Chapter 11

She waits until I hand it back to my mom and gets further away before she returns to her safe spot, and my eyes are instantly drawn back to her. Like an itch, I have to keep scratching, making me feel like a weird stalker. Even without conversation or eye contact, I want to know her. I want to know her story, how she got here, or if she’s staying. I wonder if this is the kid Jake mentioned in passing when he called me a couple of months back and swallow hard.

I hope not. He said she was a runaway, on the streets, from a lifetime of physical, mental, and sexual abuse at her own father’s hands and had found her way to some sort of hostel alone. If she is the same kid… Fuck.

I glance her over again and can’t see the connection. I imagined that girl would be skinny, malnourished, closed tight, jumpy, and obvious about her pain. Like most of the kids, my mom helped. This one is nothing like that. You have to look a hell of a lot deeper to see it. I only do because I’ve spent