nail polish and stale piss. The
music is loud and throbbing. Someone screams “I want to kill
you” at the top of his lungs and the backup girls sing.
Nice.
I only catch a glimpse of the party inhabitants who poke
their heads from the kitchen at the end of the hall, before my
bladder begins to complain. They all look completely out of it.
The people I’ve come with have already walked down the hall
so I’m left to find a bathroom on my own.
The narrow stairs are worn and scuffed. Some of the railing
is missing, and the faded wallpaper printed with rows of roses
is peeling. At the top is a short hall, one door on each side and
one at the end.
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Which one do I choose?
My bladder screams at me for ignoring it for so long. I jiggle
the loose knob on the door to my right and it swings open.
“What the fuck?” a voice asks from inside the dark room.
The voice sounds familiar, so I fumble to find the light
switch on the wall. I only want to know where the bathroom
might be, and I reason this voice will be able to tell me.
What I see sobers me up very fast. My heart stops. I blink,
aching to see something different.
In the otherwise bare room there are two naked people
sitting on a chair facing me. The person on the bottom pushes
the girl with humongous breasts to the side to see who’s inter-
rupted their sexual encounter.
His eyes grow wide and he pushes the girl off him. She
gathers her clothes from the floor and runs past me with her
hands over her head. His dick droops and shrinks toward his
body. I stand there frozen, feeling a terrible weight in my
stomach. Images of that whore with the bitch on top of him
will not leave my mind. The walls pulse with humiliation and
anger. Duncan opens his mouth. The brick in my stomach
explodes, and my bones soak up the fury like a sponge. My
blood boils over from the eruption of seething hate and pushes
me toward him.
My claws, razor sharp and hungry for blood, rip through
flesh as merrily as a carving knife slides through a pumpkin on
Halloween. The ends of my hands turn to boulders as I smash
the repulsive object between them. Harder, harder.
I lose track of time and feel large hands grasp my shoulders
and pull my writhing body backward. Through my washed-
out eyes I see Jake and Wes and another guy pounding their
thick fists into Duncan’s putrid body .
I hear someone shouting, “You fucking whore! Fucking
whore!”
A gentle voice guides me like a beacon of light away from
the horror and shock of the situation. My screaming gives way ,
and my body collapses in the pair of strong, comforting arms.
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I look up at my saviour and recognize the red hair.
“Mikey—” My voice cracks. “I have to pee,” I whisper.
Mikey smiles a sad smile and leads my useless body to the
bathroom; he opens the door for me and turns on the light.
It’s a small, dirty room. Sitting on the toilet with a broken
tank lid, I face a mildew-covered shower curtain that must
once have been white. My head hangs, drawing my attention
to the tiny , multicoloured tiles that remind me of the showers
at school. I pull my pants up without wiping—no paper—and
slump over the wall-hung sink. The cracked mirror shows what
a sick sight I am.
My long, blonde hair is tossed all over my head and sticks to
my wet face. Snot drips from my bumpy nose. My grey eyes
are glossed over and bloodshot. There is blood under my nails.
My memory of the incident is muffled. I can only remember
the sight of those enormous breasts, which makes me cry .
There is a soft knock at the door. “ Are you okay?”
I turn on the tap to wash my face and hands.
Mikey knows exactly what to do in a situation I had never
imagined possible. He takes me outside, where we sit in silence
under the cool blanket of the sky . The breeze feels good on my
burning face, caressing my swollen eyes.
As I examine the skin beneath my fingernails, I try to make
sense of things. I wonder if the consensus is wrong. It seems
more likely that men were made from the dirt under a
woman’s nails.
I glance at Mikey and my hatred for the entire male race
melts. His round, empathetic eyes radiate such love. The two
cannot be of the same species.
An unspoken bond is forming between us. I feel in debt to
Mikey . He is my knight in shining armour, and that quiet inner
glow of his brings me temporary peace.
“Oh well, what can you do,” I say with an attempted non-
chalant shrug.
Mikey looks at me with pure pity .
“That was my boyfriend in there fucking that chick.”
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“I figured as much.”
I break into an uncontrollable sob. “Why?”
“I don’t know, Sarah. I wish there was something more I
could tell you. He’s a jerk, plain and simple.”
“God, I don’t understand. What did I do wrong?” I bang my
head with the heels of my raw hands. “I can’t believe I went
psycho like that. I don’t know where it came from.”
“Well, you’re pretty drunk and it must have been a huge
shock. I think you just snapped.”
“I guess.” I’m spent. I look up for an answer, but I see noth-
ing except dozens of happy stars mocking my worthless exis-
tence.
“The bathroom was at the end of the hall,” I say, more to
myself than to Mikey .
“What?”
“Nothing. I just can’t—I just don’t know why . Hey , I wonder
what Jake and Wes will do with the body .”
“Shit!” Mikey stands up. “Will you be okay by yourself for a
minute?”
“Sure. Hey , thanks.” I hope Mikey catches the full depth of
what I am trying to say by the look in my eyes. As he turns to
run back in the house, I stand up and wander to his truck. The
rest of my beer is still in the back.
“What the hell,” I say as I crack open number five. The
warm liquid does nothing to soothe my aching heart. I wonder
if I will ever laugh again. The cliché makes me laugh instantly
and insanely between gulps of beer.
Jake and the others come sauntering out of the house. They
walk like stereotypical jocks after a good win. Stacey hangs in
the background with a sulk on her face.
“Are you okay?” I run toward Jake, horrified at the sight of
blood on his white T-shirt.
“Are you kidding? It’s not my blood.”
I involuntarily cringe. “Is he still breathing?”
“Barely ,” Wes says with a loud grunt-like laugh.
Jake throws him a vicious look.
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“He really isn’t that bad,” Jake says as he puts a comforting
hand on my shoulder.
“We should get out of here before the cops come.” Mikey
turns to me. “Where do you want to be dropped off?”
“ Actually , I think I’ll walk.”
“There’s no way I’m going to let you walk alone at night.
Anything could happen to you, especially when you’re drunk
and—”
“It’s okay, I’ll be with her,” Jake cuts in. “She can crash at
my place or I’ll walk her home. We’ll be fine together.”
“Are you sure? It’s no trouble at all to drive you somewhere.
Why don’t you let me drive you home, Sarah?” Mikey persists.
Wes is sitting in the truck with Stacey , but one of the people
we came with is standing impatiently next to Mikey. “Come
on, man, you know I’m on probation—it’s four hours past
curfew .”
“ All right. I guess we’ll see you guys later. Take care, Sarah,
and don’t get into any more fights tonight, you little scrapper.”
Mikey lets his hand linger on my chin just long enough to give
me a mini boost of strength.
They drive off into the night. That leaves just me, Jake, and
my beer. We walk in silence. 
I sit down in the middle of the road and look up at Jake,
unable to hold the rest of it in any longer. I put my face in my
hands and cry . Jake sits down beside me. He rubs my back and
feeds me beer between sobs.
Exhausted once again, I look up at him and say, “What’s
wrong with me? What did I do wrong?”
He stares at me, his features heavied by sadness. “Sweetie, if
you’re even asking that question then there’s something
wickedly wrong with you.”
My brain hurts so much that I can’t put two and two to-
gether. “Huh?”
“There isn’t anything wrong with you; it’s him.” Jake looks
at his knuckles with a satisfied grin. “That asshole’s the one
who did something wrong.”
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“But why did he cheat on me? He must have been bored
or not getting something...” My jaw drops at a horrifying
realization.
“It’s because I haven’t had sex with him. That’s why, Jake.
What a goddamned bastard.”
“Y ou saved yourself for me.” Jake jumps up and performs a
little jig on the sidewalk.
“Who says I’m saving it for you? Who says it’s still avail-
able?”
Jake just shrugs, unable to contain his notorious ear-to-ear
grin.
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THREE
I wake to a bright blue light concentrated on my face. This
unfamiliar greeting causes me to bolt upright in bed. Jake lies
beside, me snoring like a satisfied lion.
Satisfied? I feel up and down the length of the floor for my
clothes, finally discovering them still on my body .
My sigh of relief wakes him. He grins his Cheshire grin, still
half-asleep.
“ Am I still dreaming?”
I pinch him hard. “What the hell happened last night?”
“We got drunk, we got stoned, we got into a fight, and we
fell asleep. That’s what I remember.” Jake looks hurt. “You
didn’t have to pinch me so hard.”
“Sorry,” I say while searching for my shoes. “Where’s the
phone?”
“Right in front of your face,” he mumbles before he shoves
his head under the pillow .
I soak up his smooth, sculpted body with my eyes, feeling
the need to jump on top of him and make him love me.
After I call and listen to my mom lecture me about respon-
sibility , I take my place in the warm bed next to Jake and fall
asleep.
The phone wakes us up in the early afternoon. Out of habit,
I pick up the receiver, and answer in a groggy voice. My hand
drops the phone when I hear the voice at the other end of the
line.
“What was that?” asks Jake.
Good, let Duncan think I’m having sex with Jake.
“Nothing, sweetie. Let’s get back to what we were doing.”
I cut the connection and Duncan is gone. Gone for good.
“Who was that?”
“Guess. Jerk of the Y ear.”
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“Are you serious? You should have given me the phone.
Iwould have told him a few things.”
“Yeah, well, whatever. It’s over so let’s not talk about it,” I
say .
“How about I make you some breakfast?”
“French toast?”
“Sure, anything for you, Sarah. Don’t ever hesitate to ask for
anything. I mean it, not a thing,” Jake says as he looks into my
eyes and then up and down my body .
I can’t help but notice his great-looking ass as he walks out
of the room without waiting for a reply .
I follow him and stand in the kitchen watching him cook.
It feels like we’re playing house. I wish I could wake up
beside Jake every morning. I’ve never felt this way with
Duncan. I’ve never slept over at his house. I know I wouldn’t
have gotten any sleep over there.
“Where are your parents?” I ask, snooping around the
kitchen.
“My dad’s probably at work. He’s never home so I barely
talk to him anymore.”
Jake is wearing only a pair of white cotton boxers, which
nicely accent his tanned skin. If I were a guy , I’d have a boner.
Why doesn’t he have one? Am I not attractive to him, even a
little bit?
“What are you looking at? Is there something wrong with
him?” Jake stops making my breakfast long enough to let me
know I have been caught.
“Is it almost ready?” I wander away, unable to contain the
red glowing through my cheeks.
“You know you want me,” he calls after me. “There’s no
denying it now .”
I stare in awe at the amazing number of family pictures on
the mantel. In every picture a young woman smiles over her
family . A warmth rushes through me when I look into the eyes
of the woman. The family is strategically placed in each
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picture, and the kids seem to be competing to see who can
achieve the biggest smile. Jake walks up behind me.
“She’s beautiful,” I say in a soft voice.
“She’s been gone for so long now , it’s hard for me to remem-
ber the way she was. I miss her.”
I turn around and give him a hug. I know there are no words
that can make it better, so I send him loud telepathic messages
of love and support.
“Breakfast is ready,” he says, breaking away from our
embrace.
“Great,” I sigh.
“What’s the matter with you? You’re the one who wanted
me to make you French toast. Is it not good enough for you
now?”
I look at Jake, trying to display my deepest thoughts and
feelings through my eyes. I want him to kiss me.
He stares at me with a puzzled expression on his face.
“What—”
I jump up, throw my arms around his neck, and plant my
lips on his. He grabs my legs and places them around his waist
and heads toward the bedroom. Every inch of my body wants
to be touched, kissed, licked.
Then the doorbell rings and I jump off him faster than I’ve
done anything in my life. Jake stomps over to the door. He
opens it and shuts it without hesitation. The doorbell rings
again as he walks toward me. 
“Who is at the door, Jake?”
“Y ou wanna get back to what we were doing?”
“Who’s at the door?”
He slumps in a chair while I walk over to see who’s there.
“Duncan,” Jake finally replies with a despondent grunt.
I open the door. Duncan’s face is a tangled lump of flesh.
His left eye is swollen shut, red and raw. There are gashes,
scrapes, and bruises.
Without saying a word, Duncan succeeds in winning my
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heart again. I feel like Beauty . Gaston is silent in his corner.
“Are you okay?” My heart pounds hard in my chest.
“Sarah, I was wrong.”
My body wants to leap into his arms, to heal his wounds.
Yet my head is screaming, needing to know why, needing to
punish him for what he has done.
Duncan, who looks so weak and broken, seems to know
exactly what I am thinking.
“I don’t know why I did it. I was drunk. I was stupid. God,
Sarah, I am sorry . I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
I throw a guilty glance at Jake, who still sulks in his chair.
My heart pounds out the syllables of Duncan’s name.
“I’m sorry. I’m the biggest jerk in the world, but I hope
you’ll give me another chance.”
We look long and hard into each other’s eyes. He turns and
begins to walk away .
I look back at Jake, unable to move.
“Duncan!” I call out. “Wait!”
I run and wrap my arms around his thick waist. Duncan
groans in pain.
“Oh my God, I’m sorry . Will you be okay?”
“I will if you take me back.”
“Let’s go home. I’ll fix you up and you’ll be just like new in
no time.”
“That one is yours,” he says, pointing to his left eye. “You
pack a pretty good punch.”
“Pretty good?”
“Y eah, just remind me never to get on your bad side again.”
“I don’t think I’ll have to remind you,” I say with a Jake-like
grin. “Hang on a sec, okay? I think I forgot something.”
Duncan tells me that he’ll wait in the car.
“I guess you won’t be needing the French toast anymore,”
Jake spits at me.
“I’m sorry .”
“That’s okay , I’m sure I can eat it all.”
He dismisses me by turning and walking toward the kitchen.
“Jake, wait.” I follow him when he doesn’t stop. “Listen to
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me. I’m not sorry for what almost happened, but you have to
understand something: I love Duncan.”
“You love that piece of shit? That bastard who hurt you so
much by screwing some random chick? I don’t understand you
one fucking bit. He’s no good for you, Sarah.”
Tears well up in my eyes.
Jake pushes the air away from him with his palms facing me,
signalling his regret. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand why you
love him, but for whatever reason, I know you have to be with
him. But if he ever, ever does anything to hurt you like that
again, I’ll kill him. Y ou tell him he hasn’t seen nothing yet.”
“You don’t have to worry about that. He’ll never do any-
thing like that again.” I kiss his cheek. “Thanks, you’re a good
friend.”
“Don’t you forget it.” Jake’s eyes say so much more; the
glimmer of sadness is slightly more evident, but as always, he
shows no signs of giving up.
I walk toward Duncan, who is leaning against his parents’
van with an unreadable expression. He opens the passenger
door for me, which I assume to be a gesture to show how seri-
ous he is about changing. We’re on the road for two minutes
before either of us say anything.
He lights a smoke as he comes to a stop sign. “So, what did
you forget?” he asks with no tone in his voice.
The question hangs between us while I try to decide whether
or not to tell him the truth. Too much time has gone by.
Anything other than the truth would be an obvious lie. I feel
Duncan’s eyes on me as I look out the window .
“I just needed to say goodbye,” I say .
He’s silent the rest of the way home, sitting in the seat star-
ing straight ahead, moving only to put his cigarette to his lips.
I bow my head in shame for the rest of the trip. Staring at
my knees, I come to realize what a fool I made of myself with
Jake. I can’t believe that I threw myself at him. I can’t believe
how obvious and needy I acted.
Whore.
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I force Duncan to lie on the couch as soon as we arrive at his
house, sensing that his mood has changed. I take off his shirt
and a gasp of horror jumps from my throat. Duncan’s ribs are
wrapped in a tensor bandage and the rest of him is bruised.
My eyes fill with tears.
He puts his hand on the back of my neck and pulls me close
until my head rests on his shoulder.
“It’s okay ,” he whispers. “It’s not your fault.”
I choke on words I long to express as all my thoughts race
through my head. The tears spill over, and Duncan whispers
calming words into my ear. The world begins to spin when
Pamela Anderson appears on television, her gigantic breasts
mocking me. She laughs at me.
“Why?” I sob. “What did I do wrong?”
Duncan doesn’t speak for a long time.
“It wasn’t you.”
I cling to him because I feel I’ll be picked up and thrown
around by wind if I don’t.
“I never want to lose you again. Tell me how to make you
love me more than life itself. Tell me how to make you happy ,”
I plead.
“I do love you,” he says.
We kiss the most incredibly passionate kiss. Warm, glowing
blood rushes through my ready veins. This is the moment I’ve
been waiting for .
I pull away . Duncan looks surprised and disappointed.
“I want you to make love to me,” I say quietly .
He pulls my shirt over my head and fumbles to undo my
jeans. My fingers grope for his buttons. He gets down to the
floor and motions for me to get on top. He grabs my bare ass
with his large hands as I struggle to straddle him at the right
angle, so that the throbbing erection will fit inside of me. He
guides my movements by placing his hands on my hips and
presses his fingers into the flesh, trying to get a firmer grip as
he jabs himself into me deeper and lets out a roar. Sensing the
act is done, although I don’t feel a rush of gooey liquid as I
had expected, I reach out to brush the damp hair from my
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lover’s forehead. He swipes my hand away and pushes me off
him. I follow him to the couch where he flips on the television
and lights a smoke. He stares at the screen.
“That was wonderful,” I say .
He turns his head slowly, letting out a puff of smoke that
lingers over his features. There is an odd look on his face:
his smile is a mixture of unmistakable supremacy and calm
irreverence.
“Was it more wonderful than Jake’s performance?”
“What?”
“You heard me,” he says, the smile abruptly disappearing.
“Was I better than Jake?”
“I don’t know what you are talking about. You’re crazy,
Duncan. I just lost my virginity here with you.”
“You know what I hate even more than cheaters, Sarah?”
His voice thickens and takes on a deeper tone. He grabs my
hair. “Liars.”
“I’m not lying.”
Duncan pulls my hair away from my head, twisting my body
and forcing my eyes toward the ceiling. “Don’t you dare lie to
me once more or I’ll slit your throat. Do you think I’m actually
that stupid?”
I don’t say anything.
He jerks my hair, causing me to screech. I struggle to grab
the hair between his hands and my scalp.
“Thanks for the fuck, Sarah, but you didn’t think I’d let you
get away with something like cheating, did you?”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Liar!” He glides his index finger across my neck. “That
pretty neck of yours wouldn’t look so good cut open. Why
don’t you just tell me the truth and get it over with?”
“I am telling the truth.”
“I’ve had enough.” Duncan throws me to the floor by my
hair. “Get on your knees and beg for my forgiveness.”
I’m too scared to move. He arranges me into the correct
position by grabbing my shoulders.
“One more chance.”
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I can’t speak; I can only watch. He raises his hand and slams
it into my face; I feel a sting across my cheek as the force whips
my head to the side.
“You’re being a bad little girl, Sarah. Let me run down the
facts for you. Fact number one: you spent the night at Jake’s
house; fact number two: you both looked guilty when I came
to pick you up; fact number three: you’re a dirty whore.”
“Don’t talk to me like that, asshole.” The slap had brought
me back, too angry to be afraid. “I am not a whore.”
“Y ou’re pretty brave for someone in your position.”
Duncan kneels down beside me, tilting his head as though
he’s trying to see me in a different light. He brushes my hair
with his finger, then grabs a clump and slams my face into the
carpet.
“That’s for the left hook that caught me in the eye, stupid
bitch. You think you can get away with everything, don’t you.
Where’s your courage now?”
I whimper, feeling warmth run down my nostrils. Still grasp-
ing my hair, Duncan jerks my head up. The sight of blood
coming from my nose seems to unhinge him. He gets up and
paces around the room, swinging his arms through the air.
“Look what you made me do. Just look at what you’ve done,
Sarah. I can’t believe this. Y ou cheat on me and now you make
me do this.”
This roller-coaster ride makes me sick to my stomach. My
feelings of fear and anger are so mixed up I can’t be sure which
is which.
“You’re the one. You are the whore, Duncan. You are the
one that I walked in on while you were fucking that big-titted
slut. I didn’t do anything. Even if I did, it would be none of
your business. Y ou are the one who messed up.”
Duncan steps toward me with his eyes wide open, daring me
to say more. His head is cocked at an insane angle. His large
fist comes at my face. As if in slow motion, my head reels
backward and my hands reach up.
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He’s on his hands and knees shaking me. The world begins
to look like a snowy television. He is mumbling words into my
ear. My lips form a tiny O and send a gob of spit into his hair.
I feel his large, cold hands on my throat.
The world is closing off. Everything goes black except for
one closing circle, where I can see Duncan’s once beautiful
face. I expect Elmer Fudd to pop out and say in his ridiculous
voice, “That’s all, folks!” but my eyes roll back in my head and
I slip into a soothing world of emptiness.
My face is frozen. I pull the thick covers over my aching head,
but warmth does not come. The covers smell unfamiliar.
Everything comes back to me like a wave crashing over a rocky
coast. My hand automatically reaches for my face and finds an
ice pack.
There’s a note on the table beside Duncan’s bed:
I’ve gone out to get you something special.
Be back soon.
Love, Duncan
Checking first to make sure that he’s really gone, I creep out
of the house and into the night.
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FOUR
On the way home horrible images of diseased flesh and
decomposing bodies slip into my mind.
What if I am pregnant or I have AIDS? What will I do if I
find out that I am going to die? How will I tell my parents that
they will be grandparents? What will my dad think of his dis-
gusting only daughter?
Heavy thoughts weigh me down as I drag my body through
the front door of my house.
There is never a right time and now it is gone. Now I have
been wasted. Spoiled, tainted, forever impure. I will be con-
nected to Duncan for the rest of my life whether I like it or
not. And what a stupid idiot I am for not using protection.
Quietly , so as not to attract any attention to myself, I sneak
upstairs to the bathroom, where I find a bottle of precious
sleeping pills. I take only two. Not even all of these tiny pills
will solve the problems I have right now .
As I drift off I wonder how to explain the pretty black eye.
Wall... I walked into a wall.
I sleep Sunday away .
My mother knocks on my door and calls, “Sweetie, it’s din-
ner time, get up. Y ou don’t want to sleep the entire night away
as well.”
“Go away ,” I scream through my pillow .
“Don’t you have any homework?”
“I’m doing my homework. Just wake me up in the morn-
ing.”
This inconsiderate interruption keeps me awake. My head is
pounding, so I search for something that will shut it up, but
the solution doesn’t lie within arm’s length. I crawl to the
bathroom cabinet and pop a few more pills. My hideous
reflection stares at me with judgemental eyes. The left eye cries
in pain from beyond its ebony frame, and I can detect longish
bruises on my neck. My bloated face has slut written all over
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it. A laugh escapes from the evil lips. It’s all over now, it seems
to say . Y ou’re mine.
I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling and longing for the pills to
kick in.
Am I going crazy? How will I ever face anybody? I’ll never
talk to Duncan again. We are so finished. I should never have
slept with him. Small-dicked little punk-ass.
My eyes droop while these vicious thoughts swirl around in
my head.
I wish I had punched him back. He doesn’t have the right to
hurt me, and I’ll never give him the chance to do it again.
Fucking asshole.
With that I fall into a fitful sleep.
I wake before the rest of the house and get ready for school,
avoiding the mirror and covering myself with baggy jeans and
a turtleneck. I fear nothing will hide the white-trash tattoo on
my face. Even my long hair hanging in front of my eyes will
not do. Without breakfast, I slip outside just as my mother’s
alarm begins to beep. As a last-minute attempt to cover the
truth, I grab my mom’s seventies-style sunglasses on my way
out the door.
The sky is bright. I feel a flutter in my stomach, which
almost always indicates that I’ve gotten away with something. I
walk around in circles for an hour, trying to waste time until
classes start. The sun becomes stronger with each step I take
toward the park that I got to know during grade nine English
classes. The park is little, which gives me a cosy, comforting
feeling. It has only a set of swings and a few picnic tables and
it’s almost always deserted—which is the other reason I love it.
The swing soothes me. My life seems free of problems, free
of pain, and free of guilt. My head is empty , my soul happy .
In my happiness I imagine a world where I can keep this
beautiful feeling. There is a tall, handsome man standing next
to me. He smiles with strong lips and holds my hand protec-
tively . He looks upon my radiant head with knowing eyes. In
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my arms I cradle a small child. He is crying, so I put my nipple
to his hungry mouth and he is happy . We are all so happy . The
large, white house in the background even looks happy . Its bay
window, large double doors, and two rectangular upper-floor
windows form an odd-looking grin. Running around in the
foreground is a large sheepdog. He too is smiling with his
doggy lips. His soft eyes reflect a full stomach and a large
backyard.
The fantasy is killed by someone’s breath on the back of my
neck. My knuckles turn white as I grip the steel chains that
keep me from falling. Is it just the wind? Am I just being para-
noid?
I hear a throat clearing. I’ve heard that throat clear itself
thousands of times, and I’d like to cut that throat in half and
watch all the blood gush from it in generous quantities. I pray
that he does not speak. Don’t say a word; I beg you. Please
walk away, just go away.
Large hands come down on my shoulders. My skin crawls,
but I try to be still. If I don’t react he will leave. That’s what
my dad told me to do with bullies. My eye throbs. The blood
is not reaching my fingertips. I hold my breath. The hands
creep up my nape and massage the back of my skull. How
does he know my head aches? My stomach heaves, and threat-
ens to give me away . Just hold on until he goes away. He will go
away. The hands slither toward my cheeks. They brush them
ever so gently: a deliberate move designed to make my body
quiver.
“Sarah.” The voice is soft. “Sarah, where did you go yester-
day? I was worried about you. Anything could have hap-
pened.”
Don’t respond. Play dead, just like you would if you
encountered a bear. Don’t make a move or a sound. He will
leave, I promise. My throat closes off. Tears well up in my eyes.
Don’t cry; that’s a reaction. I try to be as still as possible. I
can’t let him know that I still love him. I can’t let anyone know
because I don’t want to let him hurt me again. He can’t hurt
me if I don’t do anything to hurt him.
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“Sarah, it hurts me when you ignore me like this. Why don’t
you look at me? I need you to look at me.”
Slowly , I get up and turn around. Every muscle in my body
resists my brain’s reluctant message. I see a face of regret. The
shadows under his eyes betray worry-filled hours. Most of the
cuts and bruises have begun to heal, but he still looks horrible.
His square shoulders are rounded, his full cheeks are sunken,
and his lips tremble as he tries to speak.
A mess of jumbled words spills out of his mouth before my
legs can collect enough strength to walk away . “I am so sorry .
I’ve never done anything like that before, and I don’t know
what came over me. I can’t expect you to forgive me, but I wish
you would try . You have to forgive me. I’ll kill myself before I
ever treat you that way again. I shouldn’t have hit you. I just
can’t control my anger sometimes. I was out of control. I lost
my head for a minute when I thought that you had been with
Jake. Please forgive me. I promise that I will never, ever do any-
thing like that again if you’ll just forgive me. Please, Sarah, for-
give me.”
The tears expose my innermost thoughts. There is nothing I
can say. I’d be a hypocrite if I told him that I don’t love him as
much as he loves me. I’d be lying if I said I don’t want to try
again. I truly believe that love conquers all, so why should the
situation end like this? Why shouldn’t I give him another
chance? He can change. My love will change him. If he didn’t
want to change, he wouldn’t have come back.
“I’ll change for you, Sarah, I will.” He seems to read my
thoughts. “I have already started. Being without you is some-
thing that I just can’t handle. For you I’ll do anything. I’ll
become the person you want me to be. I need your love.”
His embrace is so comforting. I feel as though everything
will be okay. Nothing can come between us now. Lovers go
through hard times, but that only makes them stronger. This
will make us invincible.
Duncan breaks away and smiles at me. “I got you some-
thing.”
He pulls a long, narrow box from his inner coat pocket. The
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name of a local jewellery shop is printed in gold letters on the
top. My face lights up as he pushes it toward me and opens it,
revealing a beautiful gold necklace.
“Oh, Duncan, it’s perfect.” I throw my arms around his
waist.
He motions for me to turn around. I pile my hair on my
head as he fastens the gift around my neck. The necklace has a
charm that reads, “My Girl,” and sits on my collarbone wait-
ing for the world to read it.
He looks at his watch. “Hey , you’re going to be late for class.
Do you want me to come pick you up after school?”
“No, it’s okay. I’ll probably have lots of homework that I
should do before I go over to your house tonight. I’ll call you.”
“Y ou won’t regret this, Sarah,” he says.
“I love you.”
“Me too.”
In my own world, living on the high of love, I forget to place
the oversized glasses on my face before I walk into the school. I
am oblivious to everyone’s odd looks until Jake jumps in my
path. His face is one of painful knowing and pride-denting
pity . He’s knocked me off my cloud and too late I try to jam
my glasses over my eyes. He takes me gently by the arm and
leads me behind the school. The bell rings and a few stragglers
hurry toward class. It is just me and Jake now. I brace myself
for the worst. Or at least I think I do. I realize when he looks
up at me with tears in his eyes that I haven’t even begun to
imagine the worst.
“Sarah,” he says in a firm tone, “you have to leave him.
Don’t try to tell me he didn’t do this to you and then give you
that necklace to apologize.”
Jake touches the necklace, which lies over the material of my
turtleneck and disrupts my cover, exposing faint purple repli-
cas of Duncan’s fingers. His hand stops in mid-air while he
takes in the sight. I can hear him breath sharply before he con-
tinues. “Don’t tell me that you love each other and you’ll work
it out. Or that he is sorry and he’ll never do it again. It’s all
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bullshit. Y ou’re playing with fire; you don’t know how danger-
ous this guy is.”
I look at him through my invisible disguise. My throat is
coated with the now familiar salty thickness of sorrow and
anger. “Y ou don’t know anything. What gives you the right to
tell me what to do with my life? He really does love me and he
will change for me. You’re just pissed off because you didn’t
get into my pants.”
The instant those words come out of my mouth I regret
them. I wish I can take them back when I see Jake’s lips quiver.
Determined to get through to me, he persists. “I lied to you
before. My dad wasn’t at work when you came over to the
house. He’s in jail and my brothers are locked away in some
foster home.” He takes a deep breath. “I watched him treat her
like crap for most of my life; he put her down in front of her
friends and slapped her when she tried to stop him from beat-
ing us. My dad beat my mom to death with a baseball bat.
Sarah, I watched him kill her, and I didn’t do anything to stop
him. She’s gone now and I can’t do a fucking thing about it.
And I’ll be damned if I watch the same thing happen to you. I
won’t let you die at the hands of that bastard. Please leave him,
Sarah. Don’t let him kill you.”
I am running as fast as I can, ignoring Jake’s pleas. The
wind is in my hair and the scenery blurs past me. I run and run
until I’m out of breath. My lungs are burning, and I flop down
on a patch of grass beside the road. Tears drown out the noise
of cars, and my whole body shakes. I curl up in the fetal posi-
tion and try to soothe myself with thoughts of running away .
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FIVE
The sky has darkened and the wind has picked up. I look up
and see that the dismal clouds threaten rain. I’ve broken down
on the side of the highway. I slowly pull myself up onto my
rubbery legs: the first steps of a just-born colt. I am exhausted,
wanting only to go home and sleep. But home is far away , and I
don’t have a car. 
A loud horn sounds behind me. I feel the dim warmth of
headlights shining on my back and hear a vehicle slow down.
Mikey’s truck pulls onto the side of the road ahead of me. I
search frantically for my sunglasses, not wanting a repeat of
this morning’s episode. The glasses are lost; they must have
fallen off my face while I ran. The sky opens up and the rain
washes away the tear stains on my cheeks. For the first time
today I feel grateful. Mikey gets out of his truck and runs to
me with an old winter jacket.
“What are you doing out in the rain? Come on,” he says as
he holds the coat over my head, “let’s get out of here.”
I climb into the passenger side of Mikey’s truck. He looks
over at me and doesn’t say a word about my black eye. He
doesn’t punish me for being so stupid or notice the tarnished
necklace against my collarbone. He just fixes his eyes on the
road and drives.
The windshield wipers and the rain beating down on the
metal roof are the only sounds inside the truck on our drive
toward town. I ran far; it takes us ten minutes to get to my
house. Mikey stops in front and cuts the engine. The wipers
stop. The rain beats harder. I sit in his warm truck for a full
minute without saying a word. He gives me time to decide
what needs to be done and said. I thrust the words out of my
mouth.
“I don’t want to go home. Anywhere but here,” I add in a
softer tone.
He starts up his truck and drives away . I’m happy to leave
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behind the hellhole my parents call home. The last thing I need
right now is to walk into an empty house, or a house filled
with the aroma of Jack Daniel’s. That’s something I will never
drink.
Sirens sound behind us.
“Fuck.” He pulls onto the soft shoulder and drums his
fingers against the steering wheel as he waits for the cop to
come to the window .
“Hey there, Mikey,” says the cop. “Whatcha been up to
today?”
“Not much.”
“Is this pretty lady new to the family? Why don’t you intro-
duce us.”
“Her name’s Sarah.”
“Nice to meet you, Sarah. What is a good little girl like you
doing hanging out with guys like this?”
I shrug and glance at Mikey for an explanation. He won’t
look me in the eye.
“Seen Wes today?”
“Nope,” Mikey says, keeping his eyes on the road ahead of
him.
“Well, you just let him know we were checking up on him.”
The cop slaps the side of the truck. “Have a nice day .”
Mikey pulls back onto the road without signalling. “God-
damned pigs.”
“What was that all about?”
“I don’t know .”
“Hey , by the way , how’d you know where I live?”
He doesn’t look away from the road. “Uh, Jake might have
told me.”
“He might have told you? When? What for?”
“He was worried about you, Sarah. He thought I might be
able to help.”
“I don’t need any help.”
“I didn’t say you did. I just thought you might not want to
stay out in the rain.”
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“Let’s just not talk about this anymore, okay?”
“Okay .”
I busy myself by going through Mikey’s CD collection
instead of pursuing it further. I find The Eagles and ask if I can
change the music.
“Sure” is all he says. He keeps his eyes on the road and con-
tinues to tap on the steering wheel as music blares out of the
speakers.
We drive down a winding road with a forest of trees on
either side. 
Mikey drives fast through the curves and dips of the road. I
get a rush in my stomach. I feel alive—more alive than I have
in a while.
He pulls onto a steep, unpaved side road. The end of the
road brings a beautiful view of the green lake, each raindrop
creating chaos on its surface. Tall trees and a grey, angry sky
surround the lake.
“Is this where you take your girlfriends when you want to get
laid?” I ask, unaware that I have spoken aloud, lost in my own
memories of Jake’s harsh words.
“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Mikey responds in a puzzled
voice.
“I’m sorry, I’m not in the best of moods. I haven’t had the
best day .”
“I come up here when I need to clear my head. You’re the
first person I’ve brought with me because I figured you could
use a place to clear your head.”
“That’s really sweet, but I’m fine. I told you I don’t need any
help. I’ll be okay .”
“If you don’t need any help, then what were you doing on
the side of the highway?”
The question seems cruel so I lash out once more. “Hey,
what business is it of yours? Y ou have no right to judge me.” I
reach over to open the door.
Mikey’s firm grasp on my arm convinces me to close it.
“Sarah, I’m sorry . That wasn’t right. It’s just that you look like
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you need someone to talk to. You can trust me with your
secrets.”
His eyes display the same concern and dependability that I
saw the other night. I let go of all the anger and fear I’ve been
holding inside of me. I tell Mikey everything I’d been through
in the past few days and that I don’t know what to do.
“I don’t know what you should do, but I do know that you
look a lot prettier without that bruise on your face. I think
you’re worth more than that, but you have to make your own
choice.”
I search around the cab of the truck for something to fiddle
with and find a cold object under my seat.
“What’s in here?”
“Gin,” Mikey replies. “I keep it in case of emergency .”
I ask for a sip and take a large, comforting gulp from the
flask.
“I don’t get it, Mikey . He’s never done anything like this in
the four months that we’ve been together. An article I read said
that if a man didn’t show any signs of abusive behaviour with-
in the first two months then it was likely never to happen. He’s
such a nice guy inside. It was my fault anyway .”
Mikey sighs as I take another sip. 
“It was.”
He says nothing, only looks out the window at the lake.
“Let’s do something fun. Are there any parties tonight?”
“I don’t know , it’s Monday ,” he says.
“Let’s make our own party, then. Where are Wes and the
boys?”
I ring Wes’s doorbell with a case of beer between my feet. His
face registers confusion and then he sees Mikey and motions
for us to follow him into the apartment.
“Y ou’re that girl from the party the other night, right? What
was your name again?”
“Sarah,” I say as he leads us up a flight of narrow stairs,
through a short hall, and into a sparsely furnished living room.
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A large unit filled with stereo equipment takes up one wall,
and there’s a cardboard box in front of a ratty looking couch,
which is taken up by two guys and Stacey . They all look at us
with absent eyes.
“Hey , Mikey ,” they say in unison.
“Since when did you start ringing the bell?” one asks.
He shrugs. “She insisted.”
“Sarah, good to see you again,” Stacey says.
Mikey introduces me to Pete and Mark. I recognize them
from school, but they don’t show any signs of realizing who I
am. I sit next to Mikey on the carpeted floor underneath the
only other piece of furniture in the room: a lamp. As they talk
about old times I concentrate on getting drunk. The first beer
is always the easiest. It slides down my hungry throat like a kid
on an icy hill. The second is a little more difficult because I
have to negotiate my need for the alcohol with my need for the
toilet. The only bad thing about getting drunk is having to pee
so much. I hate to leave an unfinished beer, so I finish off my
second bottle as Mikey continues to talk and nurse his first
drink.
“Where’s the bathroom?”
“It’s right next to the kitchen where you came in,” Wes says.
It’s not hard to find in the small apartment. I prop myself up
and count four large cracks in the plaster while squatting over
the stained toilet. There is no toilet paper. As I pull my pants
up past my knees I discover a wad of tissue in the corner of the
windowsill. It looks clean enough, but I can’t bring myself to
touch what could be used paper. I sneak a peak in the bath-
room cabinet and find that there isn’t a single thing in there.
“That’s a nice shiner you got there,” Wes says when I walk
back into the living room. “How’d you get it?”
“Oh, you know, I walked into a wall,” I say, taking a seat
between Mikey and my case of beer. That doesn’t even con-
vince me. The rattle of beer bottles knocking against each
other almost drowns out Wes’s comment about Duncan.
“Is it that obvious?” I ask.
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Stacey pipes up. “It’s okay , Sarah, I’ve been through the same
thing. You don’t have to worry about what these guys say, as
long as you get rid of whoever gave you that black eye.
“How did you get rid of him?” I ask, unsure if I really want
the answer.
“I just kicked him to the curb. One day I got sick of him
beating me and I told him I wasn’t going to take it anymore.
He beat the shit out of me for that, but these guys took care of
him and I haven’t heard from him since,” she says.
“But what if the guy really loves you?” I ask.
Everyone groans.
“Forget I said anything.” I sink into myself, trying to
become invisible.
“You up for bar-hopping tonight, Mikey?” Wes asks. “It’s
double-fisted night at Club 62.”
Mikey looks in my direction. “Sarah’s only fifteen.”
“She looks at least eighteen. Y ou got any fake ID?”
I shake my head, still wallowing in my private sorrow .
Wes gets up and offers me his hand. “Step into my office.
We’ll see if we can find you something.”
I take his hand and follow him into a bedroom, where I sit
down on a single mattress which lies on the floor. Wes opens
and shuts drawers of a filing cabinet.
“Everyone here has fake ID but me. Mikey and Stacey are
the youngest of us—they’re only seventeen,” he says as he
searches through the drawers. “ Aha, I knew I had something in
here that looks like you.” He tosses a card in my lap.
I look at the picture on the licence. It’s scary how much this
girl resembles me. I wonder if I have a sister that my parents
have been hiding from me.
He sits beside me on the bed. “I met Patty a few years ago.
She died in a car crash last year just before she turned nine-
teen. Her boyfriend was drunk. She lived in Toronto, so don’t
use that ID at the Docks; they knew her really well.”
“I don’t know about this, Wes. It’s kind of spooky pretend-
ing to be someone who’s dead.”
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“Just don’t think about it like that. For tonight, you’re Patty
and you’re alive. You’re going to love the bar, but we have to
get you a different outfit. Do you have anything you can change
into?”
“No. I don’t want to go home to get anything either,” I say ,
still staring at the picture.
“We’ll see if Stacey has anything for you. This’ll be great.
Y ou’re going to have so much fun.” Wes takes the licence from
my hands. “She really was beautiful, wasn’t she?”
“I think maybe it’s the fact that a dead person looks so
much like me that’s scary . She has my hair, and my facial struc-
ture. I wish I could have met her.”
“She was great, a real partier. It was her boyfriend who took
her life. I think his name was Ed. He’s in jail right now. She
was so sweet and almost innocent at times. I miss her,” Wes
says.
I hug him and whisper thanks in his ear. “I’m sure she’s
looking out for you.”
“It’s a real shame that she got in the car with him. She
should have gotten rid of him long before that crash happened.
He hit her all the time.”
“Okay, I get it. I’ll get rid of Duncan, are you happy now?
Why do you care, anyway?”
“I wasn’t trying to tell you what to do. I was just telling you
Patty’s story .”
“Sorry , I guess I just have Duncan on the brain.”
Back in the living room I proudly show off my new ID.
“A w, Wes. Why did you have to give her Patty’s ID? Does she
know how she died?” Mikey asks.
“Yes,” he says, dismissing Mikey’s concern. “We’re going to
have a great time tonight.”
“You don’t mind using the ID of a suicide victim?” Mikey
asks with concern in his eyes.
I shoot a look at Wes. “Car crash, huh? Well, I guess you
were trying to talk some sense into me in your own twisted
way . No, I don’t mind using her licence. From now on, just call
me Patty .”
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Wes claps his hands together. “All right, we’re in business.
Stacey , do you have anything for Patty to wear tonight?”
“I might have something. Come on, Sarah, let’s go look.”
Once again I find myself in Wes’s room. Stacey rifles
through her closet, throwing certain pieces of clothing at me
and frowning at others. I drink another beer before she finds
something suitable.
“You are very pretty,” Stacey says with her head buried in
the closet.
“Do you really think so? I always think of myself as plain.”
“No, really .” Stacey faces me. “Y ou have great features, and
your hair”—she touches my long locks—“wow , it’s so soft. It’s
got great colour too.”
“I don’t know , it just hangs there.”
“Yeah, but you can do so many things with it. You know, a
beautiful girl like you shouldn’t settle for a guy who hits you. A
great guy once told me that and it changed my life. This outfit
will look great on you.”
“Didn’t you find it hard to leave him?”
“No. It was time.”
“But did you love him?”
“I thought I did,” Stacey says. “But then I realized, with the
help of some friends, that real love doesn’t hurt like that.”
“But he’s only done it once and he didn’t mean to. He’s not
really like that,” I say , trying to make her understand.
“It always starts with once.”
“But it was my fault.”
She tilts her head, challenging me to make sense of my state-
ment.
“Stacey, I let him believe that I slept with Jake. Duncan
called his house in the morning. That’s why he hit me, because
he thought I slept with Jake.”
My new friend takes my chin in her hand and pulls me close
to her face.
“This is something you’ll have to learn on your own, but I
want you to listen to my words very carefully because it’s the
key to getting out.” Stacey looks into my eyes without blinking
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for a long moment. “No matter what you do, no matter how
bad something you do may be, you never deserve to be hit.
Never.”
She leaves me alone in the room. I change into my new
outfit, leaving my old clothes balled up in the middle of the
floor. I take the thin necklace off my neck and throw it onto
the bed behind me.
The group whistles as I walk into the living room.
“Y ou look beautiful,” Mikey says.
“Y ou look just like Patty . That’s something she’d wear,” says
Pete.
“I think you look great,” Wes says. “Very classy , and there’s
no doubt you’re nineteen.”
I am thrilled by all of the compliments, but I can’t help the
feeling that I’m playing with fate.
“I’m gonna call Jake and see if he wants to come along,”
Wes says.
“Why?” I gasp. “I don’t want to see him right now .”
“Oh, Patty,” Wes says. “Jake’s a good guy and we always
have a good time. Let us call.”
I shrug. “Whatever.”
“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” asks Mikey .
“I guess. If everyone else wants him here.”
“I’m calling right now,” Wes says on his way out of the
room.
Pete and Mark light up a couple of joints just as I am open-
ing a new beer. The room fills with skunk-smelling smoke.
“He’s on his way,” Wes says after he walks back into the
room.
I take a long drag from the joint that he passes to me. This
time I don’t cough. I take another drag, enjoying the tingly
feeling that sweeps through my limbs. This joint makes me feel
even better than before. I pass it to Stacey .
Pete passes Mikey another joint. “What was Jake up to?”
“Does he know I am here?” I ask.
“Y es,” Wes replies. “I think that’s why he’s coming.”
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I am in the bathroom. I don’t know how I got here so I must
be drunk. I look at myself in the mirror. My eyes are red and
narrow, my face flushed. The dark circle around my eye is still
there. Who gave this to me? I can’t remember his name. Maybe
this is a good thing. But this black eye has got to go. I open the
door. I can’t remember whether I peed or not. I stop walking
just long enough to see if my bladder is empty . I don’t feel like
going to pee. I must have peed already.
“Hey , Stacey ,” I yell as I walk into the living room. “Do you
have any makeup?”
“You want to get rid of that black eye?” she says in the
underwater tone of someone who’s stoned.
“Y eah, it’s ugly .”
“All right, let’s go into the bathroom.” Stacey eases herself
off the couch, taking a haul from the joint, and follows me to
the bathroom.
“You sit on the counter and don’t move.” She rummages
around in her bag and pulls out a bottle of liquid foundation.
“Oh man, I’m fucked.”
“Can you put it on okay? I don’t want to look completely
stupid.”
“Do you want to put it on yourself?”
“No, I’m fucked too.” We both laugh. Stacey sounds like a
cricket, which makes me laugh even more. “Stop, I can’t
breathe.”
She breathes loudly through her mouth, succeeding in cut-
ting off her laughter, but her breathing makes me laugh even
harder.
“If you don’t stop laughing, I’m going to start again,” she
says. “Hold your breath.”
I pull all of the air that’s left in the bathroom into my lungs
until my cheeks are puffed out.
“Y ou look like a chipmunk,” Stacey says.
I try to ignore her, but my head shakes wildly . My lungs are
about to explode. I let out all of the air in my lungs with one
loud breath.
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“Okay , I’m better now . Let’s see if we can get rid of this hor-
rible mark on my face. Is it still there?”
“Y up.”
“Are you sure?”
“Y up.”
“Y ou’re positive?”
“Y es,” she says, exasperated.
“Okay , then let’s get rid of it.”
“Look up,” she commands.
Stacey gently rubs the liquid goo under my eye. It’s cool and
creamy . She uses a soft sponge to rub it in and then does the
same to my other eye. Her fingers feel so nice on my face as
she blends the makeup. A thousand tiny men with tiny fingers
are massaging me. Her fingers are as soft as a Q-tip. My cheeks
grow rosy even before Stacey adds blush. My plump lips await
nourishment. Every touch of the brush against my cheeks
sends my blood pumping faster through my veins. My fingers
crave flesh. As if my dreams have been answered, a creamy
substance is on my lips. The fingers trace my lips. My tongue
licks my lips, touching the fingers. My lips close over the
fingers, sucking all of the feeling from them. They’re so soft.
The room grows fiery hot and wet lips touch mine. My tongue
hungrily searches for another. I am lost in my own world of
ecstasy . Every pore in my body emits a need to be touched. The
body throws itself toward me and hungrily leans into me. Flesh
is very close now. My fingers rush to eat up every succulent,
smooth inch of it. The fingers tenderly stroke my breasts. A
loud bang breaks through the foggy heat in the small room.
“What?” a voice yells.
The door opens. Wes stands over us with a grin.
“I didn’t know you swung that way , Patty .”
“Jesus, Wes. What is your problem?” Stacey spits out.
“How did you guys like that weed?” he asks.
“Why , what was in it?”
“Oh, nothing.”
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Stacey jumps away from me and pulls Wes close to her by his
shirt. “What was in it?” she repeats through clenched teeth.
“Y ou guess. Did you feel a little bit of … ecstasy?”
Stacey lets Wes go with disgust. “Why didn’t you tell us?
Sarah’s probably never tried that before. What if she didn’t
want to try it?”
“Well, she’s tried a little bit of everything now, hasn’t she.”
Wes walks away , laughter bubbling from his throat.
“God, I’m sorry ,” she says. “I didn’t realize he put Ecstasy in
the weed. Are you okay?”
My mouth hangs open and my eyes stare up at the ceiling.
“What? What just happened?”
“Oh man. Y ou’re totally fucked, aren’t you.”
I nod and smile at Stacey . Somehow I put together my expe-
rience and her fingers. “That was great. Better than any guy
I’ve ever had.”
She kisses me on the lips. “Y ou’ve never kissed a girl before,
have you.”
“No. I hadn’t done anything that intense with a guy either
until about four months ago.”
“Oh Christ.” She puts her hand on her forehead as though
she’s trying to steady herself.
“Are you fucked?”
“I think I just was. Here,” she says, “let’s get that makeup
fixed before we hit the clubs.”
She leaves the door open as she puts the finishing touches on
my face.
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SIX
“Can you walk?” Stacey asks.
I don’t answer because my words are stuck in my head. She
holds me up as we walk into the living room and plops me
down on the couch next to Mikey .
“Y ou look horrible,” he says.
“Is it the makeup?” I manage to say .
“No, you look really , really drunk.”
“Touch her,” Wes says. He walks up to me and runs the tip
of his finger along my cheek. My eyes close. My body melts.
“What did you do to her?” I hear someone ask.
“Nothing that she didn’t do to herself,” Wes replies.
He takes his finger away from my cheek and I’m left cold for
the second time tonight. My eyes open. Stacey is tugging at
Wes.
“I don’t appreciate you trying to recruit girls for me, Wes,”
she’s hissing.
“I thought she would be just like Patty . I was right, wasn’t I?”
“It’s not something you have the right to be involved in,
okay? What I do and want is none of your business.”
They fade away toward the bedroom.
“They’ll be in there a while,” Pete says.
“Y eah, let’s smoke another one while we wait,” Mark says.
Mikey looks at me with narrow eyes. “ Are you feeling okay?
Y ou look like you’re going to puke.”
“I’m fine. I just need another beer.”
“How about a coffee?” he asks, getting up and heading
toward the kitchen.
“Yeah,” Mark says. “You’ll never get into the bar looking
that drunk.”
“Hey , come on up,” Mikey yells from the kitchen.
“Can I have some of that?” I ask Mark.
“I don’t think you need any more of this stuff, little girl. Just
drink the coffee when it comes out,” he says.
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“I’m not a little girl,” I whine.
“Just give her some, Mark,” Pete says.
He takes the joint from Mark and hands it to me. My body
relaxes instantly as I inhale the rich smoke. Just as I am about
to put the joint against my lips again, Jake walks into the liv-
ing room.
“Holy shit, you’re wasted,” he says when he sees me. “I let
you try that stuff once and now you’re addicted. Here, give me
some of that.”
“Nice to see you too, Jakey ,” Pete says.
“Y eah, hi.” Jake sits next to me. “Well, the black eye is gone.
Did you get rid of Duncan too?”
“I haven’t talked to him since this morning,” I say . My words
come out slowly and my body feels heavy . “It’s still there, it’s
just under a lot of makeup.”
“What?” Jake asks, letting the smoke roll out of his mouth.
“The black eye. It’s still there, it’s just under a lot of make-
up.”
“Oh. And Duncan’s still there too, isn’t he.”
“God, Jake, can we not talk about Duncan tonight? I came
here to have a good time.”
“ And have a good time you did,” says Mark.
Pete jabs Mark in the ribs with his elbow .
“What are you guys talking about? Hey , where are Wes and
Stacey?” Jake asks.
“Having a good time,” Mark says through his laughter.
Both Mark and Pete crack up.
“What’s so funny?” Mikey asks, walking into the living
room with two cups of coffee. He takes a place on the other
side of me. Jake’s leg touches one side of me and Mikey’s leg
touches the other. The warmth of the coffee cup between my
hands flings me into a sexual fantasy . Jake begins by kissing my
cheek, Mikey kisses my other cheek and their hands slide up
my thighs. They work together to get my shirt off. All four
hands thirstily grab at my breasts. Two sets of lips kiss their
way down my neck, my chest, my stomach, my—
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“Sarah, are you okay?” Jake asks.
I let go of his shirt and nod.
“Are you sure?” Mikey asks.
I let go of Mikey’s shirt and nod profusely .
“Wes gave her some Ecstasy,” Mark says with a smirk.
“Looks like she’s taken to it well.”
Jake looks at me with an odd expression on his face. “Were
you just—”
“Oh shut up, Jake—Just drink your coffee, Sarah,” Mikey
encourages.
I stand rather shakily on Stacey’s high heels. She is smiling at
me now . Everyone seems to be more excited about my first bar
experience than I am. I have no idea what to expect. Crazy
images race through my mind. There are many overstuffed
couches that house couples, all in different stages of sex. Some
have their pants right off and are screwing in front of every-
body. Then the bar turns into a small room filled with light
reflecting off the huge disco ball on the ceiling. Females are
dressed in skin-tight clothing; males wear lumberjack outfits
with frills. They are passing around a joint. Some are shooting
needles. I cringe at the thought. It is a big, wide-open room
now with tables placed all over the floor. Each of the tables has
a different kind of liquor. People stare at me when I walk in.
They know I don’t belong here.
I look at Mikey . My throat closes as I try to ask for a ride
home.
“Are you okay? You look like you’re going to throw up,”
Jake says in my ear.
“She’s okay , just a little nervous,” Wes says.
He turns to me and straightens up my shirt. “Keep your
head up. Just act like you belong here, because tonight you’re
Patty .”
The cool air brings goosebumps to my naked arms and belly
as we approach the bar’s entrance. Stacey and Wes shove me
ahead. The bouncer nods at Wes. He looks at me from under a
raised brow when I jam Patty’s licence into his hands, which he
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stares at for a long time under the gruelling glare of his flash-
light. Then he looks back at me, searching my face for God
knows what. I hold my breath. He hands the piece of plastic
back to me and motions for me to head inside, brushing my
ass with his hand as I sneak past him into the darkness. The
music doesn’t seem very loud, but I can feel it in my legs just
inside the door. It looks like the box office at a movie theatre.
The girl behind the window motions for me to come over.
“It’s five dollars,” she says in a bored voice. Her eyes are
laughing at me.
Can she tell I’m stoned?
I fumble with the tiny purse of Stacey’s and slide a ten-
dollar bill under the plastic glass. She sends back a five and
holds out a stamp. I place my palm over the outline on the
counter. She grinds the stamp into the back of my hand. It is a
picture of Scooby-Doo.
Not knowing what else to do, I force the black door open
with my shoulder and I’m immediately immersed in the music.
It invades my body , takes me over. The dimly lit room is filled
with thunderous music. A smile pastes itself to my lips when
I notice the people look just like me. They don’t turn around
to look at me; the music doesn’t stop because I don’t
belong. There are two floors. The first is flooded with gyrating,
drunken teenagers. At the very back of the long room is a bar
that appears to fill the whole back wall. Right beside me is a
smaller bar. The female bartender has big, dark hair piled on
top of her head. She’s dressed in what looks like a black
leather bra and skin-tight black leather pants. The male bar-
tender wears a tight white shirt and jeans. There is a cigarette
hanging off his lips. His muscles bulge from beneath the
constricting clothing. I’m drawn to his five-o’clock shadow and
hard jawline. He takes my order before that of the other girls
standing there, then winks and shrugs away my money .
I drink from the plastic cup and take a closer look at my
fellow bar-goers. I see nobody I know, yet the faces are kind.
I catch the eyes of a group of guys standing near a pillar. They
look at me and then at each other. I smile at them, my face
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filling with the enchanted pleasure of sexual attention. The
best looking of the group is being slapped on the shoulder and
pushed in my direction. I look away and find myself staring
into eyes filled with disgust.
An average-looking girl dressed in clothes way too tight for
her bulk glares at me with deadly intention. She is surrounded
by four girls who are each at least twice my size.
All at once the guy is in front of me. He touches my shoul-
der and leans too close to my face. I slink backward until my
butt meets the wall. He walks forward, getting closer and
closer. I feel trapped. I look around but find no saviour, only
those hard eyes planning my death. Then there’s an arm
around me, and Jake is staring a warning at the guy who has
cornered me. The guy shrugs, laughs, and walks back toward
his circle of friends.
Jake’s lips are next to my ear. “Y ou looked a little lost.”
I smile my thanks at him as he steers me through the maze
of wiggling asses and grinding hips, to a round table at the
back of the bar where Mikey and the rest of them are talking
and drinking. Wes holds up a plastic cup, then puts it in my
left hand. Jake’s protective arm stays around my shoulder.
“She’s double-fistin’ it,” yells Wes.
I finish my first free beer and start on the other.
Mikey takes a swig from his cup. “Do you want to play pool,
Jake?”
Jake shakes his head and pulls me closer.
I watch Mikey as he climbs the stairs and then disappears.
“Why didn’t you go with him?” I say to Jake.
“I don’t feel like playing pool,” he says with his lips next to
my ear.
“Hey,” yells Stacey, “let’s dance.” She grabs me by the arm
and pulls me away from Jake.
She drags me into the middle of a huge sea of moving bodies.
A girl stumbles into me and apologizes with a drunken grin.
I’m boxed in. Sides I didn’t even know I had are being rubbed
up against and bumped and stepped on. I drink some beer,
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unsure of how to move to the music that pulses through my
veins. Stacey hands me a lit cigarette and transforms herself
into a vertical stream of rippling water. She flows as though
she’s spent hours in front of a mirror perfecting the movement.
Flabbergasted, I look around to check out other people’s
moves. The bass cuts out and Marvin Gaye’s “Sexual Healing”
fills the room. The song takes over my body and my hips begin
to sway on their own. My legs dip deep toward the floor. I
throw my head back and laugh without hearing the familiar
squeal of exhilaration.
“This is great,” I yell at Stacey .
She touches my shoulder. “It’s fun, isn’t it.”
My whole body sways in tune with my hips. Stacey’s face is
a smile, which I assume to be a sign of how impressed she is
with my dancing style. As I’m concentrating on perfecting my
new moves I become aware of a force behind me. The force
grinds with my body . I shift my hips right and the force shifts
right only seconds after I do. I shift my hips left, the force
follows me. I dip my legs and throw my head backward, bump-
ing my head on a chest. There is a grinning face full of acne
and nose above mine. I turn around and begin to dance with
him, not knowing what else to do. 
The face doesn’t look much better right side up; maybe even
worse. But this guy is dancing with me. He didn’t even ask like
they do at the high school dances. Maybe that’s what Stacey
was smiling at. She must have seen him before I did.
I don’t like dancing with this guy , and he keeps stepping on
my feet. I shoot Stacey a look and she’s by my side at once. She
runs her fingers through my hair and kisses me on the lips. The
big-nosed guy raises his eyebrows, grins, and tries to get
between us. Stacey shakes her head. We walk away with our
arms around each other’s waists.
“Thanks, you’re turning out to be a great friend already .”
“No problem, sweetie. There’s just something about you
that makes a soft spot in my heart. Besides, I couldn’t bear to
watch you get mauled by Acne Boy .”
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“Did you see his nose?” I laugh.
“Y ou guys have gone public?” asks Wes. “How come I wasn’t
invited?”
“We wouldn’t do anything without you, baby ,” Stacey says.
“We were just trying to get rid of that ugly guy. Where’s
Mark?”
“He’s trying to score,” Pete says as he points toward the
opposite corner of the bar.
Wes hands us drinks. “Thought you’d be thirsty after danc-
ing so much.”
“Is Mikey still playing pool?”
“Y eah, I think Jake is up there with him.”
“I’m going up there,” I say . “Thanks for the beer.”
I push through a crowd to get to the stairs, grip the railing,
and make my way through more people.
Jake is leaning over the pool table, looking at the black ball
with concentration-drenched features.
“Did you put money on this game?” I ask, coming up
behind him.
“No, just a little bet,” Jake says.
There are two striped balls left on the table, and Mikey
looks worried.
“What’s the bet?”
“It’s a secret,” Mikey says. “I think I’m going to lose,
though. Jake’s a pretty good player.”
Jake puts the cue between his fingers and strokes it against
the edge of the table. He pulls the cue back and shoots it
straight at the white ball, which banks off the far side, hits the
black ball, and sends it into the corner pocket.
Jake’s face lights up with his notorious grin. He turns
around and shakes Mikey’s hand.
“Good game,” Mikey says. His face has fallen.
“Shit, you guys take your games seriously.” I attempt to
walk toward a chair, but trip on Stacey’s high heels, feeling my
legs slide out from under me and waiting for the impact of
slamming onto the floor. Mikey’s arm flings out just in time to
catch me.
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“I think I’m drunk,” I say . “What would I do without you?”
Mikey helps me over to the chair.
“Do you want me to take you home? Y ou look a little tired.”
Jake coughs and whacks the butt of the cue on the table.
“No,” I say , grateful for the chair, “I’m fine.”
Mikey turns to Jake. “How about two out of three?”
Jake shakes his head. “No way, buddy, I won this one. We
could bet on something else.”
“Y ou want to take my money now too?”
“No. We could make it more interesting than money .”
“What are you going to bet him, Jake? His truck?”
He chuckles. “No, that wouldn’t be fair.”
“Why don’t we play two out of three?”
“No, Mikey , I won. Y ou can’t get out of this one. Y ou lost.”
Jake digs his finger in Mikey’s chest. “Y ou lost.”
Mikey pushes his arm away . “Fuck you, asshole. Don’t touch
me ever again. I’m leaving.”
He turns and walks away .
“What did you guys bet over? Do you own his soul?” I ask.
“Not quite, but close enough. Aw, he’ll get over it; he’ll find
something else.”
“Y ou can’t just go out and get someone else’s soul. He needs
a soul too.”
Jake looks at me with a twinkle of something in his eye that
I’ve never seen before. “You could say that we were fighting
over the same soul.”
He sits down beside me and places his hand on my leg.
“How about a game?”
“ Actually , I really have to pee. This drinking stuff is a pain in
the ass that way .”
“Okay , but will you give me a kiss before you leave me?”
I kiss Jake on the cheek and walk away with a swing in my
hips.
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62 ››
SEVEN
The bathroom is packed with women: tall women, short
women, big women, little women, smoking women, drinking
women—women who look at me strangely , look at me with a
smile, or pay no attention to me whatsoever. They’re all look-
ing in the mirror. They gob on makeup and gab about sex.
Blah, blah, blah. Don’t they have anything better to talk
about than who grabbed their asses? God, I’m so drunk. What
was that with Jake? He’s never asked for a kiss before. He must
be drunk too. Where am I going to sleep tonight? I can’t go
home; my mom would kill me if she saw me this wasted. I
guess I’ll stay at Wes’s house. I hope he won’t mind. All of
these girls are looking at themselves in the mirror. I should
check my own face. Wow, I look really drunk. I definitely can’t
go home.
I pry myself out of my little space in front of the mirror and
pull the door open. As I walk around the corner from the bath-
room, a large hand grabs my arm and drags me toward the
door. My heart stops.
Duncan. What is he doing here? He’s going to hurt me. What
should I do? I can’t find anyone. Where’s Mikey? Where are
Jake and Wes?
Duncan stops in front of Quake and a group of people. “I’m
just going outside for a minute,” he tells his best friend.
Oh my God. Outside? He’s going to drag me into an alley
and beat me and rape me. I should scream, but my lungs aren’t
working. I’m done.
He drags me outside past the bouncers and around the cor-
ner, then shoves me up against a wall, closing in on me.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Sarah; you’re only
fifteen. And you’re drunk. Are you stoned too? Look at your-
self; you’re dressed like a slut. Are you trying to pick up guys?
Are you trying to get back at me for sleeping with Susan?
What’s your fucking problem?”
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Just play dumb. Now’s not the time to tell him you’re think-
ing of breaking up.
“Duncan, calm down. I just came here to have a good time.
I had a really rough day .”
His face is inches away from mine, spewing rye-flavoured
breath. “You had a rough day? I waited four hours for you to
call me and then I went to your house to see what was wrong.
Iwent to Wes’s apartment to see if you were there. And now I
find you at a bar? Y ou could have at least called me. Y ou aren’t
even old enough to get in here. How did you get in? Do I have
to watch you every second of the day?”
“Wes gave me some ID. Come on, it’s not a big deal. Y ou go
to the bar all the time.”
“I’m old enough,” he screams. “I don’t dress like a little slut,
I don’t come here to pick up guys, and I sure as hell don’t come
here to kiss Jake.”
“What? Why would you kiss—oh. Duncan, it didn’t mean
anything. It was just on the cheek.”
A big, bald bouncer saunters around the corner with his
arms crossed over his chest. “Is everything okay here?”
Duncan’s face transforms. His angry expression disappears
and is replaced by a genuine smile. His body visibly loosens.
“Yeah, we’re fine,” Duncan says in a calm voice. “No prob-
lems here.”
The bouncer nods and walks away .
No, we’re not fine. I’m not fine. I want to go home because
he’s going to hit me.
I want to scream, but instead tears well in my eyes.
Duncan puts his lips close to my ear and begins talking in a
low, menacing voice. “You little whore. You’ve been fucking
him all along, haven’t you. I should show you what it means to
cry , bitch. Don’t you try to get out of this by crying. I should
kill him. I’ll deal with you later.”
He storms around the corner. I stand against the wall shak-
ing, unable to stop crying.
Oh my God, is he going to drag Jake out here and kick the
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shit out of him? He brought all of his friends with him and
they’re probably going to help. I have to tell Jake to watch out.
I stumble toward the bouncers.
The bald one takes hold of my elbow . “ Are you okay?”
I shake my head.
He hands me a cocktail napkin. “Was he bothering you?”
I nod, trying to catch my breath.
“I have to get back inside.”
“Why don’t you just stay out here for a bit and try to sober
up? Come on, wipe away your tears. There are other fish in the
sea.”
I laugh. “It’s not like that; you don’t understand. My friends
are in there. I don’t even want to be with that guy . He’s a liar
and a cheat. And he’s mean. Very , very mean.”
“Well, whatever. If you need to go back in…”
Everyone comes pouring out the door just then, Jake and
Duncan in the lead.
“Shit,” says the bouncer. “We’ve got a fight,” he yells.
“Wes,” hollers another bouncer, “take this one off the pro-
perty .”
Wes nods. He is right behind Jake, along with everyone else.
I run after Duncan, grabbing on to his arm and dragging my
feet, but he pushes me to the ground. In my drunken and con-
fused state I struggle to get up, and then run behind the crowd
to the lot across the street from the bar. I push my way through
the circle of people that has formed around Duncan and Jake.
Stacey puts her hands on my shoulders. Wes, Pete, and Mark
stand behind Jake, ready to step in if Duncan’s friends make a
move. Duncan pushes Jake.
“What the fuck are you doing kissing up on my girlfriend?”
he demands.
He pushes Jake again.
“Fuck you. She wants me, not you.” Jake pushes him back.
Duncan throws the first punch, hitting Jake in the face.
“That’s right, cocksucker. She’s mine and don’t you forget it.”
“Is that all you got, pussy? Come on!”
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All of the sudden they are both throwing their fists. I can’t
tell who’s who, and then Jake is on the ground. Duncan drives
his boot into Jake’s side.
“Can’t kick my ass without the help of your pussy friends,
can you.”
Duncan takes a step back. I break from Stacey’s grip and
kneel beside Jake. Duncan grabs me by the shirt, pulling me to
my feet.
“Where’s the necklace I got for you?”
Before I have a chance to answer, he slaps me in the face.
The force of his hand slams me backward, sending me to the
ground. Duncan turns and begins to walk away .
“Wes, don’t,” Stacey cries.
Wes had grabbed a piece of pipe from a construction site
beside the empty lot and he runs toward Duncan, holding the
weapon like a bat. There is a hollow thunk as he slams the pipe
against Duncan’s back, making him fall to his knees. Duncan’s
friends move toward Wes, but they’re afraid of the crazy look
in his eyes. Pete and Mark are right behind him, daring them
to make the first move. Wes lets the pipe drop and raises his
hands. Quake helps Duncan up, and they all walk back to their
cars without looking at Wes.
“This isn’t over, faggot,” screams Wes.
I sit in the hard dirt not knowing what to do. The crowd
stands around waiting to see what Wes will do next.
He helps Jake off the ground. “Y ou okay , man?”
Jake nods and wipes his nose, pulling back a handful of
blood.
Wes slaps him on the shoulder and crouches down beside
me. “ Are you okay , Sarah?”
Frustrated tears pour from my eyes, rendering me speechless.
“Come on, get up.” He wipes my cheeks and puts a shaking
arm around my shoulder. “He’ll never touch you again.”
“Mikey’s on his way back,” Pete says to Wes. “He won’t be
long. I guess he didn’t drive very far after he left the bar. “
Wes hands me over to Stacey, who cradles me in her arms
and whispers comforting words in my ear.
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“We got your back, Wes,” yells someone from the crowd.
A bouncer crosses the street. I hear him tell Wes that they
haven’t called the cops yet, but the owner might if the crowd
doesn’t disappear.
Mikey jumps out of his truck as it comes to a rolling stop,
not bothering to close the door before he runs to me. He
kneels in front of me so that his eyes are just below the level of
mine and takes my face in his hands.
“Are you okay?” He strokes my red cheek.
I nod.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
I want to shake my head and fall into his arms. I want him
to cradle me against his body , carry me home, and draw me a
bath, but that would be asking too much. Jake needs more
attention than I do; it’s just a little red mark on my face—
nothing I haven’t received from Duncan before.
It’s funny how he still finds a way to hurt me even after I’ve
decided to break up with him.
“I’m fine,” I say , although it sounds unconvincing to me.
My reply seems to be good enough for Mikey , who gets up
and walks over to Wes.
“Let’s go,” I hear.
Everyone piles into the back of Mikey’s truck. Wes takes a
firm hold of my arm and steers me into the front with him and
Stacey . Mikey slaps his palms against the steering wheel.
Wes turns to me. “Where does he live, Sarah?”
“Who?”
“Duncan,” he says flatly .
“Why do you want to know?”
Wes digs his fingers into my side, making sure the others
don’t see. His low, menacing voice could have come from
Duncan’s lips.
“I’m not fucking around here, Sarah. Tell me where he lives
so we can teach him a lesson. Y ou’ve got to let him know that
he can never hit you again, especially in front of a thousand
goddamned witnesses.”
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I wiggle away from his fingers and mumble the address.
“What?” he yells.
I repeat myself louder. Without hesitation, Mikey jumps on
the gas and the tires spin toward Duncan’s house. A few min-
utes later he shuts off the lights and parks just around the
corner from the address I gave Wes.
“Let’s go,” Wes orders me. “Everyone else shut up,” he says,
barely looking back at the crowd. They obey without question.
Wes shoves me up the driveway. “You’re going to ring the
bell and get Duncan outside. I don’t care how you do it. I need
him to step out of his house just enough for me to— I just
need you to get him outside and away from the door.”
For a minute I can only stare at the door I’ve walked through
a thousand times. The lump of fear in my throat turns to
anger, the way sand turns to glass with enough pressure. I step
right up to the door and bang on it with my fist. After a
minute Duncan opens the door. I stumble off the step, needing
to be as far away from him as possible. From the corner of my
eye I catch Wes pull a gun from his waistband, but Duncan’s
face is too distorted with hatred for me to focus on Wes.
Wes thrusts the gun against Duncan’s head. My ex’s arm
lunges toward me, but Wes jams the tip of the barrel harder
into his skull.
“Don’t fucking touch her.”
He leads Duncan around the corner where Mikey waits at
the front of the crowd with a baseball bat. Letting out a wild
cry, the redhead charges toward him. Duncan falls to the
ground for the second time that night. He curls up in a ball
with his hands over his head, crying out in pain with every
blow . Mikey hits him over and over, every sickening thud rush-
ing through my body like an electric charge.
“That should teach you,” Mikey says breathlessly between
swings, “not to hit girls.”
Jake walks up to Duncan, who lies motionless on the pave-
ment, and ponders the situation for a moment. He loudly col-
lects phlegm into his mouth and horks on Duncan’s face.
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“What do you think of my pussy friends now?” He turns,
then reconsiders and whips a parting shot over his shoulder.
“Oh yeah, I fucked her.”
“Jake, what the hell are you trying to do?” I shriek, but he
doesn’t answer, doesn’t even look at me. The subject is forgot-
ten when the crowd moves closer to Duncan.
As though they had drawn straws before the act, Wes steps
up next for his turn. He has no verbal message about violence
against women, only a lesson from his semi-automatic Beretta.
He holds the gun up for the crowd to see, twirling it on one
finger. Then he grabs it by the barrel with his right hand and
puts one knee on the ground next to Duncan. With a smile on
his face, he raises the gun over his head, holding it with both
hands. Before I can yell, he thrusts the gun downward and hits
Duncan. The impact on Duncan’s jaw sends his barely con-
scious body into convulsions. In silent agreement, everyone
else rushes in to get his piece.
A thought comes to me so quickly I can’t stop the laugh. My
English teacher would be proud to see that her anti–violence-
against-women message has reached so many people. And
look how it’s brought everyone together, working toward the
same goal.
I scream for them to stop, afraid they will kill him. No one
even looks up. Then I have another thought.
“Cops,” I scream. “The cops are here.”
The crowd breaks up rapidly and people run in all direc-
tions. Only Mikey, Jake, and Wes are still standing over
Duncan. Stacey watches us from the truck. As a sort of last
rites, Jake hoofs Duncan and Wes nudges him with his foot.
He shoves the gun back into his pants and covers it with his
shirt. I lean over cautiously toward Duncan, afraid to find him
dead but also afraid he will jump up and grab me like the bad
guys in horror movies always do. When there is no response to
my touch I open his eyes. They are glossed over and bloodshot.
I stroke his blood-covered hair as a silent goodbye. Wes grabs
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my arm and pulls me toward the truck. On the way home I use
Mikey’s cell phone to call an ambulance.
“Y ou should have left him to rot,” Stacey spits.
“It doesn’t matter how you left him,” Wes says. “Stick with
me, kid, and you’ll never have to take that shit again.”
After we get back to the apartment I fall asleep curled up
with Stacey on the couch.
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EIGHT
A heavy fist on the door wakes me. Without thinking, I
stumble to my feet and fling it wide open.
“We’re here to bring Wes in,” says a uniformed cop. “We
have a warrant for his arrest.”
I step aside as the three cops barge into the apartment. Two
of the cops are tall and lean; the other is short with a built
frame.
Jake and Mikey lift their heads from the living room floor.
Stacey squeezes her eyes shut.
“Shit,” she mutters under her breath.
The two tall cops storm through the hall and into Wes’s
room; the other heads into the kitchen.
Mocking laughter comes from the other end of the apart-
ment.
“Nice undies,” roars one cop. “Let’s go, Wes, we don’t have
much time here.”
When Wes walks by in handcuffs with the short cop holding
his shoulder, he looks at me, his face full of fear. I have never
seen a glimpse of fear darken his features before, and in the
short time I’ve known him I had come to the conclusion I never
would. This scares me more than Duncan ever has.
“Wes Greenwood, you’re under arrest for assault with a
deadly weapon.”
He doesn’t respond.
“It says in the report that you really whacked some guy’s
face with your gun. Is it registered? I bet it’s not. Where is the
gun, Wes?”
“Under my pillow ,” Wes says with his eyes on the floor.
“How original. You’re afraid someone’s coming to get you
in your sleep?” The short cop chuckles. “Hey, Adams, it’s
under the pillow .”
“Hey, Connor,” yells one of the taller cops, his red head
appearing out of the kitchen doorway . “I was just going into
the freezer to grab a beer and look what I found.”
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He holds up two large Ziploc bags full of pot on either side
of his proud face.
“It’s gotta hurt to have this taken away .” He unbuttons his
shirt and stuffs the bags close to his belly, patting them for
emphasis.
“I hope you get caught,” Stacey mumbles.
He walks over to her, buttoning his shirt along the way.
“Hey there, sweetheart. Y ou want to repeat that?”
She shakes her head.
“’Cuz you know I can charge you with possession if you
want to push it. I thought I’d be nice and let you off. Why
don’t you apologize.”
She shakes her head again and looks at Wes, who nods to
her.
“All right”—the cop reaches around to his handcuff pouch
—“Stacey Wallice…” he begins.
“Sorry ,” she mutters.
He forgets the cuffs and holds his hand to his ear. “What?”
“I’m fucking sorry .”
The redhead chuckles and turns to the short cop, pointing
his thumb over his finger. “What do ya think? Should I accept
that or not?”
The other cop walks toward the front door with Wes’s gun.
“Got it. Let’s go.”
“You’re lucky this time, Stacey, but if you fuck around like
that again there’ll be a nice cosy cell waiting for you right next
to his.”
“Sarah,” Wes pleads, “you’ve got to bail me out.”
I nod, and the short cop slams the door in my face.
Stacey starts screaming.
“I knew this was going to happen. I told that stupid asshole
not to get involved. I knew it.”
She punches the wall and runs into the bedroom, slamming
the door shut behind her. “Godfuckingdamnit!”
“This is all my fault,” I say .
“Sarah, it’s not your fault. Wes knew what he was doing.
Y ou definitely didn’t force him into anything.” Jake sits beside
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me on the couch and places a comforting arm around my
shoulders. “We’ll figure a way to get him out.”
“Duncan’s a real asshole,” Mikey says. “He knew exactly
what he was doing when he charged just Wes.”
“What are you talking about?”
“He knows Wes is a dealer.”
“Wes does what?”
“It’s no big deal,” says Jake. “He just supplies to his
friends.”
“ And he’s a popular guy ,” Mikey adds.
“Oh great, now how are we going to get him out?”
“I told you, Sarah, we will find a way . We always do.”
“He’s been to jail before?”
Jake snorts. “ A few times.”
“He looked scared,” I whisper.
“He hates it there,” Mikey says softly . “It always takes him a
week or so to become his old self again, once he gets out.”
I gesture toward the bedroom. “Is she going to be okay?”
Jake shrugs and Mikey stares at the floor. Knowing what has
to be done, I go to the kitchen and dial the phone. Duncan’s
mother answers.
“Is Duncan there?”
“Oh Sarah, thank God you called. He’s in the hospital.”
I fake a gasp. “What happened?”
“Some hooligan with a gun jumped him last night.”
“What room is he in?”
Jake and Mikey are engaged in a heated discussion in the
living room. They both stop talking when I walk back in.
“What are you guys fighting about?”
“Nothing,” Jake says, the word coming out too fast to be
the truth.
I stare at Mikey , but he looks at the floor.
“Whatever. I’m going to get Wes out of there. Y ou guys can
keep fighting.”
The carpet silences my footsteps as I walk through the front
door and past the chapel. Deeper in the building, the cushy
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floor covering gives way to bright, waxed linoleum. It isn’t
until I walk out of the elevator on the third floor that the hos-
pital smell fills my nose. Sterile equipment mixed with the
faint smell of adult piss and blood-soaked sheets.
Follow the trail of blood.
Quake stands against the wall around the corner. I swear
under my breath.
“Don’t even think about going in there,” he says. “Duncan
just regained consciousness, so he’s got enough to worry about
right now without having to deal with a slut like you.”
“Fuck you, Quake. What does he have to deal with? Is he
afraid someone’s going to kick the shit out of him again
because he ratted Wes out?”
“Is that a threat?”
“I didn’t say anything like that. I was simply asking what he
has to deal with.”
“Don’t play innocent with me. I know what you’re all about.
I’ve been trying to convince Duncan for months, but I think
he’s finally seen it for himself. Y ou’re nothing but a dirty whore
who fucks with people’s minds. Y ou like to see people suffer.”
“Y ou have no idea.”
“I had a girl like you once. She tasted sweet, like a cherry
Life Saver on the tip of my tongue. I have every idea.”
“What the hell is that? Do you want to screw me now, too?
Wanna have a little game of ‘pass around the gorgeous girl you
could never get’?”
“Whore.”
“ Asshole.”
“Leave him alone.”
“Fuck off.” I push past him and walk into the hospital
room.
There are four beds, two of them visibly empty . In another a
weak-looking man in his late twenties watches reruns of
M*A*S*H on a tiny television hanging from the ceiling.
There’s a mound of tissues on his nightstand, along with a
vase full of wilted daisies. The tissues are spotted with bright
red blood. I turn my head and walk toward the window, to a
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bed separated from the room by thin grey curtains. I whip the
curtain out of my way. Duncan is a mass of pulpy, bloody
flesh. One eye is swollen shut and the other is barely open.
There are black, zigzag stitches across his forehead and contin-
uing down his cheek. His cheating accomplice stands over him,
stroking his hair like I had done not more than twenty-four
hours ago.
“Hey , Tits, why don’t you go find yourself a doctor’s dick to
suck?” I nod my head toward the door. She looks at Duncan,
who groans in agreement. She takes her time, fussing with his
pillows and rearranging the flowers that she must have
brought.
“Let’s go, Slut, I have some adult things to discuss with
Scarface here. ”
She once again looks to Duncan for a sign.
“What are you waiting for? He obviously can’t talk with
those cracked lips. I need to speak to him alone. Do you speak
English?”
Duncan points toward the door.
“Y eah, that’s right. Out.”
I pull the curtain tight and sit down near the foot of his bed.
“You look so harmless,” I croon. “Just like a little pussycat
that’s been hit by a car.”
He shoots me a dirty look from his one good eye.
“Oh, so scary . There’s the Duncan I know . Does it hurt?”
He looks away .
I stand up and grab his chin, putting just enough pressure on
the cracked jaw to make him uncomfortable. “Look at me, you
waste of a human being. Do you see the black eye? How about
the bruise on my cheek? You did this to yourself. Hitting
women isn’t a good thing, Duncan. It can get a person thrown
in jail.”
I pick up a carnation and twirl it around in my fingers.
“Remember the first time you got me flowers? It was a rainy
afternoon sometime before we officially got together. I was sit-
ting in my classroom doodling your name in my binder. The
teacher was in the middle of some rant about World War II
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when there was a knock on the door. And there you were,
soaked to the bone, standing in front of the class. Y ou walked
down the aisle to my seat, kissed my hand, and presented me
with the flowers like they were made of gold. I still remember
what the card said: ‘Just wanted to put some sunshine in your
rainy day .’ Everyone thought I was so lucky .”
I snort. “What do a bunch of fifteen-year-olds know any-
way? I sure as hell didn’t know any better. But I do now . I know
you thought charging Wes would send me straight over here,
and the sight of your broken body would make me melt back
in your arms. Y our body does nothing for me except make me
want to puke.”
We stare at each other. He seems to be searching for the
cause of my newfound attitude, but I’m not willing to give him
any more information about myself.
“Drop the charges,” I say in a tone that is meant to prove
I’m not going to back down.
“Forget it,” he croaks.
“Oh, you talk. Listen to me carefully, you ball-less piece of
shit.” I wait for his full attention. “If you don’t drop those
charges, I’ll charge you with assault.”
I don’t move my eyes from his glassy gaze.
“I’ve already told the cops it was him, Sarah. It’s out of my
hands now .”
“There were two hundred witnesses last night, Duncan. This
shiner will show up real well on film.”
He stares at me with a blank expression, waiting.
“Do you think I’m bluffing?”
“ All right,” Duncan says. “I’ll take care of it.”
I glance over my shoulder as I walk through the curtain. “If
you didn’t already know , we’re through.”
I walk past Duncan’s shocked mother on the way out; she
stares at my face searching for evidence. For emphasis I jut out
my chin, giving her a good look at her son’s work. Around the
corner, I give Quake the finger and a Jake-like grin. He walks
toward Duncan’s room, no doubt anxious to hear about our
encounter.
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Confident that my plan will get Wes out of jail, I practically
float down the hall toward the elevator. The tables have turned
now, Duncan. I am out of your grip forever , thanks to my new
friends.
The old elevator lurches to a stop on the ground floor, send-
ing my stomach into a flip-flop, which makes me think of what
may be in there. My elation instantly deflates as fears of
Duncan’s seed growing in my belly rise to my throat.
Out of my life, but forever connected.
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NINE
The phone is ringing when I walk through Wes’s door. It’s
Wes.
“So?” he asks in a small voice.
“We’re good to go. Duncan agreed to drop the charges, and
I have a feeling his mom is clearing things up right now. How
does this work? Can we pick you up soon?”
“It’s not that simple, Sarah. They can still use that gun
against me.”
“I forgot. Do we need to get bail money?”
“Probably .”
“How much?”
“Depends on the judge. Is Mikey there?”
“Actually , there’s a note taped to the fridge that says they’ll
be right back.”
Wes sighs.
“We’ll work things out. I’ll get the money somehow .”
“I gotta go. Thanks.”
“No problem.”
There’s a noise coming from the bedroom. It’s Stacey , balled
up on her bed.
“Stace?” I sit on the mattress. “Hey , everything’s going to be
okay . I just convinced Duncan to drop the charges.”
“How did you do that?”
“Blackmail.”
“Look what he’s got you into. Little Sarah, you used to be so
sweet. I could kill both of them.”
“Wes didn’t do anything to me. I thought of this all by
myself.”
“He got you into this mess.”
“Stacey , he got me out of it. If it weren’t for Wes I’d still be
with Duncan.”
“Wes did the same for me and look where I am. You don’t
want to turn out like me.”
“Where you are is with a guy who loves you.”
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“And that’s all I am: a girlfriend. There is no Stacey any-
more. I can’t even tell you when it happened; I just woke up
one day and poof, she was gone.”
“Y ou’re mad at him for ending up in jail, aren’t you.”
“Of course I am. I’m so sick of his shit. He keeps telling me
he’s tired of jail. I know he hates it there, but he keeps going
back.” Stacey sits up and lights a smoke. “It’s not even that,
though. I really feel like I’ve given up on myself. My whole life
is about Wes. What do I have if we ever split up?”
“Don’t say that, you guys will get married one day .”
She pushes the smoke out with her tongue and stubs the cig-
arette in an ashtray . “But what if it’s not what I want? There
are so many things I want to try . Sarah, I honestly don’t even
know if I want to be with a guy .”
“Wes seems to be okay with that. After all, he tried to set us
up.”
“See,” she cries. “That’s it right there. Wes tried to set us up
and he did it only so he could be a part of it.”
“Are you saying you wouldn’t pick me for yourself?”
“No, I never said that. You’re beautiful.” She touches my
cheek. “I wanted the chance to do it myself, that’s all. Just
because Wes knows my taste doesn’t mean he has the right to
shove it in my face.”
“I was shoved in your face?”
“You are misunderstanding me here. You aren’t getting the
point.”
Suddenly my face is close to Stacey’s and I’m kissing her.
Her tongue is gentle and warm as it swirls around mine. Her
soft skin brushes against my bare arm, sending a rush of blood
to my heart.
“I get it,” I say once our lips have parted. “I think you are
beautiful too.”
“Do you feel uncomfortable kissing me, Sarah? Are you a
lesbian?”
“I don’t think so. Are you?”
“I’m not sure. I never really got a chance to explore. Maybe
I’m bisexual.”
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“You should look into that. It’s not something that will go
away if you ignore it.”
“There’s not a thing that does.”
“I know . Now I know . And I’ll tell you something, I’m single
and I have those same feelings. I don’t know who I am. Some-
times I don’t think there’s ever been a me.”
“Y ou need to find out. We’ll help each other. Maybe I can do
this and stay with Wes if you help me. I really do love him.”
“He’s a great guy . What do we need to do to get him out of
there?”
“It’s complicated. The bail hearing is usually the day after
the arrest, then we have to call his aunt to act as a surety for
him. But that’s tricky because she doesn’t have any money . We
have to find the money ourselves.”
“A surety?”
“Oh, it’s just the person that’s responsible for him—you
know, to get him to his court dates and keep him out of trou-
ble while he’s out on bail. Y ou’ll see tomorrow .”
“Doesn’t Wes have money saved up somewhere? He should
be rich.”
“Rich? Look where we live.”
“I know , but Jake told me he was a drug dealer.”
“He always has it, so he supplies his friends, that’s all.”
“I can see if I can get some money from my parents.” It
comes out softly , almost a whisper.
“Y ou don’t have to do that. We always find the money some-
how .”
“It’s my fault Wes is in there. I really want to do this.”
“Y ou don’t have to.”
“It’s okay .”
The house reeks of Jack Daniel’s. He must have had a hard day
at work. The door clicks behind me and they’re on me like a
pack of wild dogs.
“Sarah.” My dad’s voice booms from the kitchen. “Is that
you?”
“Y es.”
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“Honey , where have you been? We’ve been so worried.”
My mom’s jaw drops when I walk into the room. “Oh my
God, what happened to you?”
I had forgotten about the black eye until I see the looks on
my parents’ faces.
“I was just fooling around with my friend and landed on the
coffee table.”
She rises from the chair and brushes the hair from my face.
“It looks horrible. Did you go to the hospital?”
“Y ou don’t go to the hospital for a black eye, Doris.”
My father turns to look at me. His eyes are bloodshot, but
his voice is stern.
“Where have you been? Look what you’ve done to your
mother by not calling or coming home.”
“I’m sorry, Mom, I never meant for you to worry. There’s
just been so much happening lately , I lost track of everything.
It won’t happen again.”
“Are you staying for dinner?”
“No, I just came to get some stuff and to ask you for a
favour.”
“What kind of favour?” Dad asks.
I take a deep breath. “I need money .”
“Are you in trouble, honey?”
“No, Mom. I just need money .”
“How much?”
“I’m not sure.”
My dad walks from the room, drink in hand, without a
word.
“Sweetie, are you sure everything’s okay?”
“Y es, I promise. I think I’m going to stay with my friend for
a while, though. She’s going through a rough time and I want
to be there for her.”
“Boy troubles?”
I laugh.
“Sweetheart, you know you can talk to me about anything.”
“I know , Mom, you’re a good friend. There’s nothing to talk
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about, though. It’s just my friend. She needs all the help she
can get.”
“Okay , I understand. I’ll go pack a bag for you.”
“Thanks.”
Dad comes back into the kitchen with a cheque book.
“I trust you’ll use this wisely ,” he says, handing me a blank
cheque.
“What’s the limit, Dad?”
“Whatever you need. What are fathers for?” He places the
cheque in my hand and quickly shoves a credit card toward me.
“Don’t tell your mother I gave you the card. Just use it.”
“Thanks, Dad. I’m going to stay at my friend’s house for a
while. Mom said it was okay .”
“Whatever she said.”
Mom walks into the room, hands me a bag, and kisses my
forehead.
“Good luck.”
“I’ll call,” I say .
The fresh air burns the stench of liquor from my nostrils. I
unzip the bag to place the card inside. Mom has put a wad of
cash in the corner with a note scribbled in her neat hand-
writing.
Sarah:
I can barely remember what it’s like to be a teenager,
but I know it’s a turbulent time in one’s life. Just
wanted to let you know that we are here for you.
Whatever you need, we will give you. We love you.
Love, Mom
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TEN
Stacey is sitting on the couch when I get back to the apart-
ment.
“Y ou okay?”
“I guess. I called his aunt and she said she’d do it, though I
was never worried she wouldn’t. We just have to hope the
judge doesn’t bring up the fact that she’s acted as a surety for
Wes all of the times before and he’s still in and out of jail. Did
you get the money?”
I produce the blank cheque.
“Wow , your parents must really trust you.”
“More like they want me to get out of their hair. They
bought some stupid story about my eye. Sometimes I feel like
they don’t care.” I take a smoke from Stacey’s pack. “Hey , do
you mind if I stay here for a while? I could sleep on the couch.”
“Sure, stay as long as you want. I’m sure Wes won’t mind.
He’ll be too grateful for your bail money to say anything.”
“I slept with Duncan.”
“What?”
“Yeah, it happened right before he slammed his fist into my
face.”
“It’ll go away soon,” she says, sweeping my hair over my
shoulder.
“ And just after I almost slept with Jake.”
“Ew. Are you serious? I thought you just wanted Duncan to
think you guys had sex. What do you see in Jake?”
I shrug. “It was a moment of passion. There was something
so needy about him at the time. Don’t you ever see a need in
someone and want to fill it up?”
“Y eah, I guess.”
“The worst part is we didn’t use a condom.”
“Are you on the pill?”
I shake my head.
“Y ou’ll have to go to the clinic and get tested.”
“I’m scared. What if I’m pregnant?”
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“What’ll you do if you are?”
“I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.”
“I would keep it.”
“Will you come with me to get tested?”
“Of course I will.”
“Thanks, Stace. I know we haven’t known each other for
that long, but I feel so close to you already .”
“Me too. I haven’t had many girlfriends.”
“Me neither.”
“We can be there for each other through everything.”
“Everything.”
The next morning Mikey drops us off at the courthouse on his
way to school. We shuffle to the back row of seats in the small
courtroom. There is a desk facing the judge’s bench at the
front of the room. To the right is an enclosure that resembles
the penalty box at a hockey rink.
The judge tells the bailiff to get the first guy on the list, and
he disappears through a door on the right side of the room.
She goes through seven people, mostly older men charged with
domestic violence, before getting to Wes. His aunt walks into
the room just as the judge calls his name.
He walks in with his head down and hands in cuffs, fol-
lowed by the bailiff. He’s ushered into the box, where he stands
with his shoulders slumped. He glances back to check for our
presence. The judge asks him to spell his name and give his
address.
“Please read the charges,” she says.
“One count assault with a deadly weapon and one count
possession of an unregistered weapon.”
The judge’s assistant continues by reading his priors:
assaults, drugs, and weapons.
“Those are some serious charges, Mr. Greenwood. How are
you pleading?”
“Not guilty ,” cuts in the lawyer. “The assault charges are in
the process of being quashed right now .”
“ And the gun?”
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“If there’s no assault charge, there is no gun.”
“Does your client have someone to act as a surety?”
“Y es, Y our Honour, his aunt.”
She asks his aunt to step forward and spell her name and
state her address. The judge asks her if she’s willing to post
bail and be responsible for Wes while he’s out on bail.
“Y es.”
Then she asks all sorts of other questions to determine
whether or not the aunt would be able to handle him if he got
out, including questions about her past responsibilities as his
surety .
“Now, Mr. Greenwood, the last time you were here you told
me you were finished with this business, but here you are
again. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I’m sorry , Y our Honour.”
Her eyes flicker toward me.
“All right. Last time you were here I gave you a break on
bail. This time I need two thousand dollars.”
The judge’s assistant reads the conditions of his bail, which
include a curfew and no guns or other weapons. She tells his
aunt that she’ll have to wait until the paperwork is done and
then she can pay and take Wes into her custody .
I follow Stacey and Wes’s aunt outside, where we wait smok-
ing cigarettes.
“I thought she was going to be harder on him than that,”
says Stacey .
“How much harder could she have been than two thou-
sand?” says his aunt. “I’ve seen fucking murderers get out on
less.”
Stacey ignores his aunt. “Y ou don’t know what this means to
me, Sarah.”
I shrug and take a drag from my smoke. We walk back into
the courthouse to hand over some of the money I have taken
from my father’s account. Wes’s aunt fills out paperwork and
we go back outside to wait again. The back door opens and
there is Wes, looking free. Stacey throws her cigarette on the
ground and runs to him, wrapping her legs around his waist.
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They kiss with open mouths and no embarrassment of their
passion for each other. Wes breaks away from the embrace and
walks toward me, Stacey’s hand in his. He drops her hand for a
split second to grab my shoulders.
“Thank you so much. I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.”
I shrug, feeling a sickness in my throat as I watch the two of
them in lovers’ bliss. My thoughts turn to my uterus, which
might be stowing an embryo—or an infection.
When we get back to the apartment there’s an SUV in the
driveway .
“Shit,” Wes says. “Stace, take Sarah for a walk and don’t
come back until he’s gone.”
“No, Wes. Y ou know what he wants.”
“Y eah, and he won’t leave until he gets it. Now go.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’ll handle it. Just go, get out of here. I don’t want to see
your face until he’s gone.”
She watches him walk through the door, then turns to me.
“Let’s just go around the corner. I don’t want to go too far, just
in case.”
“In case what? What’s going on?”
“That’s his supplier.”
“What does he want?”
“The money for the drugs that were taken by the cops.”
“But Wes doesn’t have the money .”
“You’re brilliant.” She stops walking. “Sorry. I’m scared,
that’s all.”
“What’s the supplier going to do?”
“I don’t know . He won’t be too happy , that’s for sure.”
“I thought you said Wes only supplies to his friends.”
She shrugs. “He’s got a lot of friends.”
We peer through some nice old lady’s hedges until the SUV
pulls out of the driveway .
Stacey takes the steps two at a time up to the apartment,
where Wes is slumped on the couch with a bottle of tequila.
“What did he do?”
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He holds out his hand, showing us a swollen, and yet some-
how flatter than it should be, purple thumb that’s bleeding
from what’s left of his nail.
“Oh my God. What did he do?”
He laughs and takes a swig from the bottle. “He smashed it
with a hammer. Y ou could say I’m lucky—at least, that’s what
he said. I could be dead. This time he brought a hammer, next
time it’ll be a gun. Kinda like the one I still owed him money
for.”
Stacey picks up one of the glasses from the cardboard coffee
table and hurls it at the wall just above Wes’s head.
“You stupid goddamned moron. This isn’t even enough to
get you out of dealing, is it. I hate you so fucking much. This is
it, I’m not lying this time. Y ou’ll see.”
She storms out of the room.
Wes looks at me. “Would you be a sweetheart and roll me a
joint? My thumb’s kind of out of order right now or I’d do it
myself.”
“Is it broken? Maybe we should take you to the hospital.”
“Naw, it’ll be fine.” He nods toward a garbage bag in the
corner of the room.
I open it and find three large Ziploc bags filled with white
powder.
“Underneath,” he says.
It’s full of pot. I grab a paper and begin to pack it with
weed.
“He gave me a bit more than usual this time. I have to up my
prices to make up for the stuff the pigs got. My cut just keeps
getting smaller. Maybe I should get a job at McDonald’s.”
I put the joint to his lips and he inhales greedily , washing it
down with tequila.
“I was so stupid to put that weed in the freezer. They’d never
have found it in my other hiding spots.”
I take a long drag. He points the bottle my way and grunts.
The liquid burns my throat, and I breathe out loudly .
“Good, eh?”
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I nod. “How’d you get into this shit anyway?”
“The same way everyone else did: I just fell into it. This isn’t
what I was planning to do with the rest of my life, you know .”
“What did you want to do with your life?”
“I don’t know .” He laughs.
I feed him more pot.
“Y ou know , this isn’t as bad a living as people make it out to
be. I mean, sure, there are the hazards”—he holds up his
thumb—“but there are good things too. I’m a businessman—
pretty much make the decisions. Well, not all the time, but for
example, just recently I was pushing speed. I got to tell those
motherfuckers that it wouldn’t work anymore because the kids
I sold to wouldn’t pay up and the clientele was constantly
changing—that can get dangerous for me and everyone else
involved. So, I got to make that decision. As a matter of fact, I
popped the last of that crap the night I met you at the party .”
He motions for me to put the joint against his lips again.
“I’ll sell almost anything they can get to me. A few years ago
everyone in this shit town was into acid. Man, that made me
some major dough. Five bucks a hit and I got a sheet of one
hundred for fifty . I made mad cash in those days, but acid was
mostly a fad that everyone just got out of.”
“Y ou don’t make that kind of money anymore?”
“No. Pot is the staple of any dealer; it’s like flour or eggs or
something, and you never make much money on those, ’cuz
you have to undercut every joe-fucking-dickhead who can steal
pot from their dad’s coffee can and sell it to their friends. Oh, I
hate those high school dope dealers—those bastards who think
it’s cool to be the centre of attention. They don’t know how to
keep their fat mouths shut, and when one of them goes to jail,
the pigs get a little closer to guys like me. But every business
has gotta have a staple. Right now I’m starting something new ,
so I have no idea how it’ll work out, but there’s been some
demand for it, so it shouldn’t be a problem to get rid of what
I’ve got, anyway .”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk this much.”
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Wes snaps his head back to snort a mouthful of tequila and
holds the bottle in the air. “Must be this stuff. I’ve been staying
away from it for a while, so I guess it has an effect on me
again.”
He jerks his head toward the corner of the living room. “I
take it that bag is yours?”
I nod.
“Y ou planning on staying for a while?”
“I’m not sure.”
“What’s the deal, Sarah? Don’t you have any parents?”
“They just don’t care.”
He nods and drinks from the bottle. “Light me a smoke?”
“Maybe you should go in and talk to Stace.”
“No, she’s too pissed at me right now .”
We sit in silence for a while.
“Y ou really like Stacey , huh?” he says.
“Y eah, she’s great.”
“Y eah, she’s a good kid.”
As promised, the assault charges against Wes are dropped
but the gun charges stand. The lawyer provided to Wes for free
by the court assures him that he’ll get the charges dropped
before the next court date, but Wes is afraid the charges will
stick. 
For the next week I can’t think of anything but getting my
period. Finally I get the courage to go to the clinic. The doctor
refuses to give me a pregnancy test, saying it’s a waste of time
until I’ve missed a bleeding. But he swabs my cervix and drains
my veins. He tells me to be more careful next time, offers to
put me on the pill, and gives me a handful of condoms. He
says the HIV test results will be phoned to me within a week,
but I won’t get a call on the other tests unless they are positive.
I sit in the apartment for a week waiting for the phone to ring.
Every time Wes’s pager beeps I jump off the couch. Finally it
rings.
“Hello?”
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“Sarah?”
“Oh, hi, Mom. How are you?”
“The school called. They said you haven’t been there for
almost two weeks now. Is everything okay? You know exams
are coming soon and you don’t want to fail.”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve just been so busy with my friend lately .
She’s going through a lot of stuff right now. I’ll deal with
school. Maybe they’ll still let me take the exams even though
I’ve missed so many classes.”
“I’ll call them and ask.”
“Y ou don’t have to do that; I can take care of it.”
“Okay, whatever you want. I’m just so worried about you,
and I haven’t seen you in ages.”
“It hasn’t been that long. I’ll come visit you sometime.”
“Have you moved out, then?”
“I don’t know. Just don’t expect me back anytime soon.
How’s Dad?”
“He’s under a lot of pressure from work. They’re planning
some big takeover right now. Oh, that’s top secret, so hush-
hush.”
“Sure. Listen, I should go now. I don’t want to tie up the
line.”
“All right. I love you, sweetheart. You know you can come
back whenever you want.”
“Thanks, Mom. Love you too.”
As I place the receiver into its cradle, the phone rings again.
“Hello?”
“Sarah?”
“Y es?”
“This is Janet from the clinic. We have the results of your
HIV test.”
“ And?”
“They are negative.”
“What about the other tests?”
“No news is good news.”
“Thank you.”
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“Have a good day .”
I hang up the phone and yell to Stacey .
“Hey , it’s negative.”
She walks into the kitchen.
“That’s awesome. What about your period?”
“It hasn’t come yet and I’m getting nervous; it’s a week
late.”
“Don’t worry too much. Stress effects your cycle, you know,
and you’ve definitely been under a lot of stress lately .”
“I hope that’s what it is.”
“I’m sure of it.”
“Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask why there’s nothing in the
medicine cabinet.”
“Oh, I just stopped putting my stuff in there after the pigs
threw it all over the place over and over again. They kept
breaking shit, and it was always a big mess to clean up.”
I look at her sideways.
“The medicine cabinet is the first place they always look,
though only God knows why. It’s not like there are ever any
drugs in there.”
“Is it okay if I put my stuff in there?”
“Sure, if you want to clean up the mess every time those ass-
holes raid the place for no good reason.”
“I don’t mind. Besides, I don’t really have anywhere else to
put my stuff.”
Stacey shrugs.
“Have you and Wes totally made up yet?”
“Y eah, I can’t stay mad at him for too long. I just wish there
was some way I could get him to stop selling drugs. Everything
we do is about drugs. We can’t even go shopping for a pair of
jeans without getting into a discussion about his lifestyle. He
needs to find a pair that will hold his gun snugly against his
waist. And we never have any privacy because there’s always so
many people walking through here at all hours of the day and
night, not to mention the way the police harass us almost every
day .”
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“Why does he do it?”
“He doesn’t think he can do anything else.”
“He has a self-esteem problem.”
“Who doesn’t?”
The next morning I wake up in my sleeping bag feeling like I
have wet myself. I jump up to look at my pyjama pants and
find they’re soaked with blood. There is a large circle of blood
on my sleeping bag, and some has even seeped onto the couch.
I’ve never been so happy in my life. My screams bring Wes and
Stacey running. She surveys the situation and joins me dancing
and laughing in the middle of the room. Wes shakes his head
and goes back to bed, mumbling something about cleaning up
that mess.
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ELEVEN
All the events of that spring and summer flashed through my
mind as I sat on the toilet in that apartment that seemed to
have changed so little over seven years. I stood up to stretch my
legs and look out the small window. I remembered how I had
forgotten all about school and exams and instead concentrated
on getting my driver’s licence. Mom didn’t say a word about
my flunking. I forced Stacey and Mikey to help me study for
the test. The image of driving alone in a car with the wind in
my hair drove me to study constantly . The end of that summer
brought my sixteenth birthday and my G1 licence.
Mikey is still waiting in his truck when I walk through the
doors. The smile on my face gives away the test results.
He gets out of the driver’s seat and hands me the keys.
“Are you serious?”
He nods.
I hug Mikey quickly and jump in. The wheel is smooth
beneath my palms. I glide my hands over the plastic ring. The
power and promise pulse under my feet the way the music at
the bar pulses through my body . I grasp the shifter knob as I
wait for Mikey to get in the passenger seat.
“Keep your foot on the brake until you’re in the right gear,
then slowly press the gas. If you jam your foot on the gas right
away you’ll jerk ahead. And always watch how the wheels are
turned before you start to go anywhere.”
I turn the key, feeling my heart jump at the sound of the
engine. My feet are on the clutch and brake as I put the truck
into reverse. I look at Mikey for the go-ahead, then step lightly
on the gas, letting the clutch out slowly. I creep out of the
parking space, but the truck lurches and then chugs backward
and stalls. It takes three tries before I’m successful at switching
into first. With a big grin, I pull onto the road and head for less
populated streets.
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“Y ou can go faster than that,” Mikey says.
I grip the steering wheel hard enough for my fingers to
cramp, and tromp on the gas. The wind lifts my hair up and
out the window .
“How do you know when to change gears?”
“Right now would be good.”
The gears grind as I try to find second.
“Y ou have to watch the tach and listen to the truck. Eventu-
ally you’ll just know when to change gears.” Mikey stops look-
ing at me long enough to crank the music up, then turns back,
staring with his eyes wide and his smile knowing. I throw my
head back and laugh.
When we get back to the house, Stacey and the boys have a
celebratory joint waiting for me. Before long, people I don’t
know start arriving with their own beer.
Jake slides next to me on the couch and puts an arm over my
shoulders.
“Happy birthday . I’m glad you got rid of Duncan.”
“Oh yeah, why’s that?”
“I told you from the beginning that you could do better.”
I roll my eyes. “Thanks for the ‘I told you so.’”
“Hey, that’s not what this is about. I was thinking more
along the lines of us.”
“What about us, Jake?”
“I thought we could pick up where we left off.”
“I’m not going to have sex with you.”
“That hurts my feelings, baby . I’m not looking for a quick
screw .”
“So what is it that you’re looking for?”
“I want to get together. We’d make a great couple, like
Bonnie and Clyde or Mickey and Mallory .”
“I’m not looking for a relationship right now, I just got out
of one. I want to be free and have some fun.”
“Okay , what about in the future?”
“What makes you think we’d be good together?”
“I don’t know . I just do.”
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“Y ou know what, Jake? I don’t think it would work.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know . I just don’t.”
“So it’s like that, then, huh? Y ou wanted to jump on my cock
two minutes ago.”
“See? That’s why right there. Y ou’re too full of yourself and
I’m not into that anymore.”
“Y ou don’t have to get personal.”
“I just don’t want to.”
“Fine, I get it. I guess we didn’t have a choice after all.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Forget it. It was great seeing you again, Sarah.”
“Y eah, you too, Jake.”
As he walks away , Stacey wanders over with a beer in hand.
“What was that all about?”
“What is it ever about with Jake? He wanted to get into my
pants. No, wait. He doesn’t want a quick screw, he wanted to
get together.”
“Ew . Why doesn’t he just leave you alone?”
“He probably will now . I turned him down cold. Are we hav-
ing a party or what?”
“Of course, babe, it’s your birthday .” She kisses me on the
lips and we dance the night away .
The next morning I wake up naked on the couch beside a com-
plete stranger. I make a fist and punch him in the shoulder. He
opens his eyes, smiles, and rubs my leg, then closes his eyes
again. I punch him harder.
“Hey, cutie, I thought all the roughness was over with last
night. You up for one more? I got a huge piss boner and an-
other condom in the pocket of my jeans.”
“Who are you?”
“Ed, remember, baby? Oh, sorry, maybe I didn’t introduce
myself last night.” He extends his hand.
I push him off the couch and step over his body, which is
heaving with laughter. No one else is in the living room, so I
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turn my back to Ed and get dressed.Wes stands at the kitchen
counter rolling a joint.
“How do you know Ed?” I ask with my hand on my hip.
“Who?”
“Tall, skinny guy with a tattoo of a naked chick on his
arm.”
“Oh, Ed. He’s just a guy that buys dope off me.”
“Jesus Christ. I think I slept with him. Oh my God. I can’t
believe this happened. Where is everyone? Where are Mikey
and Stace?”
“Calm down, will ya?” He hands me the joint. “Take a load
off.”
I hesitate for a second before I take it and hold it gently
between my lips.
I turned away from the bathroom window and shut my eyes.
After that toke nothing mattered, and there was no turning
back. A morning joint with Wes became a ritual, and so did
fucking almost every guy that came over to buy drugs from
him. When I was stoned or drunk I just didn’t care. And things
got worse after my dad disowned me. My memories of the
next six months weren’t complete, but I wasn’t sure whether
that was because of the drugs or because I just didn’t want to
remember.
About three weeks after my sixteenth birthday , I sit in the liv-
ing room rolling joints with Stacey .
“Y ou remember that guy I went home with last night?”
She doesn’t look up, but nods.
“Well, he forgot to tell me he lives with his parents. We were
right in the middle of screwing when his poor mom walked
in.”
“That must have been embarrassing.”
“Not as much as making small talk with her this morning as
he asked his dad for the keys to the car so he could drive me
home.” I breathe in the rich smoke. “She looked familiar too.”
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“You’ll probably remember who she is when you run into
her at Mike’s Mart at three in the morning, stoned out of your
face.”
That evening I ask Mikey to drive me to my parents’ house
to pick up a few things. My dad jumps down my throat as
soon as I walk through the door.
“Are you trying to make me look like a complete idiot?”
“What?”
“What are you doing with your life? Do you have any—” He
stops and looks at me closely . “ Are you stoned?”
“No,” I lie.
“Have you been dating this Jon guy?”
“Who?”
“That’s what I thought. I received a phone call at the office
this morning from Mrs. Scott, who says she walked in on her
son and my daughter having sex.” He spits the last word at
me, as though it were too vile to even cross his lips.
I have no idea what to say .
“Y ou are a whore, and I want you out of my house. I never
want to see you again.”
“But, Dad!”
“Whore.” He jabs a finger toward me.
The disgust on my dad’s face makes me want to cry, but I
swallow my tears and anger rushes through my veins.
“Ha, if you only knew what I was doing and with how many
men. I love sex. I fuck every guy I see. I am a fuck machine.”
“Get out. Don’t call and don’t come back. I never want to
see your dirty face again.” He raises his hand to hit me, then
scrunches up his face and turns away .
I run to my room, shove everything I can fit into the only
two bags I can find, then run out the door.
“By the way ,” I scream as I leave, “I am stoned!”
“Get me out of here,” I say to Mikey, slamming the truck
door. I search under the seat for the familiar flask.
“What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing.” But the tears give me away. “I just need a lot
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of beer.” I yell out the window, “And someone’s big, hard
cock.”
Mikey pulls over. “What was that all about?”
My sobs prevent me from talking, but not from drinking.
The gin pools at the bottom of my stomach. Finally subdued, I
let the words fall out of my mouth.
“He hates me. He thinks I’m a whore and he never wants to
see me again.”
“Who, your dad?”
I nod, feeling the sobs crawl back up my throat.
“I’m sure he doesn’t think that.”
“He told me so. He called me a whore and he said he never
wanted to see me again.”
“It’s okay , Sarah; don’t cry . We’ll get through this.”
“How can I get through not having a father? Oh God, I
don’t have a dad. How can he do this to me?”
Mikey stares out the windshield.
“I’m not a bad person, am I?”
“I don’t think so, and I think your dad is a bastard for mak-
ing you think you are. I’d like to kill him.”
“Talking like that doesn’t help me at all. I just want my dad
back.”
I light a smoke and drink more gin. The piney flavour
reminds me of cleaning solution.
“It would be nice to eat my guts out with some Pine-Sol
right now .”
“Now you’re talking crazy . Don’t let your dad take your life
away . Y ou are a good person and I’ll help you prove it.”
“How can you say that? Do you have any idea how many
guys I’ve fucked in the past three weeks? I didn’t even know
some of their names. I just get high and drunk and fuck the
first guy who walks into the room. I am a whore.”
“Y ou aren’t, no matter what your dad thinks. So you’ve slept
with a few guys. That doesn’t make you a bad person.”
“He disowned me. Just like that, like I was never anything to
him in the first place. I used to be his little girl. He used to
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bring me back a present every time he came home from a
business trip. He told me he was thinking about me the whole
time—that he couldn’t wait to get home so he could hug me
again. Where’d that guy go?”
I begin to sob again.
“He hates me because I slept with one guy . He has no idea
how many guys I’ve slept with. Imagine what he would do if he
knew the truth. I am a total whore.”
“Don’t talk about yourself that way .”
“He hates me. Have I really changed that much? How can I
have become such a different person in such a short time? I
thought parents were supposed to love you, no matter what.”
“Some don’t, but that’s why people have friends to help
them through life. Don’t worry, Sarah, I will be there for you
always.”
“Really?”
“Y eah. Y ou can count on me.”
Steve walks into the apartment late that night without knock-
ing.
“The cops are outside again,” he says.
I poke my head up over the windowsill just enough to see
the marked cruiser sitting across the street.
“Fucking pigs.” Wes sticks his middle finger out the window .
“Don’t they have anything better to do?”
He motions for Steve to follow him into his room, where
Stacey lies sleeping. When they come back, Steve plops himself
on the couch next to me and winks.
“Wanna blow a big hoolie?”
“Only if you don’t ever say hoolie again.”
“Why , what’s wrong with hoolie?”
“It’s something a third grader would call a joint. It’s a joint.
Sometimes you can even say doobie, but never hoolie, okay?”
He shrugs. “Whatever.”
As Wes rolls the joint, Steve throws his arm not-so-
nonchalantly over the back of the couch, brushing my shoul-
der not-so-absent-mindedly .
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“I’m not leaving this place with a big wad of ganja. Talk
about a heat score.”
“You can stay here tonight and sleep on the couch,” says
Wes.
I clear my throat. “That’s where I sleep.”
Wes shrugs, hands me a joint, and goes to the kitchen.
“What’s your name, cutie-pie?”
“It’s Sarah.”
“That’s nice. I’m Steve.”
“Y eah, I know .”
“How’s that?”
“It’s on your jacket.”
“Oh.”
Wes comes back with three glasses and a bottle of rye. He
pours a full glass for himself and me and a half-glass for Steve.
“Are you going to hog that hoolie all night?”
“No, here, take a drag from this joint.”
He reaches for it and turns to Wes. “This one’s feisty , eh?”
“She sure is.”
As soon as the liquor and weed have slurred my speech and
vision, Wes leaves the room.
“So, pretty lady , I guess it’s just you and me.”
“Looks like.”
“Y ou make me hot.”
“Oh, I do, do I?”
“There’s just something about you.” He brushes his hand
against my neck.
I run my finger up his thigh. “Y eah?”
Steve grabs the back of my head and pulls me in for a
sloppy , wet kiss. I wipe my mouth and he breathes hard in my
ear.
“Oh yeah.” He reaches for my belt buckle, but I pull away,
twisting myself around to stand in front of him, swaying my
hips.
“What is it about me?”
“Y ou’re so damned hot.” He grabs at my breasts and I step
back, reach for the bottle of rye, and sway deeper.
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“What’s hot?” I laugh as I take a swig from the bottle, throw
my face toward the ceiling and shake my hair down my back.
“Everything.”
“Light me a smoke.”
He hands it to me.
“Good boy , now I will dance for you.” I move my hips and
throw my hands over my head, spilling the contents on the
faded carpet, my face down, smiling, in a dance for Steve.
He moans. “I want you.”
“What do you want?” I whisper in his ear.
“Y ou.”
“Say it.” I suck back smoke and blow it in his face. “Say it.”
“I want to fuck you.”
I squeal with delight as he tries to rip off both our pants at
the same time. Clank go my jeans on the thin carpet. I drink
from the bottle and press my foot against his shoulder, forcing
him to lie on the couch, and I climb on top of his dick and
rock back and forth, never letting go of my liquor. He comes
quickly .
“Y ou can sleep on the floor,” I say .
In the morning I step over his snoring body . Wes stands in the
kitchen with a lopsided smile and a joint. I open the cupboard
and pull down another bottle of rye. He hands the joint to me
as I tip the bottle to my lips.
“That guy was a loser.”
He smiles more.
“I mean, ‘hoolie’? Come on.” I laugh. “He’s quick too.”
“I’ve heard that about him.”
“Y ou should have seen him; it was great. He couldn’t control
himself when I started to dance. Honestly, he was jumping
on me.”
We laugh. Steve stumbles into the kitchen looking dazed and
sets his grinning eyes on me. He squeezes my ass.
“That’s enough for you, stallion. I don’t think you can
handle me.”
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Wes and I laugh some more. Steve asks for a hit.
“The cops are gone,” Wes says. We roar with laughter as he
puts on his shoes and walks down the stairs.
Wes is sitting on the floor next to me, blowing smoke in my
face to wake me up. I blink, yawn, stretch, and reach out for
the joint. His face is inches away from mine. I blow smoke at
him. He hands me a glass of rye.
“Y ou really know how to take care of a girl. How will I ever
repay you?”
“Oh, you’re doing your part. Maybe one day you’ll do that
little dance for me.”
“Only if you’re a good boy .”
I’m sitting on the floor by the couch while Stacey braids my
hair. There’s a knock on the door, and two guys step in, look-
ing for Wes. I can feel Stacey roll her eyes when Wes takes them
back to their room, but she says nothing. She finishes my hair
before they come to the living room. The ugly one sits next to
me on the floor and rolls a joint. He makes nice, but I’m inter-
ested in the pretty one, who doesn’t even seem to notice I’m
alive. I ignore the ugly one and get up, trying to get the other’s
attention.
“Hey there.” I jingle the ice in my glass.
He mumbles something and goes back to his conversation
with Wes. I flash a look at Wes, who shrugs. I put my hand on
the guy’s shoulder as he lights a joint.
“Can I get some of that?”
He hands it over, not even glancing at me while I bite my lip
and rub a finger along the top of my breasts. I look over at
Stacey and mouth the word fag. She giggles. The ugly one
crosses the small room to stand next to me, but I refuse to take
my eyes off the pretty one.
The ugly one leans over and whispers in my ear, “Y ou want
to get together?”
“No, thanks,” I say out loud, still not looking at him.
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He slides his hand over my ass. I throw him a hard look, but
he whispers again in my ear, leaning close enough for me to
feel the wetness of his mouth.
“Come on.”
I shake my head.
“I just want a little lovin’, sweet thing.” He grabs my breast
and squeezes it hard between his fingers.
I throw my drink in his face. An ice cube bounces off his
nose. “I said no.”
He slaps me across the face. Wes grabs the guy’s hair and
smashes his face against the wall.
“No one hits one of my girls. Get out of my house and don’t
come back.”
“Y eah, and take your fucking friend with you,” I yell. 
Stacey gives Wes a look and rushes to my side to check my
face.
“You’re always getting yourself in trouble with the boys,”
she mumbles, leading me to the kitchen for some ice.
“Y our girls?” I hear from their room. “Y our girls? What the hell
is that? This is not going to be like it was with Patty . Oh no.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t you play dumb with me. Y ou want to fuck her, don’t
you. Just like everyone else wants to fuck her.”
I gather up my bottle and cigarettes and walk out the door.
I wake up later that night to Stacey stroking my hair.
“Everything okay?” I croak.
“He’s strangling me.”
“So break up with him.”
“I can’t. I just can’t.”
The lights come on, cutting through the comforting cover of
dark, and the drunken bar-goers begin to drift out the door.
Wes waits while I finish my beer, but Stacey and Mikey have
already wandered outside. Wes is teasing me about my unsuc-
cessful attempts to pick up, when the bartender pokes his head
between us.
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“Sarah, right?”
“Y eah.”
“You want to go for coffee or something? Ryan said he’d
finish up for me.”
I glance at Wes with an eyeful of “don’t underestimate my
powers” and smile. “Sure, that’d be great.”
Wes follows us outside. I wave at Mikey and Stacey , indicat-
ing the bartender with a nod. Mikey rolls his eyes. I shrug at
Stacey and follow the bartender to his car.
“Y ou know , for all the time I’ve been going to the bar, I never
actually got your name.”
“Oh, it’s Jerry .” He puts a rap song on the stereo and pumps
it loud.
“Where do you want to go for coffee?” I say over the music.
“I thought we’d go to my place.”
Jerry puts his hand on my leg and rubs my covered thigh in
circles with his thumb. He changes gears with his left hand,
never taking his palm from my body during the entire ride to
his apartment. It’s a small place, filled with brightly coloured
furniture and band posters. The first thing I see is the bed—a
huge, square thing with purple silk sheets.
“Is this real?” I ask, smoothing the sheets with my hand.
Jerry nods and hands me a beer. “Take a seat.”
He sits beside me on the purple bed, puts his hand on the
back of my head, and pulls me to his face. He lunges his big
tongue into my mouth, poking it in and out like some kind of
lizard. I pull away , ready to do things my way , but he pulls my
head back toward him and kisses me again. I push at his torso
until he stops.
“Hey , man, keep it calm.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I just like to do things a certain way , that’s all.”
“What way is that?”
“My way . It ruins the mood if we talk about it, so let’s just
start again.”
“Whatever.”
I contemplate asking him to drive me home as I pour beer
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down my throat to kill the taste of that lizard tongue. The bed
vibrates from his leg bouncing up and down.
What the hell. This might even be a challenge, and he is
really cute.
My hand slithers up his thigh, trying to tease him into a
visible bulge. He grabs my hand and grinds it against his
pants.
“Like that, baby . That’s where it is.”
I pull away. “I know where it is, you fucking moron. You
think I don’t know what I’m doing?”
“Y ou’re not doing anything at all.”
I light a cigarette. “Listen, maybe this just isn’t going to
work out.”
“What are you, a cocktease? I don’t play games, little girl. If
you can’t handle a real man, then—”
“I didn’t say I couldn’t handle you. Did you hear me say any-
thing like that?”
“Y ou’re afraid you can’t handle the big boys.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
“Ha, at least you’ve got some attitude. I like that about
you.”
He takes the beer from my hand, crushes out my smoke, and
turns the lights out. In the dark his face is erased, but his large
hands pull me farther onto the bed by my waist, spin me
around, and push my nose into the pillow .
“I didn’t say—”
“Y ou want to do this or are you just a big tease?”
“I’m not a tease.”
“ All right, then.”
Jerry flings my hands over my head and pulls down my
pants. He puts his full weight on me, taking my breath away,
and whispers in my ear.
“Do you want this?”
“Y eah,” I say in a bored voice.
I hear a belt buckle hit the carpeted floor and feel his erec-
tion on my thigh. “I didn’t hear you. Y ou feel that?”
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“Y eah.”
“Y ou want it?”
“That’s my line.”
“Not tonight.”
He flips me onto my back and slides my panties past my
ankles, creating a shivering sensation throughout my body that
affects me in spite of myself. I reach over for the beer, but Jerry
smacks my arm.
“Y ou keep your arms up there. This is how I do things.”
I sigh. He covers my kneecaps with his fingers and places a
thumb on the inside of each knee, then spreads my legs apart. I
hear the noise of a condom wrapper opening.
“Well, at least you use condoms.”
“Of course, you never know what you might get.”
All of my senses turn off once I feel him penetrate me. My
high disappears, making it less bearable than it should be. He
pumps up and down, never letting his grip on my wrists
loosen. I roll my eyes and wait for this to be over. Jerry’s
moans get louder as he thrusts in, putting his mouth closer to
my ear.
“Oh yeah. Mmm.”
“Oh, baby ,” I say .
He thrusts faster. The space between moans shortens until
he almost pierces my eardrum with his screaming, and his full
weight is on me again.
I push at his shoulders and slide out from under him as he
rolls over.
At least that didn’t take long.
After going to the bathroom, I sit in the dark on a chair and
smoke my cigarette with trembling hands and lips. I keep my
head down, forcing myself not to cry , and after I butt out my
smoke I steady my voice as much as possible to ask for a ride
home.
“Jesus, can’t you just walk or something?”
“Y ou’ve got to be fucking kidding me. I mean, the least you
can do after—”
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“All right, stop your bitching. Just let me lie here and enjoy
it for a minute.”
“Fine.”
I finish my beer in the dark, hugging my knees to my chest,
feeling more like a child than I have in a long time.
“Do you have any pot, Jerry?”
“No, don’t use the stuff. It can get you in a lot of trouble,
you know?”
“Yeah, I know. When I’m high I do stuff I would never nor-
mally do. And it sucks when your high fades and you’re right
in the middle of doing one of those things.”
“Okay , let’s go,” he says.
He pulls in front of Wes’s place and says, “Was it good for
you?”
I leap out of the car before I answer, ready to run. “Sure, it
was everything I imagined it could be. You answered all the
questions I had about real men.”
“Oh yeah, what were they?”
“Well, I just wondered if real men could last longer than the
not-so-real ones. And now , thanks to you, I know that real men
blow their loads just as fast.” I tear into the apartment without
looking back. Listening first to see if I woke anyone, I go to the
kitchen for a drink. A bag of weed looks at me from the mid-
dle shelf of the alcohol cupboard. I give it the finger and slam
the door, going to bed without what I went to get in the first
place.
I pad into the kitchen in a T-shirt and underwear. He’s waiting
for me with a joint and a wide smile.
“How was the bartender?”
“Who cares? He sucked. What’s with all of these goddamned
dishes and takeout containers piled up on the counter? This
place looks like a crack house.”
“Who says this isn’t a crack house?” He pushes my shoulder
playfully . “I guess Stace just doesn’t feel like cleaning up.”
I reach past him for a bottle and he hands me the joint, but I
wave it away .
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“What’s wrong with you this morning?”
“None of your business. You know what? Maybe I’m just
not in the mood to listen to your crap this morning. How
about that?”
“Oh,” he croons, “are we in a bad mood? Is my little sex
monkey grumpy today? Did you wake up on the wrong side of
a loser this morning?”
“Fuck you, Wes.”
“No need to be nasty . Lighten up a bit.” He shoves the joint
in my face. When I reach up to brush it away , he grabs my arm,
twists it around my back, and tickles me until I’m in tears.
He’s holding both my arms behind my waist tickling me, and
I’m doubled over, my back squirming against his chest as I try
to get away , when Stacey walks into the kitchen. She grabs the
closest glass and smashes it off the wall just inches from our
heads.
“I hate you both. You guys can go to hell!” She slams the
door and pounds down the stairs.
Wes lets me out of the hold. I spin around and pluck the
joint off the counter, lighting it with shaky hands. I inhale a
big cloud of smoke all the way to the bottom of my lungs, let-
ting the drug ease my nerves before either of us speaks.
“She’s been freaking out like that a lot lately .”
He takes the joint from me. “She goes through phases like
this every once in a while.”
“We weren’t even doing anything. She didn’t have a reason
to freak out like that. Do you think she’s okay?”
“Sure, she’s just uptight is all.”
“I need a drink.”
“Me too.”
I catch sight of Duncan from the corner of my eye through the
manufactured haze and fluorescent laser beams. A smile lifts
my lips when I see some unsuspecting young thing hanging
from his arm. Making sure neither Mikey nor Wes is watching,
I slink over to the corner of the bar where my ex stands.
“You’d better watch out for this guy,” I say to the girl.
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Duncan’s glare only pushes me further. “He’s a mean one.” I
make a lame punching motion with my fists, sticking my
tongue out and rolling my eyes back into my head.
Duncan jerks his head toward another wall in the bar, leans
toward his girlfriend’s ear, and ushers me away , not once laying
a hand on me.
“Don’t talk to my girlfriend,” he growls loud enough to be
heard over the music.
“Don’t try to intimidate me, Duncan. It doesn’t work any-
more.”
He puts his hands in the air and an innocent look on his
face. “I wasn’t.”
“Sooner or later everyone will know what an asshole you are
and you’ll be thrown in jail. It’s not my fault you live in a small
town.”
He looks at me the way he used to in the beginning, with
hungry eyes and a sly smile. “Have you looked at yourself in
the mirror lately? Y ou look like shit. I guess that’s what hang-
ing out with Wes and all his drugs does to a girl.”
“You still want to sleep with me, and you know it. You’re
just pissed that you can’t have me anymore.”
“I get what I want.”
“I noticed.”
He still appears to be the Duncan I first met, so I take a
chance. “There’s something I want to ask you.”
“So go ahead.”
“I just wanted to know why . I mean, you seemed so nice in
the beginning; there must have been something that attracted
you to me. And even if it was your intention from the start,
there are a million punching bags out there. Why’d you choose
me?”
He doesn’t answer right away, seeming to allow my words
enough time to bring him pleasure. “Y ou were the first punch-
ing bag I saw that day . Besides, I could smell your cherry a mile
away .”
“Y ou’re such a pig.”
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He chortles. “That’s why you loved me so much.”
“Don’t ever talk to me again.”
“Hey, you wanted to know,” he says through a smirk.
“Maybe you’ll leave my new puss alone now .”
“By the way, your face seems to be healing nicely. How’s
your jaw?”
Duncan’s mouth gapes with no response. I flip him the
finger and walk away , heart pounding.
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TWELVE
The start of February brings more snow . The boys, Stacey , and
I have spent the day and night hiding from the cold in the
apartment. As usual, I am drunk and stoned. When Mikey
arrives, he appears drunk as well.
He puts a case of beer against the wall in the living room
and slides down next to it, much the way I first sat in Wes’s
place. Even in my messed-up state I can see there’s something
different about him. Mikey is quiet and sullen. He takes a beer
from the case, opens it, and begins to savour it, like he wants it
to last forever.
Jake is in the bathroom making out with his new girlfriend.
Stacey and Wes are talking in the bedroom. I imagine I can
make out the word strangling. I pull myself along the stained
carpet to where Mikey sits and help myself to one of his
bottles.
“What’s with you tonight, man? Where’s your cheer?”
He mutters something incomprehensible.
“Did something bad happen?”
“No, but it might.”
“Why do you have to worry about something that hasn’t
even happened yet? Y ou’re drunk; enjoy it and stop thinking.”
“That’s the problem,” he says as he finally turns to me. “I
haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since I met you.
And I’m afraid that if I don’t do anything about it, it will just
slip away and I’ll miss the chance for something great.”
“What are you talking about?”
Mikey grabs my face with his drunken fingers and looks into
my eyes. “I love you.”
I am stunned. There is nothing I expected to hear less.
“Well, say something. Y ou’re making me nervous.”
“I’m not sure what to say . Where is this coming from?”
“What kind of a question is that? Where does love come
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from? I have no idea. All I know is that I love you. I have since
the first minute I laid eyes on you at that party .”
“Why didn’t you tell me that before?”
“I was afraid. And the more I got to know you, the more I
realized that you had your own shit to deal with. I figured you
didn’t need something else that might fuck up your life— Y ou
still haven’t said anything.”
“Mikey, ever since we’ve become really good friends there’s
been no one closer to my heart than you. Y ou’ve been there for
me through everything. I’ve just never looked at you that way
before.”
“Well, look at me that way now . What do you see?”
I look into the eyes, full of love and hope, that once made
me realize not all guys are the same. They are the eyes that
have watched over me in countless drunken stupors. They are
the same eyes that have not once judged me while I slept with
countless guys in the past few months.
I lean closer to him, touch the back of his neck with my
hand, and pull him toward me. Our lips meet with awkward
caution. His tongue gently loops itself around mine. My heart
pounds.
“Can we give it a chance?”
“Y es,” I say .
After a moment’s silence, Mikey speaks without looking at
me.
“Sarah?”
“Y es?”
“There’s something I have to tell you before we go too far.”
“What?”
“Well, it’s kinda hard to talk about. It was a stupid thing to
do. It wasn’t even my idea.”
“Spit it out.”
“Okay . Y ou see, Jake knew I liked you, and I knew he wanted
to get with you.”
“Y eah, we all knew that.”
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“We couldn’t figure out what to do. It didn’t seem fair for
both of us to go after you at once.”
“Go after me?”
“Listen, Sarah.”
“Okay , go ahead.”
“So, Jake got this brilliant idea that we should somehow
decide which one of us can try .”
“Uh-huh.”
“That’s when he suggested the pool game.”
“You guys were betting over me on a fucking pool game?
What the hell do you think I am?”
“No, it wasn’t like that. We weren’t betting on who got you,
but on which one of us could pursue you. It seemed like the
fair thing to do. We couldn’t very well both try at the same
time.”
“Why not? You don’t think it’s up to me to choose who I
want to be with?”
“No, that’s not it either. It would have really hurt our friend-
ship if we both tried.”
“Oh, and your friendship is more important than betting me
like I’m a piece of property?”
“I know it was stupid, but it sounded like a good idea at the
time.”
“Well, it wasn’t. Is that what this is? Are you telling me you
love me to win, to beat Jake?”
“No, of course not. I really do love you. You’ve got to
believe me.”
Those eyes again. Even my judgement can be trusted when
looking into those eyes.
“I do.”
“So, you still want to try ,” he says after a pause.
“Yes, but only because you told me up front. And only if
you promise not to do anything stupid like that ever again.”
“I promise.”
“Are you planning on rubbing it in his face?”
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“I could never do that.”
“Good, because I’ve seen enough fighting to last me a life-
time.”
“Me too.”
“That’s what I like about you, Mikey. You’ve always been
different from all the other guys I’ve known.”
“I like everything about you.”
We hug and spend the rest of the night talking about our
hopes and dreams for the future.
We talk about this for the next two months. Every time I see
him I feel an ache in my heart. It’s the ache of knowing we
could have been together sooner, and my life could have been
full of love, not sex. I wonder what else I have missed during
my pot and alcohol binges.
Late April brings the rainy start of spring. The snow has melt-
ed, uncovering pavement that has been long forgotten. One
night I sit in the living room with Stacey and Wes cleaning out
my wallet, and come across the fake ID.
“I guess I don’t need this anymore,” I say, flinging the card
to Wes. “The bouncers all know me now .”
“Y ou never needed it,” he says.
“What do you mean?”
“They knew you were with me. Getting you in was never a
problem, though they like everyone to have ID in case the pigs
raid the place.” He looks at the licence. “ Ah, Patty .”
“What was she like?”
“Kind of like you, actually ,” he says.
“That’s not true,” says Stacey . “She was crazy . Y ou’re nice.”
“Whatever, she just liked to party . You’re just mad ’cuz she
used to tease you all the time.”
Stacey looks at me with a sheepish grin. “I guess you could
say she was flirty .”
“Yeah, more than that. You guys were into each other. She
always used to promise to let me watch.”
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“But it never got that far because she was just a big tease.”
“See, I told you.”
“Why did she kill herself?” I ask.
They look at each other and then Wes speaks. “I guess the
pressure just got to her.”
“The pressure of what?”
“Life,” Stacey says.
“Oh.”
“She was unbalanced,” he says. “There’s nothing more to it
than that.”
“I think there was,” says Stacey .
Silence.
“She didn’t leave a note or anything,” she says.
Wes hands me the card. “Keep it just in case.”
“I don’t know if I want to. The resemblance is really creepy .”
He shrugs. “Whatever.”
I slip it back into my wallet.
“Enough talk about the dead,” Stacey says. “Let’s get you
ready for your date with Mikey .”
I follow her into the room and settle myself on the mattress,
facing her.
“Y ou want to look good for him tonight,” she says.
“Do a good job, then.”
“I always do.” Stacey giggles. “I’m sorry I freaked out on you
earlier. I wasn’t mad at you, it was Wes who pissed me off.”
“It’s okay .”
“You’re always so forgiving. I bet you wouldn’t stay mad at
me, no matter what I did.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“Would you be mad at me if I left Wes?”
“No.”
“I’ve been thinking a lot lately about who I am. I need to
find out.”
“Y ou will.”
“I’m not so sure anymore.”
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Tears slide down Stacey’s face. I reach out to wipe them
away .
“Hey , don’t do that; I’ve never known you to cry . Everything
will be okay . I promise.”
“How can you be so sure? God, Sarah, I’ve felt so confused
lately . I love Wes more than anything in this world, but I don’t
think I love myself. How can I love anyone if I don’t love
myself?”
“Have you talked to Wes about this?”
“Of course. Not in so many words, though. I don’t know
what he thinks.”
“I know he loves you. I think if you need to go on a journey ,
he’ll understand. Y our love will withstand the time apart, and
when you come back you’ll be a new person, sure of yourself
and able to truly love him.”
“But what if I come back and I’m so different that I don’t
love him anymore? Or what if he stops loving me?”
“All I can say is that whatever happens is meant to be. I
believe in fate. You don’t fuck with fate. If it’s telling you to
leave for a while, you should do that.”
“But I’m afraid.”
“I know it’s a scary thing, but think of how scary it’ll be to
wake up one day when you’re fifty and realize how many
regrets you have because you didn’t listen to fate.”
“Y ou really think it’s fate that I leave?”
“I do. Just talk to Wes about it and see what he says. Don’t
worry about something before it happens.”
“Do you think it’s fate that your dad kicked you out of the
house?”
I shrug. “I never thought about it that way , but I guess so. If
it didn’t happen, I wouldn’t be who I am today .”
“Y eah, but it was mean. Is fate mean?”
“Y ou know what, let’s stop talking about this now . I want to
look forward to my date with Mikey , not think about my ass-
hole father.”
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“I’m sorry . I wasn’t thinking.”
“It’s okay . How do I look?”
“T o die for. Mikey will want to eat you all up.”
“That’s what I was aiming for.”
He takes me to his house, which his parents have deserted, and
leads me to the dining room. The only light comes from two
candles and the moon, which falls into the room through the
patio door. The table is set for two. He pulls out a chair for me.
“What’s the special occasion?”
“My parents are gone for the weekend.”
“I didn’t know you could cook.”
“I can’t,” he says. “I ordered Chinese.”
We talk through dinner about our dreams.
“If I were rich, I would buy the biggest house in Brockville.
It would have a huge pool in the backyard, even though it’s
right on the lake. I love water.”
“How would you make your big bucks?” I ask.
“I would be the richest computer programmer in the world.
What about you?”
“If I were rich, I’d travel. I want to see every corner of the
earth and I’d send my father a postcard from every country,
telling him how much fun I was having.”
“You haven’t talked about your dad in a long time. Did
something happen?”
“Not really . Stace just mentioned him tonight, and I haven’t
been able to think about anything else. You know, it really
pisses me off that he treated me that way . How dare he call me
a whore. He has no right to judge me.”
“Come here,” he says. I sit on his lap and he strokes my hair.
“You don’t have to worry about your father. He’s hurt you
enough already . I’m here for you now .”
“I know, but it just hurts so much. Aren’t all parents sup-
posed to love their children, no matter what?”
“He’s not a nice man. But I love you, no matter what.”
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“Really? No matter what happens, what I do, or what I’ve
done?”
“Sarah, you don’t have to worry about that. I will love you
always. There’s nothing that you’ve done to stop my feelings,
so I can’t see any possible reason for my love to stop now or
ever.”
“I love you,” I say for the first time.
“I know .” He spoons some ice cream into my mouth. I try to
do the same, but get some on his nose.
“Y ou’re dead,” he says.
Mikey chases me around the house with the bowl of ice
cream. We end up in his room, where he closes the door and
lies down on his bed. I lie gingerly beside him, holding my
breath. He touches my nose, my chin, and my neck in one
motion and runs his hands along my shirt just above my
breasts. I run my fingers through his hair in response and rest
my hand at the base of his neck. We hold each other. I’m nerv-
ous about what’s going to happen, but excited by his body
against mine. He kneels on the bed to take off his shirt. Then
he slowly undoes the buttons on my shirt. As his hands slide
over my breasts, a need grows inside of me. I want him to
climb on top of me and make love to me. I tug at his belt. We
take each other’s pants off, and he stares at my naked body .
“Y ou’re beautiful.”
He kisses my forehead and eases himself on me. Mikey is so
sweet and gentle with me—a very attentive lover. I plant my
palms on his cheeks and pull him deeper inside as he comes.
We stroke each other’s nakedness and fall asleep tangled
together. When I wake up the next morning, he already has
breakfast ready for me.
Those breakfasts, I recall with a deep sigh, turned into a cus-
tom after every overnight lovemaking session. Mikey contin-
ued to be a gentle and sensitive lover, as well as a great friend,
for the rest of our time together.
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Soon after our first time I packed my bags and moved in
with him and his parents. Stacey hugged me at the door with
tears in her eyes. Wes drank a shot of whiskey with me. After I
said goodbye to the apartment I stopped drinking and smoking
pot as much. 
The gorgeous May night brings the scent of new blossoms in
through the window. I’m lying beside Mikey, unable to sleep
for some reason, when I hear a quiet tapping. 
I get up and pull back the curtain, surprised to see Stacey
standing in the backyard.
“I need to talk to you,” she says.
“I’ll meet you at the back door.”
Stacey stands by the door with bright red eyes, hugging
herself.
“What’s wrong?”
The new moon lights up the yard with such strength it’s
almost like dawn. We sit on the bench and look at the faint
stars before Stacey speaks.
“I’m pregnant.” She pulls her knees up to her chest.
“Are you sure?”
She nods. “I’ve taken two tests.”
Her body begins to shake with silent tears.
“Hey , it will be okay ,” I say while stroking her hair.
“No, it won’t. Nothing can make this okay .”
“Does Wes know?”
“Y es.”
“What does he think about it?”
She meets my eyes with a cold glare. “His exact words were:
‘Well, I’m not going to marry you because of this.’ I can’t
believe I’m with that jerk. What kind of guy says that to his
girlfriend after she has just told him about their baby?”
“Oh, Stace,” I sigh, trying to think of words to comfort her.
“Maybe he’s just scared right now. If you give him some time
to think about it—”
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“No. Wes has made up his mind and I know that boy . When
he’s made up his mind there’s no changing it.”
“What are you going to do?”
“What can I do? I have to have an abortion.”
I take her hands in mine. “Y ou have a choice.”
She shakes her head. “I can’t provide a life for this child all
by myself. I mean, look at me. I’m an eighteen-year-old that
does way too many drugs. I’ve probably already hurt her. She
wouldn’t have a chance in this world with me as her mother. I
can’t do that to her.”
“Why don’t you think about it for a while?”
“I already have. I made an appointment for tomorrow .”
“How long have you known?”
“I’ve missed two periods.”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
She shrugs. “The lady at the clinic told me it has to be done
in the first trimester, so I don’t have much time. The reason I
came here is to ask you to go to the clinic with me.”
“Of course I’ll go. Are you sure this is what you want?”
“There is no other choice.”
The sky is clear as we drive in silence to the clinic. Until today I
hadn’t known there was an abortion clinic in Brockville. There
are five picketers—four women and one man—marching by
the door. The picket signs depict graphic messages. One
woman carries a sign with a fetus in a specimen jar.
I wrap my arm around Stacey’s shoulders and lead her up
the path.
“Just keep your head down. Don’t listen to anything they
say .”
Murderer , murderer, they chant.
They form a semicircle, blocking us from entering the
building. One woman grabs Stacey’s arm.
“Don’t do this,” she pleads. “Don’t kill the tiny life inside of
you. Y ou have other choices.”
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Stacey struggles to loosen the woman’s grip.
“Let go of her.” I grab the woman’s other arm and try to
yank her away from my friend.
“Y ou’re murdering a baby just to preserve your precious lit-
tle lifestyle,” another woman spits at us.
“Fuck off,” I scream. “Get out of our way .”
Murderer, they continue chanting.
Inside the clinic it’s too bright with artificial light, the blinds
permanently closing out the sun. Posters shouting pro-choice
messages plaster the otherwise white walls. We walk toward
the receptionist, who sits behind bulletproof glass. She smiles
warmly at us.
“Do you have an appointment with Dr. Smith today?”
“Y es,” Stacey whispers.
“What’s the name?” She checks the list. “Okay , Stacey . Take
these and we’ll call you in a minute or two.”
She slides two tiny cups under the glass toward Stacey . One
contains two blue pills, and the other is full of water.
My best friend closes her eyes and lets the pills slide down
her throat. I lead her to the tiny waiting room.
“Where are you getting the money to pay for this?” I ask.
She pulls a wad of money out of her purse. “Wes gave it to
me. At least he did something.”
“Does he know it’s today?”
She nods and blinks tears out of her eyes.
“I don’t know if I can do this, Sarah. What if they’re right?
Maybe I’m murdering my daughter.”
“Sweetheart, it’s not murder. God, it makes me so mad that
they think they can stand out there and get in everyone’s way .
What right do they have to push their views on everyone else?
This is Canada. We have every right to be here. It’s a legal
choice. It’s a fucking choice and it’s yours, not theirs.”
“Y eah, but what if I don’t want to go through with it?”
“Y ou’re going to have to decide soon, Stace. They’ll call you
anytime now .”
“Maybe this whole thing was a bad idea. I can’t go through
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with this. I’ll raise her by myself. Wes can pay child support
and I’ll stop drinking. I could be a good mom if I tried.”
“If you don’t want to do this, then let’s go.”
She shakes her head and looks at the floor. “I have to be real.
There’s nothing I have to offer her. She’ll just have to come
back again after this and pray to God for a better mother.”
“Are you absolutely positive? This isn’t something that you
can get back once you’ve done it.”
“I know . It’s okay . I have to, so I will.”
“Stacey Wallice?”
The nurse guides us through a narrow corridor to a room
with no windows. A beige box on wheels dominates the small
room. There is a long, black hose wrapped around a hook on
the side of the machine. It’s a thin, smooth hose. A sink tries
to hide in the corner, but the bed sits openly in the middle of
the room, offering a folded hospital gown to the next patient.
I help Stacey out of her shirt and tie the gown together. She
pulls off her jeans and underwear, handing them to me to take
care of. She approaches the bed with hesitation, then climbs up
and tries to shift into a comfortable position.
“Hold my hand,” she says.
The doctor walks in, wearing a white coat and carrying a
clipboard. His smile is too much for this occasion.
“Hello, Stacey . How are you feeling?”
She shrugs.
“Now, I have to ask you this, just to be sure. I know that
you’ve already signed many release forms, but I’m giving you
one more chance to opt out. Y ou know this is absolutely what
you want to do?”
“Y es.”
“Okay , then. Let’s get it over with.”
The doctor walks over to the sink, scrubs his hands, and
then puts on gloves. He prepares something by the sink and
walks over to Stacey .
“I am about to inject a local anaesthetic in the cervix. It will
numb the area.”
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She digs her fingernails into my palm and releases the grasp
on my hand. I take her hand back in mine, smoothing a thumb
over her fingers.
The doctor pulls a black piece of plastic out of the cup-
board above the sink and begins to fit it over the small end of
the hose.
“Now, Stacey, I’m going to insert this inside your vagina.
Just relax and it won’t hurt going in.”
Her grip tightens on my hand as the doctor puts it inside
her.
“I’m just going to turn the machine on. Y ou may feel some-
thing, but it won’t hurt. I promise.”
He presses some buttons on the machine, creating a low
humming noise. Stacey closes her eyes. The hum continues for
two minutes while the doctor stares at the box. Mixed in with
the humming is a faint slurping sound that fills the room.
She squeezes me harder. The slurping stops for a second,
replaced by thick silence, then a quiet thunk, then more slurp-
ing. The doctor looks up from the machine, and then presses
more buttons and the humming and slurping stop.
“It’s over, Stacey,” he says. “Now, you’re going to want to
take it easy for the next few weeks. Y ou may be sore and some
bleeding is possible, so don’t worry too much unless it seems
to be an abnormal amount. Y ou may feel a little depressed for
a while. If it persists, there is a great unit at the hospital that
can help you.”
She doesn’t respond. She’s staring at the wall, rubbing her
hand over her stomach.
“Stacey?”
“Hmm?”
“Can you walk?” he asks.
She forces her legs over the side of the bed and attempts a
few steps.
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Okay . Good luck.”
He walks out of the room and closes the door.
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“Hey ,” I say , “are you okay?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Okay , let’s get you dressed.”
I hand Stacey her clothes, but she just stands there with her
hand over her stomach.
“Okay, hold on to my shoulders and step into these. Yeah,
that’s good. Now the other foot. Okay , just one more time into
your jeans.”
She glances back at the box as I lead her out of the room
and back to the receptionist behind the bulletproof glass. She
tells Stacey how much, but my friend cannot respond. I take
the wad of cash—the exact cost of the procedure—from her
purse and slide it through a slit in the glass.
I blink in the sunlight as we hurry past the protestors.
“Murderer,” they scream.
Stacey doesn’t seem to notice them, but I swear at them
again.
In Mikey’s truck on the way home, Stacey stares out the
window . For most of the ride she is silent.
“I’ve always dreamed of being a singer,” she says.
I don’t know what to say .
“I’m pretty good too.” She sings the first few lines of “The
Mockingbird Song” in a clear, sweet voice.
“Wow, Stace, I’ve never heard you sing before. You’re really
good.”
She doesn’t say another word until we are back at her apart-
ment. Wes has gone somewhere, leaving us alone in her room.
As I tuck her under the covers, she turns to face me.
“After I took the second test I got really drunk and high. I
stood at the top of the stairs wondering if I should do it. Wes
offered to push me. He said it would be cheaper.”
Her hand never leaves her belly .
“I wonder how many other babies were in that box.”
I stroke her hair until she falls asleep.
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Two weeks after Stacey’s abortion, the phone rings in the mid-
dle of the night. I wake, heart pounding, afraid something has
happened to her. I lift the receiver to my ear.
“Hello?”
“I would have named her Sarah, after you.”
“Stacey?”
The connection is cut.
I lean over and shake Mikey awake.
“What is it, sweetie?”
“Tell me I’m a good person.”
“Y ou are,” he whispers, and then rolls over, tucking his arm
under the pillow .
I sneak to the dresser, where I have hidden a bottle of tequila
for emergencies, and slip out the door to the backyard holding
the bottle tightly in my hand. 
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THIRTEEN
Sitting on the toilet seat with my head in my hands for so
long gave me a kink in my neck. I settled into the tub and
stretched my legs out, readying myself for another long haul
through Memoryville.
The summer passed quickly , and my seventeenth birthday at
the end of it almost went unnoticed. September brought
another year out of school and the biggest tragedy of my
young life. In retrospect, I know there was nothing I could have
done to alter the fate of a person so close to me. But the guilt I
felt for not even trying has consumed me for the past seven
years.
Mikey was away for the weekend with his parents, so I
decided to spend some time with my old friends Stacey and
Wes. The abortion seemed to be forgotten, but I caught Stacey
touching her belly every now and then throughout the night.
“Hey , where’ve you been hiding?” Wes calls as I walk through
the door.
“She’s been with her new lover-man, Mikey ,” says Stacey in
the underwater voice.
“I brought us some beer.”
“We’ve got something way better than that,” Wes says with
a twinkle in his eye.
“What can possibly be better than beer? God, I really haven’t
been around too much; you guys have changed.”
Wes produces a mirror and a small baggie full of white pow-
der.
“What’s that?”
“Cocaine, duh,” Stacey says.
“Where’d you guys get that shit?”
“Wes is a dealer, remember?”
“Yeah. Speaking of dealing, did you ever pay back that guy
you owed all that money to?”
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“Eventually . I didn’t have a choice.”
“I thought you didn’t use your own stash, unless it was pot.”
“I’m obligated to try my stuff before I sell it. What if I get a
bad batch? It’s better to kill one person than the bunch I would
if I sold it right away .”
Wes carefully pours a pile of the powder onto the mirror
and begins to make three lines with a razor blade. He takes out
a straw that’s been cut in half and leans close to the mirror. He
blocks one nostril with his finger, then breathes in loudly
through his nose, following the line with the straw. He sniffs
quickly three times and passes the mirror to Stacey .
“What’s it like?”
“It’s the ultimate high. I’ve never known anything else like it.
Y ou fucking fly .”
Stacey snorts the second line and holds the mirror out to
me. They watch me as I stare at the mirror, then at them.
“Go on, it’s great,” Stacey says.
“Isn’t this stuff addictive?”
“Y eah, but so’s everything else. We’re not addicted.”
“ And how long have you been doing this?”
“I don’t know . For the summer at least, maybe longer.”
“I heard you can become addicted to cocaine the first time.”
“That’s ridiculous. Just try it; it’s not going to kill you. Wes
has already made sure of that,” Stacey laughs.
I take the straw and mirror from her and place it on the
cardboard coffee table. I lean close to the mirror, following
Wes’s lead.
“Y ou’ve got to snort it fast,” he says.
The powder sets my nose on fire.
“Ughhh!” I fan my hand wildly by my burning nostril.
“It’ll go away .”
We pass the mirror around the full circle once more, and
Stacey and Wes both do a third line. The only thing I feel right
away is the trail of deadened nose hair in my right nostril. Wes
gets off the couch to put on a CD. Stacey rolls her eyes.
“This is his coke music.”
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“White Zombie? Why’s that, Wes?”
He shrugs away the question and lets himself melt into the
throbbing beat, nodding his head up and down, slapping his
hand against his thigh. I pull a beer from my case and wonder
when this is going to kick in.
Wes jumps from the couch and dances around the room like
a silly man, throwing his body all over the place. His limbs
dangle oddly from his body and jiggle this way and that, but
he jerks his head deliberately back and forth in short, quick
movements. Stacey’s face lights up with a genuine smile.
“This is my favourite song.”
She gets up and dances near him, suggestively swaying her
arms around her body and directing her face at the ceiling. As
I watch them in their practised motion, they become sharper in
my vision. In my mind everything becomes so clear. No matter
what hard times they’ve been through, these two are perfect for
each other, and so are Mikey and me, because I can handle
anything.
“Hey , let’s go somewhere.”
“We can go anywhere you want baby-cakes, ’cuz I own this
town. No, fuck that, I’m the king of the whole fucking world. I
can take you anywhere you want to be.”
“Let’s go to the bridge. I can see everything so clearly now . I
bet I’ll be able to see extra far from the top of the bridge.”
“Wait, wait,” Stacey says, struggling to pull three bottles
from the case at once. She hands one to each of us, and
motions for us to twist off the caps, then she raises her bottle
toward the middle of our tightly formed circle.
“Before we go anywhere we have to celebrate.”
“Celebrate what?”
“Us,” she says as though I’m stupid. “We’re the three muske-
teers and there’s nothing that we can’t do when we work
together. Hey , Wes owns this town, you could get any guy you
want, and I am filled with the power of love from the two clos-
est people in my life. I am life!”
“T o us,” Wes says.
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We clink our bottles and gulp back the contents.
“Honestly, guys, we’re perfect for each other.” Stacey turns
on her heel and runs toward the door, throwing over her shoul-
der, “Bet you can’t catch me.”
She runs ahead of us and twists out of Wes’s grasp when he
catches her. He gets into a rant about his status, throwing his
arms around for emphasis whenever needed.
“Y ou know , everyone in this town knows me. They know not
to fuck with me too. And they all want something from me;
they all need me in some way or the other. I own this place. It’s
amazing being at the top, Sarah. There’s nothing I’d trade it
for in the whole world. I mean, come on, what’s better than
respect? I get respect. I walk into any bar or pub in town and
they all know me—even some in Toronto. I never have to wait
in line, and I get my drinks for free if I goddamned well want
to. I even get respect from my supplier. You remember Bruce,
the guy who came to smash my thumb? Yeah, that’s right, he
gave me respect, and he damn well should have, too. He said to
me, after he pounded that thing on my thumb three times,
‘Y ou know, Wes, I gotta respect that. Y ou take your pain like a
man.’ And I do. ’Cuz I am a man. I’m a fucking MAN!”
“That you are, baby,” Stacey calls from up ahead. “And
that’s why I know no one is gonna fuck with me anymore.
’Cuz I’m your woman.”
Wes runs to catch up with Stacey and lifts her above his
head, spinning her into an embrace. I run ahead of them to the
bridge and climb onto the cement, overlooking the highway
below and the lights beyond.
“Oh my God, I can see more clearly . Everything is so sharp.
Y ou guys should come and see this. It’s so fucking beautiful.”
I stretch my arms out, my hands making fists. “I am Super-
man,” I yell to the city .
Stacey climbs up beside me with Wes’s help.
“You guys are safe with me. Nothing bad can ever happen
when I’m around.”
Stacey’s jaw drops. “Wow, it is beautiful. I never knew our
little city could be so pretty .”
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I grab her hand and hold it up like a marathon runner who
has just won.
“‘We are the champions,’” I sing.
“I’m alive.” She sways and begins to lose her balance. I feel
her pulling me toward the highway below . Suddenly I’m on the
sidewalk of the bridge again after being yanked from behind.
“Yeah, I had it under control the whole time,” Wes says.
“There wasn’t even a chance of you falling.”
Stacey and I skip ahead, hand in hand, not aware how close
we came to death. We don’t really care either, because we are
both so high. When we get back to the apartment I sit on the
couch beside Stacey while Wes goes to the bathroom.
“I felt so free up there,” she says.
“Me too. It was amazing. Do you think we could have flown
if we tried?”
“Maybe. We should go back while Wes isn’t looking and
try .”
But before we can sneak out of the house, she reaches over
and wipes my nose with the heel of her thumb. Her touch
sends shivers throughout my body. I think of our unfinished
passion in the bathroom.
“Y ou’ve got a nosebleed.”
“I bet. That stuff burns going down.”
“Y ou get used to it.”
Her fingers brush against my face as she smoothes a loose
lock of hair behind my ear. She moves in and kisses me
hungrily . Her fierceness turns me on. I kiss her harder.
“Let’s go into the bedroom. The door locks, so Wes can’t
bug us.”
I follow Stacey into the bedroom and lie down on her mat-
tress while she locks the door. She pounces on the bed beside
me, letting her long legs rest against mine as she traces her
fingers down my arm. With the fierceness gone, I begin to feel
my enthusiasm fade, but then she bites my bare shoulder. I lie
there frozen with anticipation.
Stacey unbuttons her blouse slowly and watches for my reac-
tion. I can’t move. She takes my hand and rests it on her breast,
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then eases my tank top up over my bra-less chest. I roll her nip-
ple between my fingers as she does mine, making it feel almost
as though I’m doing it to myself, but hers are smaller and
rougher. I follow her movements with my eyes as she moves her
mouth from one breast to the other. Her fingers trail down my
stomach and linger between my thighs while my nipple is still
between her teeth.
“Do you want it?” she breathes into my ear.
I nod.
Stacey lunges her tongue into my mouth and presses her
pubic bone against mine. Firmly she runs her tongue down the
line of my neck, then lightly over my breasts and firmly again
on my stomach. Her tongue rolls around in small, hard circles
on my stomach, sucking, licking, and nibbling. I smooth my
hand over her long hair. She looks up and grins. She rips off
my pants, then her own, and kisses my thighs. Her thumb
sends a shiver through my body as it runs along the lips
beneath my panties. They are wet. Once again she grins.
She gets up, stands at the end of the bed, and pulls her
underwear off, letting me soak up her beautiful figure. She
pulls me off the bed, to stand next to her, and she hooks her
fingers in the elastic of my panties. I wait for them to fall to
the floor, but she frees one finger to grab my hand. She guides
my hand over her breasts and her stomach. She shifts her
weight slightly so her legs are farther apart, and then kisses me
as she guides my hand between them. I feel her wetness, dou-
bling my own. I grab at her, needing something, but she pushes
me back on the bed and wags her finger.
“Uh, uh, uh. Not yet, young lady .”
She slides my underwear over my hips, my thighs, my calves,
and to my ankles. I kick them to the floor. My eyes flutter as
she kisses my thighs again. Her nose brushes against me. I can
feel her hot breath. She licks me once, then her fingers are
inside me and her thumb is caressing my clit. I feel a noise
rumble around in my throat. She takes my hand and puts my
finger in with hers.
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She crawls toward me to lie beside me, where she places my
hand between her legs. She’s still wet. She puts two fingers on
either side of my clit and begins to make circles. We lie there
beside each other, touching each other, but it seems like I’m
masturbating even though she feels different from me. Stacey
slides a finger from her free hand into my mouth. I suck and
bite as the pleasure comes to a climax.
“Oh God, Sarah, I love you,” she says as she comes.
My chest heaves, my body wilts, and my eyes droop. She
turns my head toward hers and kisses me again.
“Don’t you love me?”
I can’t respond. Lying there naked with her brings me into
some reality about what we’ve just done. Shame overcomes me,
wondering how Mikey will feel. I jump up, struggle with my
clothes, and leave the room without a word. As I walk through
the living room on my way to the stairs, Wes stares at me with
hatred.
With my knapsack full of clothes on my back I wander
through the temporarily deserted streets of Brockville. I don’t
have a key to Mikey’s house, and I definitely can’t knock on
my parents’ door. I walk the streets without thinking at all,
walking in circles until I find myself back at the bridge. My
super-vision is gone, but I can still see the lights. My high
drops, leaving me exhausted and lonely . I lie on the sidewalk
with my head on my knapsack. A thick blanket of clouds
blocks the stars from my view . A car drives by blaring its horn.
Dejected, I climb to my feet and start walking again. My legs
take me to the beach, where I curl up under a bench and fall
asleep.
When Mikey and his parents pull into their driveway two days
later, I’m waiting on their porch. His parents smile with their
lips but not their eyes as they walk past me into their house.
Before he can say hello, I blurt out what’s been on my mind all
weekend.
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“I think I cheated on you.”
He steps back. “What do you mean, you think?”
“I got really high and Stacey and I did stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
I shrug.
“More than kissing?”
“Y es.”
“A lot more?”
“Y es.”
“Well, okay.” He steps toward me. “Uh, that’s not really
cheating.”
“Y ou don’t think so?”
“No. It doesn’t count because she’s a girl. If you cheated on
me I would feel horrible.”
“So it wasn’t cheating?”
“Nope.”
“I don’t think Stace will be talking to me for a while.”
“Why not?”
“She told me she loved me and I didn’t say it back.”
“Now, if you had said that, it would feel more like cheat-
ing.”
“I didn’t say it because I don’t love her. Not that way, at
least, but she would have taken it that way if I told her right
after we…”
“You look disgusting. Has it been bothering you that
much?”
“I look gross because I’ve been sleeping outside for the last
two nights. This happened on Friday and I had nowhere to
go.”
“Oh, Sarah.”
“If she never talks to me again, I’ll kill myself.”
“Don’t talk like that. Stace’ll come around. Y our friendship
is too strong to get ruined, even over something this big.”
“I hope so. I really do love her, just not that way—not the
way I love you.”
“I know how much you love me.”
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“Y ou know everything, don’t you.”
“Of course. Hey , do you want to go for a drive?”
“Not really . It looks like it’s going to rain and you know how
much I hate to drive in bad weather.”
“I’ll drive. Go put your things inside and meet me out here.”
We drive in silence and the rain beats down on the roof of
Mikey’s truck. Drivers wanting to get home fast dominate the
shiny black road. Everyone seems to hate driving in the rain.
With every passing car my heart chokes. After a few swigs
from the flask I find the nerve to talk a little more about what I
did with Stacey . As I talk I realize he’s driving to the special
place he took me after I ran away from Jake. The roads get
narrower and more full of curves as we speed farther away
from the city. My mind wanders, and I think about why he
wants to take me to his place, which he hasn’t taken me to
since we’ve become a couple. Mikey takes a huge swallow from
the flask. Once most of the liquid is gone, I find the courage to
tell him that I tried cocaine.
He takes his eyes off the road only for one second.
“Mikey!”
The truck heads for the forest-dotted bluff. There are no
guardrails to keep us from falling over the side. He tries to
brake, but the truck’s rear end slides and we are spinning
around. I close my eyes, letting my body go with the G-forces
in the cab. There is a loud bang. My head is thrown into the
window . Mikey’s body crashes into me. The truck stops.
I open my eyes.
“Are you okay?”
“Y eah,” I say , rubbing my head. “Y ou?”
“Fine.”
He steps out into the rain to look at his truck. I roll down the
window to watch him stare at his truck bed, which is melded
into a tree.
“That’s not good,” I say .
We both look down at the same time.
“Better than that,” he says.
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FOURTEEN
The October air turns crisp and the trees are full of brilliantly
coloured leaves before I hear from Stacey. During this time,
Wes hasn’t called for Mikey, and Jake has probably been too
tied up with the new love of his life to remember how to use a
phone.
“Sarah, the phone’s for you,” calls Mikey’s mom.
There’s a fleeting wish for my father to be on the other end
when I pick up the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Hey , Sarah, it’s Stace.”
“Hi. How are you?”
“Good. Listen, I want to apologize.”
“Y ou don’t have to.”
“No, let me talk. I miss you so much. There isn’t much to
say about what happened between us except that it shouldn’t
have happened. I think I put too much pressure on you right
from the beginning. I know you’re not into other girls. I don’t
even know if I am, and I guess I was kind of using you to see if
I was or not.”
“It’s called experimentation. You didn’t force me into any-
thing, Stace; I was a willing participant.”
“Yeah. The funny thing is, I still don’t know how I feel
about girls. It’s so confusing. Anyway , I just wanted to call and
say sorry . I think our friendship is too good to lose over this.
Do you still want to be friends?”
“Of course.”
“Good, because you’ve been the best friend I’ve ever had.”
“Y ou’re my best friend too.”
“You’ve always been there for me, and for that I want to
thank you.”
“I try to be there.”
“Listen, do you think you’ll feel weird around me now?”
“No. I think we can get through it.”
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“How about we start tonight? Why don’t you and Mikey
come over? We’ll smoke a little pot, have some beer, you know ,
just a regular night.”
“Sounds good. I’ll see you tonight.”
Stacey greets me at the door with a hug. Wes looks up, but
speaks only to Mikey . We spend the night smoking and drink-
ing. My friend sits beside me on the floor without saying
much. At one point she leaves the room, and I tune in to a
heated discussion between Mikey and Wes. Wes doesn’t believe
in God, and neither does Mikey really, but he thinks there is
something up there watching over us. Stacey walks back into
the room and slides down the wall to sit next to me. She lights
a cigarette and stares through me as she begins to talk.
“I’ve realized something in the past year, Sarah.”
In my stoned state I don’t say a word.
“There are only two choices in life: to live or to die. You
can’t live half-assed because what’s the point? To really live is
to follow your heart. I just want to tell you again that you
really have been there for me. I don’t want you to doubt that.
Something like that can eat away at a person for the rest of her
life. But it’s true; you were there. Promise me something—”
Stacey’s eyes penetrate my haze. She takes my face in her
hands. “Don’t ever let a guy hit you again.”
I nod. She pushes the smoke from her mouth with her
tongue, puckering her lips and wrinkling her nose as the
stream whistles through her teeth. She crushes out the half-
smoked cigarette in the ashtray between us.
“Follow your heart,” she whispers in my ear, and then she
kisses my cheek. She gets up and walks down the hall.
My eyes fall on the indentations her heels have left in the
worn carpet. I run my thumb over the dents, feeling what little
impression they’ve made, but at the same time knowing it will
take a while before the carpet pushes itself back to its original
shape. As I feel the body heat fade under my thumb, Stacey’s
words float through my head. To my smoke-filled brain, it
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seems this is her way of trying to kill the awkwardness that has
recently sprung into our relationship. But when I close my eyes
and lean my head against the wall, playing the scene over in
my head, I see the message for what it truly is: goodbye.
Throughout the time I’ve known Stacey, her eyes have been
filled with hope, but tonight, with the exception of her plea,
her eyes have been dull, her words flat. I sit still for what seems
like hours, trying to collect my thoughts and shape them into
some kind of sense. Fear invoked by the finality in her words
slows my movements. Without alerting the boys, I sneak out of
the room. I peek in the bathroom but find nothing. As I walk
toward the bedroom my heartbeat slows to a thud. The door
creaks open.
She must already have started the process before she began
her goodbye.
There lies Stacey in all her ended sorrow. Her parted face
looks at the door, eyes wide open, as though waiting for some-
one to find her. My breathing stops. The thin line of blood
that has stopped trickling from her nose painfully contrasts
with the innocence of her eyes. Her arm has fallen off the bed,
pointing to a collection of empty pill bottles and a small,
empty baggie once filled with coke.
My body floats toward her. It kneels beside the hand,
amongst the bottles. There is a message written on the rolled
piece of paper she used to snort the coke.
Without my journey I am nothing.
A scream comes from the doorway . Wes runs to Stacey . I cry
as I watch him trying to revive the only person he’s ever loved.
Mikey runs into the room, surveys the scene, and ushers me
into the kitchen. While he talks to emergency personnel on the
phone I hear only Wes’s sobs and screams.
Wailing sirens get louder while Mikey is still on the line with
the dispatchers. Heavy footsteps climb the stairs, and two
ambulance attendants enter carrying medical boxes and a
stretcher.
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“Where is she?” they shout.
Mikey points to the back of the apartment. They jog to the
room that Wes and Stacey share, where she lies dead on the
mattress. One of the attendants restrains Wes while the other
checks Stacey’s vital signs. He shakes his head, but starts CPR
anyway . The body’s limbs flail in response to his heavy hands.
“What did she take?” one yells.
“We don’t know,” Mikey says. “Whatever is on the floor, I
guess.”
“She overdosed on coke,” says the other. “And there’s a lot
of empty bottles here to boot.”
He stops performing CPR, checks her vitals again and
radioes in the death to whoever’s on the other end of the line.
He motions for the other to bring the stretcher closer. Both of
them lift Stacey’s body and arrange her on a board that is
fitted with wheels. One takes out a blanket and covers her
body and face.
“I’m sorry ,” says one to Wes. “She’s gone.”
“The police will be here soon. They’ll want to question
everyone here,” says the other.
They strap her body to the board and wheel her out toward
the stairs. In the care of those two attendants, Stacey’s body
descends out of sight.
Wes runs into the hall and opens the closet door. He gets
down on his hands and knees and pries at the floorboards with
his fingers. He chucks one big Ziploc bag over his shoulder,
then another and another. He stumbles, turning to grab the
bags. We follow him to the bathroom, where he opens the bags
and pours them into the toilet bowl, flushing over and over
again. Finally he slumps down to the floor, resting his head on
the toilet seat, and cries.
“Oh, Stacey , Stacey , Stacey , what have I done?”
Mikey crouches beside him and places a hand on his shoul-
der. “Is there anyone we should call?”
He wipes his face. “Her mother, but I’ll do it. I want to do
it.”
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We follow him to the kitchen where he picks up the phone
and rests his head against the wall. We watch him dial the
number and wait for the person to pick up.
“She’s gone,” he says.
We wait.
“Stacey is gone. She OD’d and now she is gone forever.”
We can hear angry hysterics from the other end. Wes hangs
up the phone and paces through the kitchen, opening cup-
board doors. He grabs a bottle of whiskey , twists off the cap,
and pours it down his throat. Mikey takes two glasses from the
cupboard and pours into each from another bottle.
Three cops barge in and split us up, Wes and me on either
end of the living room and Mikey in the kitchen. I pour myself
another drink as a cop takes a seat next to me on the couch
and tells me he’s sorry for my loss. I recognize this cop as the
one who pulled over Mikey and me the day I had run away
from Jake. I look straight in his eyes to measure his regret.
“Who found her?”
“I did.”
“Where was everyone at that point?”
“We were all in here. Then Stacey got up—” A sob catches
in my throat, making it impossible to continue.
“Take your time.”
“I went to check on her because she’d been gone for a while
and she seemed down to me.”
“ At any point during the night was Stacey alone with anyone
away from the living room?”
“No. We all stayed in this room, except to get more liquor
and to go pee. I didn’t see her leaving the room with anyone,
but she did leave the room by herself, then she came back, then
she left again.”
“Where did she get the cocaine?”
I shrug, knowing damn well he knows where she got it from,
but he isn’t going to make me say it.
“Do you live here with Stacey and Wes?”
“Not anymore.”
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“What time did you arrive here tonight?”
“We got here around eight.”
“We?”
“Mikey and me.”
Wes’s voice rings out from the other end of the room. The
cop questioning him raises his voice to compete. It’s the red-
head from the bust after they beat Duncan.
“What are you saying?” Wes shouts.
“Oh, come on, you’ve been looking for this to happen for-
ever. You finally offed her, didn’t you. Just like that other one
who supposedly killed herself in that very same room. You
didn’t think you’d get away with it twice, did you?”
Wes pulls his arm back, his expression contorted with
hatred, his eyes wild with fear, and heaves his fist into the cop’s
face. The cop yells, and all three are on Wes, restraining him,
handcuffing him. He doesn’t even resist, letting his body go
limp; he’d given up as soon as his fist connected with flesh and
bone. The cop takes his fingers away from the bruise forming
on his face and whacks Wes across the cheek with the back of
his hand. The cop that was questioning me tells him to take it
easy . The redhead walks down the stairs, and the cop question-
ing Mikey leads Wes from the apartment. Wes looks at me
without fear in his eyes. I want to run to him, to reach out and
hold him, to erase all that has happened in the past twenty
minutes, but I can only watch the back of his head bob down
the stairs and listen to the clunking of their heavy steps fade
away . The cop that was asking me questions tells Mikey and
me that if they need anything else they’ll call. And then they
are gone, and we are left alone in the apartment.
Mikey puts a shaking arm around my shoulders, but I push
it off, needing to be alone, to be punished for what I’ve done. I
want to be comforted by Stacey or even Wes. I want to comfort
both of them. I take the bottle into the bathroom with me.
The closed door shuts out everyone’s pain, and I am left to
confront my own. My clothes fall to the floor and I step into
the scorching shower, letting it run over my hair and down my
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JENN MCKAY 140 ››
face, mixing in with the tears and the liquor in the open bottle.
Vicious thoughts materialize from the steam, turning it into a
personal hell. I know why she took her own life.
It’s because of who you are, the steam accuses me. And who
you could never be. You killed her, just as though the life was
choked from her with your own hands.
Frantically I scrub at my skin and hair, aching to rid my
mind of the image of Stacey lying on her bed. The haze takes
over my throat, cutting off the screams. I crank the tap, invit-
ing more hot water to run over my body , wishing it would burn
the skin right off my bones, still scrubbing the memory from
my mind.
Wes’s angry cries for help echo in my head as I stand between
my parents in front of Stacey’s casket in the graveyard. Wes
stands in the background between two dressed-down men, his
hands cuffed together in front of him. His feet are spread wide
apart and his head is bowed. Stacey’s mother, wearing a plain
black dress and a veil, stands close to the minister. The minis-
ter talks of love and forgiveness. My silent tears continue as
my father’s arm pulls me close. I can feel Mikey’s presence
behind me. The minister stops speaking, and Stacey’s mother
walks forward to place a white rose on the casket, then makes
a cross with her finger against her body .
The small gathering begins to disperse; they all start to go
about continuing on with their lives. I follow my parents to
their car, where they attempt to say goodbye.
“Dad, do you think I could come home for a while?”
He puts his hands on my shoulders and looks in my eyes.
“Y ou’re a big girl now , Sarah. Y ou can take care of yourself.”
I shake my head, wanting to say more, but unable to get any
words past my lips. My throat thickens with held-back tears.
He pulls a cheque from his pocket and closes my fingers
around it.
“This will do you until you are ready to find a job.”
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THE POWER OF THIRTEEN ‹‹ 141
My mother hugs me and kisses my cheek. “Y ou’ll be okay ,”
she whispers. “Call us if you need anything.”
They drive away, and I’m left staring at a cheque that has
already been made out to me for a specific amount. Jake walks
over, gives me a hug, whispers “sorry” in my ear, and walks
away without looking into my eyes. Mikey squeezes my shoul-
der and pulls me against his body .
Wes shuffles over between the two men. His eyes are wide
and brimming with tears like a child’s. He lifts his hands to
exhibit his cuffs as if to show me who he is for the first time.
“The three of us were perfect for each other.”
“I know.” I look at the ground. “Why are you still in there?
They don’t think you had anything to do with it, do they?”
“It doesn’t matter what they think; besides, assaulting a pig
will keep me in there for a good long while.” He nods to his
cuffs again. “This is where I belong.”
I want to say something to soothe him, to ease him of his
guilt, but one of the men nods forward and they walk away . I
watch Stacey’s mother weep on the minister’s shoulder, unwill-
ing to leave her daughter to rot in the grave.
Still in a daze from the pills that got me through the past
forty-eight hours, or from the events themselves, I am guided
to Mikey’s still-dented truck. We drive to his house in silence
and walk into his room. He helps me with my dress and begins
to shed his mourning attire.
“Boy , am I glad that’s over with. What a horrible thing to go
through. Do you think you’ll be all right?”
“I have to leave,” I say .
Mikey looks perplexed.
“I need to go on a journey .”
“Y ou’re leaving me?”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“What do you mean, you don’t have a choice?” He stands
there in his boxer shorts with tears in his eyes. “I could go with
you. We can start our life somewhere new .”
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I shake my head. “I have to go alone. It’s a journey of self-
discovery , and I can’t do that with you.”
“Why do you have to go?”
“You don’t get it, do you. I abandoned her. I left her alone
when she needed me most. And after I told her I’d be there
through everything…”
“This is about self-sacrifice? Don’t you realize that you’re
hurting me too?”
“I have to go.” I get up and open drawers, removing my
belongings and placing them in a bag.
“Right now? You’re just going to up and leave because
you’re too fucked-up to realize it wasn’t your fault.”
“Oh, but it was my fault. She needed me and I wasn’t there
for her.”
“ And now you have to leave me too? What if I killed myself?”
“I killed someone. Don’t you get that?”
“Y ou did not!”
“I have to get out of here; I can’t breathe. I’m really sorry,
Michael. It’s fate or karma or whatever you want to call it. I
left her and now I have to leave you.”
“Don’t go. Your problems won’t go away just because you
do. Please, Sarah, don’t leave me too. Stacey’s dead and I need
you now , like she needed you then. Don’t do it again.”
His cheeks are washed in tears.
“Where are you going to go?”
“I don’t know .”
“How are you going to survive on your own?”
“I don’t know . I just know I have to do this.”
“Please don’t leave me. I love you.”
My heart pounds as it always does when he speaks those
words. My lips tremble and tears come to my eyes.
“Don’t make this any harder than it already is.”
I push past him out of his room and he calls after me, but I
ignore him.
“Sarah.”
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I run down the street with his voice still in my ears. When
I’m far enough away I succumb to the seemingly endless flow
of tears. A train blares its faraway horn, giving me a way out, a
chance to redeem myself by following my heart.
Without my journey I am nothing, sing the wheels of the
train as they push closer on the track. More and more of my
insides are consumed by the flutter in my stomach with each
step I take.
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EPILOGUE
By the time I could bring myself to leave the apartment, my
car had run out of gas. As I walked down the same streets I
had once walked with Stacey , the wind died down a little, but
the sky remained grey . My heels crunched through orange and
red leaves all the way to the gas station, which was just around
the corner from the old place. When I left B.C. four days ago,
lawns were still green and the air was perfect for shorts and a
T-shirt.
Once I had walked back to my car and put gas in the tank, I
peeled out of that driveway and bombed down the roads. I
drove circles around the block next to my parents’ house.
Somehow the bracelet had found its way back to my wrist. A
thick thirst formed in my throat, and my brain longed for
drowned memories, but I suppressed the urge and forced
myself to drive on. Still unable to face him, I turned left and
headed toward the beach.
The beach in Brockville is more of a parking lot than a
beach. During the day, it is filled with people sitting in their
cars, staring at the water in a search for solace from their jobs.
The night attracts teenagers in their customized cars, laughing
and drinking or smoking pot. Not many people get out of
their cars to walk through the sand.
I parked between two lunchers, neither of whom looked my
way. The wind took over the lake, creating waves that trans-
formed it into an ocean. Seagulls fought over garbage. Even
without the impervious mountains, or the salt on my tongue,
just closing my eyes took me back to Vancouver, far away from
my parents and Stacey’s grave. I tried to imagine what seeing
my parents again would be like, but came up blank.
A knock on the windshield brought me back to my home-
town. Mikey smiled at me.
“Sarah, I can’t believe it’s you,” he said through my partially
rolled-down window .
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“Oh my God, look at you. You look great.” I opened my
door and hugged him. “How are you? What have you been
doing with yourself?”
“I’m great. My kids and wife are keeping me pretty busy .”
As he continued on about his family , I had to chuckle under
my breath. I hadn’t really expected to find him still mourning
my departure, but hearing how happy he was made my life
seem even worse.
Mikey looked at the ground. “How’ve you been? Not so
good, huh?”
“Oh, I’ve been okay .” Then I realized he was talking about
my eye. “Oh, that. Just a mistake I left back in Vancouver.”
“So that’s where you took off to. What have you been doing
way over there?”
“Waitressing, mostly .”
“That’s great.”
“ And how about you, what do you do?”
“I’m a computer programmer.”
“Wow , just what you wanted to be. That’s great.”
“So, what brought you back to our little town?”
I pointed to my black eye. “This, mostly . And I wanted to
see my parents.”
“How is everything between you guys? Last time I saw you,
they weren’t so good.”
“They still aren’t. I guess it’s just one of those things. Some-
body once told me that problems don’t go away just because
you do.”
Mikey smiled. “You want to sit with me while I eat my
lunch?”
“Sure.” I followed him to a picnic table.
“Do you have any kids?”
“No, not yet. I guess I just haven’t found the right guy .”
We sat in silence. Mikey offered me half of his sandwich,
but I refused.
“I know it’s a little late, and it looks like everything worked
out for you anyway , but I have to tell you I’m sorry ,” I said.
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He looked up and shook his head. “Y ou don’t have to.”
“Y es, I do. What I did to you was terrible. It’s the same thing
that killed Stacey .”
“Y ou still think it was your fault? What a thing to be carry-
ing around all these years.”
“It was my fault. She needed me, and I was never there for
her. Not in the beginning when she thought she needed to leave
Wes, not when she had her abortion, and not when she practi-
cally told me that she had just taken too many drugs. I’m
unable to handle other people’s needs. I get scared and end up
running away .”
“She wasn’t able to deal with her own problems; how could
she have expected you to? How could you expect to?”
“I know. That’s why we were perfect for each other.” I bit
my lip. “I went to visit her grave today .”
“I do that sometimes.”
“Before she went into the room that night, she told me that I
was always there for her. She was just trying to help me get out
of the guilt for not being the friend I should have been to her.
Always there for me, even when she was in the middle of
killing herself. Do you see why I can’t forgive myself?”
“Y ou have to believe that you did the best you could. Holding
onto this guilt won’t bring her back. It won’t, and all it does is
hurt you. I think you have to get over your guilt before you can
move on with your life. That means facing it, not running
away .”
“I guess that’s why I came back. Oh, Mikey, if only I had
stayed with you, my life would be so different now .”
“Y ou had to do it on your own. Everyone does. I’ve believed
in fate for a long time. Certain things are just supposed to hap-
pen, and there’s not much anyone can do about it. We can
delay fate, even trick it for a while, but it will always come
back to us in the end.”
“It must be my fate to confront my father, because that’s
what I am about to do. But I’m afraid that he’ll just throw me
out of his house.”
“ All you can do is try .”
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“I don’t think I can handle that.”
“What are you going to say to him?”
“I have to know why my own father doesn’t love me.” I
blinked back tears.
“What makes you think he doesn’t love you?”
“Like you don’t know? You were with me when he handed
me a cheque and told me to stay away .”
“Sarah, he probably regrets that now. I’m sure he loves you
and he just doesn’t have the best way of showing it.”
“Calling me a whore isn’t even a good way to show it.”
“Parents make mistakes.”
“What kind of a mistake is that?”
“Listen, I’m not trying to side with your father, I’m just try-
ing to tell you that parents love their children, no matter what.
Y ou’ll understand that more when you’re a parent yourself.”
“I still don’t see how my father has shown me love at all.
And what bothers me the most is that it bothers me. Why do I
have to be so hung-up over a guy who doesn’t even love me?
Why does it all come back to him?”
“It’s the wonderful bond between children and their parents.
It’s very hard to untangle ourselves from that bond, but at
some point we have to learn to live for ourselves, not our par-
ents.”
“What are you, a shrink or something?”
“No, I’m just speaking from experience. My father died six
years ago, so I had to learn the hard way how to live for myself.
And I didn’t even realize I was doing it until a long time after
his death.”
“Oh Mikey , I’m so sorry . That must have been hard.”
“It was, and I still miss him terribly, but I learned to deal
with it.”
“Maybe I should pretend he’s dead.”
“Y ou need to do what you can to reconcile while he’s living.
Trust me, you’ll feel the same way when your father does die,
whether you’re getting along or not.”
“But I’m so mad at him. How could he treat his own daugh-
ter that way?”
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“Parents are only human. They can only do the best they
can.”
“ And if their best isn’t good enough?”
“Is it ever?”
“I don’t know. How do I let go of all this anger? It’s some-
thing that’s been with me for so long now .”
“Maybe when you confront him you can start to work things
out. Y our anger won’t go away in a day , but you have to forgive
him for what he’s done.”
“There’s no way I’m forgiving my father. He doesn’t deserve
that.”
“But you do.”
I glanced at the lake for comfort.
“Hey , whatever happened to Wes? Do you still talk to him?”
“Well, he’s still in jail, as far as I know. I haven’t talked to
him in years, though, but I’m pretty sure he’s still in there.”
“What could they possibly be using to hold him in there for
so long?”
“Last time I spoke with him he told me he’d killed an inmate
in the shower. They moved him to the maximum security
prison just a few towns over, and I think his sentence was
fifteen-to-life or something.”
“Oh my God. Poor Wes.”
Mikey opened his mouth as if to speak, but thought better
of it and looked at his watch instead.
“I have to get back to work. Are you going to be okay?”
“Y es, I think so. At least I hope so.”
“Tell me you got rid of this guy ,” he said, pointing to my eye.
My fingertips flitted to my cheek and by the time I was able
to pull my vision from the ground, I knew exactly why our
relationship had meant so much to me. “I really should have
stayed with you, Mikey . You were the only guy who ever saw
me for who I really was.”
Those eyes that had haunted my drunken nightmares
revealed a glimmer of the past. “I saw you because you showed
me.”
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We were falling into yesterday until Mikey averted his gaze,
red creeping into his cheeks. He cleared his throat.
“How long are you staying in town?”
“I’m not sure. Not too long, I don’t think.”
“Why don’t you give me a call? I think you would love my
wife.”
I gave into my masochistic craving for comparison. “Tell me
about her, Mikey . I want to know what kind of woman finally
stole your heart for good.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know , she’s just great.”
“One of those, eh?”
“Y eah.”
“Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer one day. We’ll get
together and play Y ahtzee.”
He smiled, but seemed at a loss for words. He waved, and as
I watched him walk away , a desire to turn back time welled up
in my stomach. What a stupid little girl I had been to think
walking away had given me the power. I wanted to be sixteen
again, to feel safe and loved by Wes, Stace, and Mikey . I would
have traded my life for Stacey’s if at that moment I could have
lifted up the blanket of time and crawled to the sweet centre of
ignorance. But I was past that and it was something I could
never go back to. It only takes having the base of your skull
cracked open against a bathroom sink once, to make you real-
ize that the power has never been with the one who used sex in
the barter for self-esteem.
Still fingering the bracelet, I pulled up in front of their house
and parked my car. The house looked exactly as it had when I
left. I took a deep breath and walked up the path. At the front
door I stopped. My fear wouldn’t allow me to go any farther.
But my mother must have seen me, because the door flew open
and there she was.
My mother had aged in the past seven years. Her once
brown hair, now grey , only accentuated the crow’s feet around
her eyes and sagging jawline. She wore glasses around her
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neck. But I noticed she still smelled the same as she gathered
me up in her arms and kissed the top of my head.
“Sarah, what a nice surprise. It’s so good to see you. It’s
been too long. Let me take a look at you.”
She held me at arm’s length.
“Oh dear. Are you okay?”
“Y es, I’m fine now .”
“I’m so glad. Come in, come in.”
I stepped into the house, noticing the distinct absence of
Jack Daniel’s aroma.
“Doris, who’s that at the door?”
My heart stopped as my father walked into the front hall.
He had gained some weight and lost some hair. His face was
pale and pinched.
“Hi, Daddy .”
He walked closer to me, inspecting me with critical eyes.
“What’s that on your face?”
“Not now , dear,” said my mom.
“No, really .” He looked at me with disgust. “She shows up
after this long with the same trashy black eye she had when she
was a kid. Y ou’re hanging around sleaze still, huh? Well, that’s
what you get. I’m surprised you’ve managed to stay alive all
these years.”
“Y ou wanna know how I stayed alive?”
He raised his eyebrows, waiting, as though he expected
some ridiculous tale full of gibberish.
“I snuck out in the middle of the night like a fucking draft
dodger.” My lips quivered with the promise of tears, but I per-
severed. “I had to plan my escape carefully because I knew if
he caught me he would kill me. I figured that out after he
smashed my head off a bathroom sink. So I planned and acted
as though nothing were wrong, playing the happy little girl-
friend to that sick fucking bastard. I cooked his food, poured
his drinks, and rubbed his back, all the while so afraid to even
think about what I was planning to do in case he somehow
learned to read my thoughts. I didn’t have to wait long for a
night when he was passed out cold from being so wasted. I
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grabbed what I could in a hurry and coasted down the drive-
way until I was far enough away to turn the engine over. Even
then, I was afraid to make any noise, and the whole drive here
I expected him to show up in my rear-view mirror.”
He didn’t say anything, but now he wouldn’t look into my
eyes, as a challenge or otherwise. I stared at the top of his bald
head for a minute, waiting for any sign of a response. He gave
me nothing. His refusal to face me made me so angry .
“Yeah, Dad, I’ve fucked up a lot in my life. I’ve done so
many things I wish I could take back. But does that give you a
right to stop loving me?”
He looked at me without emotion as he stood perfectly still
with his hands behind his back. “Do you have anything else to
say?”
I reached into my pocket and held my closed fist toward
him. “Take it, I don’t need this anymore.”
My father looked down at the tiny bracelet, back up at me
with those dead eyes, and walked out of the room.
“Sweetheart…” my mom started.
“Don’t bother, I’m fine.” I shook off her attempted
embrace, suddenly hating her for the way she allowed him to
treat me. I lit a smoke to calm my nerves and told her what she
wanted to hear. “Everything is okay .”
“Y ou know he loves you.”
“I love him too.”
“Your father just doesn’t know how to show it, that’s all.
You know men; they aren’t good at expressing their feelings,
and when you became a woman he didn’t know what to do
with you. Please know that he doesn’t mean the things he
says.”
“I know , Mom, I know .”
I turned to open the door and she reached out to touch my
shoulder. She seemed frail as she looked deep into my eyes.
“I was a good mother, wasn’t I?”
I was shocked at how easily I had ignored her humanness
and how one second had brought it all into view .
“I mean, I know I made mistakes too. One of the things I’ve
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most regretted was not telling you how much you have to offer
besides your sexuality. I should have taught you more about
what it means to be a woman. But do you think I did the best I
could despite all of that?”
“Y es.” It didn’t even seem like a lie as I looked into her obvi-
ous need.
She smiled, letting the edges of her lips curl upward slightly ,
not sure if she could allow one word to erase all her doubts,
but wanting to anyway , the way she always had. She rubbed my
arm and let her hand fall loose against her side, then tucked
her fingers into her armpit and leaned against the door frame.
“Where are you going now?”
“Just down the street.”
“How long are you staying?”
“Well, I think I’ll be here for a while. There are a lot of
things I have to figure out and I can’t do that anywhere else.”
“That’s great. We can see each other more often now .”
“Yeah, that would be great.” I smiled at her. “I’m going to
get myself settled in somewhere.”
“Are you sure you’ll be okay?”
“Y es, I know I will be now .”
“Y ou know I’m here for you if you need me.”
“I know .”
“I love you, Sarah.”
“I love you too, Mom.”
I flicked my half-smoked cigarette on their lawn.
As I drove down the street, I wondered why my mom had done
the things she did, if she regretted them. Then I thought of all
the things I regretted. My vision blurred and I pulled off to the
side of the road. Sitting with my hands on the steering wheel, I
let out the pain that came with knowing my dad wouldn’t be
so easy to lie to. Every part of me wanted to drive far away , but
there was a nagging voice in my heart telling me that Mikey
was right. What I would accomplish by staying, I didn’t know .
The way my father stood there so distant from my pain, with
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no sign of love for me at all, showed he had no intention of
welcoming me back into his life. His ability to separate himself
from me so easily, even when I was right there in front of his
face, gnawed at the lining of my stomach. I feared what was to
come, but I knew that no number of kilometres would kill that
fear.
I drove around Brockville contemplating the streets and
buildings while they all tried to pull me in with their knowl-
edge of a sixteen-year-old Sarah. After driving in circles for
hours, I finally settled on a place that held secrets unattainable
from the outside. The motel had a different name and decor,
but as I stepped up to the counter, the smell took me back to a
time, before my relationship with Mikey, that I had never
intended to remember.
Heavy drapes are shut against the orange glow of streetlights. I
sit cross-legged in an easy chair drawing smoke into my lungs
and the smell of sex in through my nose. I allow our scent to
mingle with all those who have been here before us.
He comes up behind me still naked and pulls the cigarette
from my fingers.
“Y ou used to be so prissy about sex.”
I light another smoke, pushing the first drag out with my
tongue in response. I think of Stacey and what she would say
about my slip.
“I told you I always get what I want,” he says.
“Y eah, and I told you that you wanted to sleep with me.”
“It could have been like this from the start.”
I turn to face him. “Y ou never hit any of the other girls, did
you.”
Duncan laughs. “Don’t flatter yourself, Sarah. You weren’t
the only one. It’s just different when you’re not in a relation-
ship.”
I start to get dressed, struggling to pull my jeans up and
hold a smoke. “I’m getting rye.”
Duncan grabs my wrist and squeezes it hard. My horror
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grows as I watch his eyes fall flat of any human emotion other
than determination. When he releases the grip, his face is
creeping into a smile.
“There’s the Sarah I know .”
I throw my shirt on without buttoning my jeans, grab my
purse, and leave.
The memory ended, and I sat on a bed in another room within
the same building, years after that slip. I curled my knees into
my chest. I twisted a strand of hair around my finger, looking
for something to fiddle with now that my bracelet was gone.
My face was looking at me from a mirror above the desk and I
held my gaze.
From that distance it almost looked like there was a slight
change in my eyes, as though something had altered the pat-
tern in my irises. I crawled off the bed, watching for any
change as I got closer, got right up next to the chair, pushed it
out of the way, and climbed onto the desk. I sat cross-legged
before the glass. At this proximity the black eye couldn’t pass
for smudged mascara or one sleepless night. My eyes had not
transformed, though I felt my knowledge like an extra layer on
my bones.
Here I am in the same motel where I let Duncan make me feel
like nothing. I came back and I haven’t run away . I don’t have
anything or know where I’m going, but at this very moment I
don’t feel like nothing. From my cigarette pack I pull out a
joint, light it, and take a few deep drags. After some minutes,
my eyes are narrowed and the drug has loosened my tight lips
into a lopsided smile. I tap the joint on the mirror against its
reflection.
“Here’s to you, Stace.”
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