stirring up, the noise in my head, but then I went to a hard place, an angry place where I wondered how he could talk about such trivial things when I’d lost what was probably my last chance at freedom, when Nicole’s murderer was still out there. How could he move on like this? When I was in high school it felt like we weren’t in the same world—now it felt like we weren’t even in the same universe.
“I’ll try to come back next month, okay, honey?” he said at the end of the visit. “Your grandma wants to come next time.”
I thought of my grandma with her aching legs and varicose veins, traveling hours to see her granddaughter in jail. She was the only grandparent I had left—my dad’s mother—and we’d been close when I was growing up. I’d spend weekends at her house, and she taught me how to make pierogies. She’d come to the trial, her head shaking at any negative testimony, her face determined and angry. She told me she knew I couldn’t have done it and had written me a few times in prison. But I was scared to think that might have changed for her.
“You don’t have to do that, Dad.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s expensive and it’s a long trip. You work hard all week—and Grandma, she’d be sore, sitting all day in a truck. I don’t want to do that to her.”
“Hey, don’t worry about us, okay? We want to support you any way we can, and we miss you.” I imagined him going home alone, Mom and him having dinner. Did they talk? Or did she give him the silent treatment for visiting me, for betraying Nicole?
“Dad, it means a lot that you’ve been coming, but it’s really hard on me too—reminds me of everything, you know? And I get homesick. I can’t do any visits for a while. We can write and stuff, but right now I need to get used to life in here, okay?”
“Okay.” He nodded but he was blinking back tears. I was crying too.
“Don’t cry, Dad. It will be better for us, I think—and for Mom.”
He met my eyes and gave a sad smile. This time I didn’t wait to watch him walk away. I got up first and went back to the guards, back to my cell, back to hell. I had done it. I’d pushed away the last family member who cared about me.
CHAPTER SIX
W OODBRIDGE H IGH , C AMPBELL R IVER
J ANUARY 1996
Monday after the party, I headed out to the parking lot at lunch to wait for Ryan. A car drove past me with some kids I knew from school. I was about to wave hello but only got my hand up partway when I noticed that they were all looking at me and laughing about something. What was their problem? I dropped my hand and kept walking to Ryan’s truck, trying to convince myself that I was imagining things—they were probably laughing about something else. Then I noticed what someone had written in the mud on Ryan’s tailgate:
My girlfriend is a dirty slut. She gave Jason Leroy a blow job in ninth grade.
I was frantically trying to wipe it off when Ryan came out.
“Shit,” he said when he saw it.
“It had to be Shauna.” I studied his face, worried. It was bad enough I’d fooled around with Jason, but he’d gotten into drugs the last two years and been suspended a couple of times, plus he hung out with the skankiest girls.
Ryan did look furious, but his anger wasn’t aimed at me.
“If I catch her doing that again, she’s going to have to deal with me.”
“What are you going to do?” I felt relieved but was still shaken up by Shauna’s crude message.
“I’ll figure out some way to embarrass her. I know a few guys who’ve messed around with her.” He looked at my face, saw how upset I was, and said, “Don’t worry about it, babe. No one probably saw it.”
He pulled me in for a hug. But I knew they had seen it. Over his shoulder I noticed some kids by their car looking at us and laughing. Ryan heard them and turned around, his shoulders squared.
“You got a problem, assholes?”
They shut up, one of the guys holding his hands out in a
“I’ll try to come back next month, okay, honey?” he said at the end of the visit. “Your grandma wants to come next time.”
I thought of my grandma with her aching legs and varicose veins, traveling hours to see her granddaughter in jail. She was the only grandparent I had left—my dad’s mother—and we’d been close when I was growing up. I’d spend weekends at her house, and she taught me how to make pierogies. She’d come to the trial, her head shaking at any negative testimony, her face determined and angry. She told me she knew I couldn’t have done it and had written me a few times in prison. But I was scared to think that might have changed for her.
“You don’t have to do that, Dad.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s expensive and it’s a long trip. You work hard all week—and Grandma, she’d be sore, sitting all day in a truck. I don’t want to do that to her.”
“Hey, don’t worry about us, okay? We want to support you any way we can, and we miss you.” I imagined him going home alone, Mom and him having dinner. Did they talk? Or did she give him the silent treatment for visiting me, for betraying Nicole?
“Dad, it means a lot that you’ve been coming, but it’s really hard on me too—reminds me of everything, you know? And I get homesick. I can’t do any visits for a while. We can write and stuff, but right now I need to get used to life in here, okay?”
“Okay.” He nodded but he was blinking back tears. I was crying too.
“Don’t cry, Dad. It will be better for us, I think—and for Mom.”
He met my eyes and gave a sad smile. This time I didn’t wait to watch him walk away. I got up first and went back to the guards, back to my cell, back to hell. I had done it. I’d pushed away the last family member who cared about me.
CHAPTER SIX
W OODBRIDGE H IGH , C AMPBELL R IVER
J ANUARY 1996
Monday after the party, I headed out to the parking lot at lunch to wait for Ryan. A car drove past me with some kids I knew from school. I was about to wave hello but only got my hand up partway when I noticed that they were all looking at me and laughing about something. What was their problem? I dropped my hand and kept walking to Ryan’s truck, trying to convince myself that I was imagining things—they were probably laughing about something else. Then I noticed what someone had written in the mud on Ryan’s tailgate:
My girlfriend is a dirty slut. She gave Jason Leroy a blow job in ninth grade.
I was frantically trying to wipe it off when Ryan came out.
“Shit,” he said when he saw it.
“It had to be Shauna.” I studied his face, worried. It was bad enough I’d fooled around with Jason, but he’d gotten into drugs the last two years and been suspended a couple of times, plus he hung out with the skankiest girls.
Ryan did look furious, but his anger wasn’t aimed at me.
“If I catch her doing that again, she’s going to have to deal with me.”
“What are you going to do?” I felt relieved but was still shaken up by Shauna’s crude message.
“I’ll figure out some way to embarrass her. I know a few guys who’ve messed around with her.” He looked at my face, saw how upset I was, and said, “Don’t worry about it, babe. No one probably saw it.”
He pulled me in for a hug. But I knew they had seen it. Over his shoulder I noticed some kids by their car looking at us and laughing. Ryan heard them and turned around, his shoulders squared.
“You got a problem, assholes?”
They shut up, one of the guys holding his hands out in a
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