Chapter 1
Slender, cold fingers pluck one of my earbuds out. “Straight home after school.”
“Yes, mother,” I groan, not bothering to look at her. She kisses the top of my head, and I shrink away from her touch. It’s not that I don’t love my mother. I do. There are just some things that alter your perception of people. Once you know their dirty truth, there is no going back with them. I carry my mother’s guilt—her sins are with me every day…I suppose that makes me a hypocrite, considering I have guilt and sins of my own.
She sticks my bud back in my ear, and I continue to slurp the last of the milk circling the bottom of my cereal bowl. I shiver as I get the last drop. The past year has been rough. The heating in our old house isn’t that great. I taped a trash bag over my bedroom window to try to keep some of the draft away.
We can’t afford my getting sick again. Two years ago, I came down with pneumonia and spent a very dull week in the hospital. My mom, she missed a lot of work, so she could sit at my bedside and paint my toenails pink. I hate pink. I think she did it trying to get a rise out of me, but I begged her to go home. Honestly, I think she was there because my doctor was young and hot. And well…my mother, she never passes up a chance to flirt with a good-looking man, especially one who has money.
No one knows what my home life is like. I lie to everyone. I tell my friends that my mother is only a waitress at the local diner. The lie is much easier than the truth. My mother doesn’t only work the normal nine to five at the diner…she turns tricks on the side. My mother is a glorified prostitute. Classy, right? I hate it.
My mom didn’t grow up dreaming of being a hooker. She said that men were going to take that piece of her regardless. She might as well be paid for it.
She says to me, ‘Katie, I do everything I do, because that’s how much I love you.’
Have you ever had someone love you so much that you feel like you can’t come up for air? That is how much my mother loves me, although I’m the product of rape. Her love is suffocating—being loved is just like being suffocated.
My mother has never told me who my father was or is. I can’t imagine how hard it was for her to make the choice to raise me, but she did. I love her for loving me that much, but some days it is so overwhelming.
Our home is far from fancy, we live on the rougher side of the train tracks. Most of our furniture is hand me downs from friends. I babysit on the weekends for cash to get what I need for school, but it barely covers my supplies. We really can’t afford the rent here, even with government assistance, but mom has a deal worked out with the landlord, or as I call him, the slumlord. What kind of deal do they have? I don’t want to know.
My mother lights up her cigarette, adding to the already stale smell of smoke and liquor. I hate going to school smelling like a bar.
I place my bowl in the sink and slip my hoodie on over my t-shirt. Then I grab my black faded messenger bag I scored at the missionary for free last week after tucking my iPhone inside. I feel naked whenever I forget it. The only reason I have my phone is because it’s Penny’s old one. I just have to pay my bill. I do one of those prepay monthly deals. I would never be able to afford it otherwise.
I’m not big into church, but I love gospel music and singing with the choir. I started going to church because when my mom gets angry with me she calls me an abomination, and I wanted God to know that I’m not something bore from hate. I try so hard to be a good person. It may be weird to some but church is where I go on evenings I know my mom has a ‘date’. I am always afraid one of her clients will think they can have me as well. It’s safer if I’m not home.
Our neighbors probably think that my mother is a drug dealer with all the men who come and go throughout the week. But then again, the old woman next door can hardly hear or see, so she probably doesn’t even notice.
I wave at Mrs. Jennings as I shut the front gate to our yard.
“Have you seen Percy?” She asks, standing by the edge of the chain-link fence that divides our yards. Percy is one of her many cats. Yes, I live next to a crazy cat lady.
“No, he is probably somewhere getting warm, Deloris.” I have to speak louder than I would like, but if I don’t practically yell in her face, she won’t hear a word I say. Percy probably threw himself into oncoming traffic. The woman is really sweet, but if she talks Percy’s ear off as much as she does mine, then there is a good chance he has ran away. I say goodbye, making a promise to come over for dinner later this week. I know she is lonely. I go
over and check on her when I can, or when I need to get away from my mom. I have spent many nights eating with Mrs. Jennings, well Deloris. She takes offense if I call her Mrs. She has been like the grandma I never knew I wanted.
Two blocks over, Becks, short for Beckett, is waiting for me. Becks is my best friend, and if it wasn’t for him, I probably would have died of starvation in middle school. We met in the fifth grade when his family moved here from South Carolina. He’s wearing a huge grin on his face as he reaches me a Styrofoam cup of caramel vanilla goodness. He lives next to the Grab ‘N Go, so he always treats me when he can. He is always spoiling me with little surprises.
Becks is in that awkward stage of growing still. His head is too big for his skinny frame. I tease him that one day his head will shrink to match the rest of him. Don’t get me wrong, he is cute enough, but he’s my Becks. I could never look at him any other way than my best friend.
“You’re the best.” I poke him in the rib and he jumps. I laugh at how ticklish he is.
Becks lives four blocks away from me, so we meet in the middle every school morning to walk with Penny. I think he has a thing for Penny, but he would never admit it willingly. Penny is my other best friend. She lives closer to our high school, so we get hooked up with her on the way after we meet.
Penny also dates Aaron Carver, the most popular guy in school. Aaron doesn’t care for Becks, but he tolerates him for Penny. His father is a deacon at my church. We met in choir the summer before ninth grade when his father was transferred to serve here.
Penny was love struck the first time she seen him when she attended a program I was singing in. I didn’t have the heart to tell her he took my virginity on a church trip in the back of a bus the summer before ninth grade. I pretend it never happened, and Aaron has treated me like shit ever since. Well, when Penny isn’t around.
Every girl in school and most guys thinks he is something because he’s captain of the basketball team. Even the other senior girls chase after him, and they normally go after older boys—college guys, or the coal miners. Needless to say, we make up an interesting group.
We’re presently a few weeks away from spring break. I usually spend most of break helping asshole Aaron and his dad at the mission. They are always in need of donations and volunteers. I am not looking forward to working with Aaron, especially since Penny won’t be with us because she is going with her family to visit her Grandma in Virginia. Becks said he would try to help, but knowing him, he will try to weasel out of it, so I am thinking of bailing on it all together. Aaron is pushy and always expects to get what he wants.
We weave in and out of the morning traffic, finally reaching Penny’s house. She’s dressed warmly in her favorite red pea coat. Penny has the best of everything: best clothes, best parents, nice home. Need I go on? She tugs her beret down over her wheat colored hair. One great thing about being friends with Penny is when she gets tired of something, she gives it to me. The girl has a makeup fetish and is constantly giving me lipstick and eye shadow once she decides she hates it. We have been best friends since third grade when we bonded over our love of the Jonas Brothers. Not so much in love with them now, but hey, it was third grade.