Kimmy, in her coffin.
'Angie, see him.' I wanted her to see her father in
pain, but more than that I wanted her to see him in terror. The kind of terror
he'd inflicted on her since she was a child.
'Angie, see him ...' She froze. I think she understood.
I took the shooter and aimed it at Patto, but couldn't pull the trigger. I
threw the gun down, it was too easy a way out for him.
'You dirty fucking bastard, your own daughter, how could
you ...? Your own daughter. How? You fucking animal.'
I knew the words I wanted to say, they came easily. They
were the same words I'd wanted to say to my own father when Kimmy died; before
he took the easy way out to avoid the back-lash.
'You dirty bastard, you dirty fucking bastard ... your
own daughter.'
I was crying. I could see the tears falling on Patto's
chest. The look on his face was defiant though, he couldn't care what he'd
done.
He smiled, laughed at me, 'You dumb bastard ... the hoor
loved every minute of it!'
I couldn't move as the Mossberg went off behind me.
I felt my ears ring.
One side of me went numb.
I turned to see Angie holding the gun. She was
motionless.
Her face was cold, firm.
Dark blood pooled on the floor under Patto's groin.
Enough
of This Shit Already
Shopping is, like, my way of
getting over Steve ... until the meds kick in anyway.
I'd been to Wal-Mart buying stuff I don ' t need or want — picked up my fourth pair of Ugg boots for Chrissakes — had them under my arm as Brad Johnson squeezes beside me in the elevator to
math class, starts his shit again.
'Been trappin' ?'
he says, leaning in close enough to let me know he ' d sprung for a second chilli-dog at lunch.
'Excuse me.'
'What Dad calls it when my mom comes
back all bagged up like a fur trapper,' a laugh on his last word, like, for no
reason. This jock shit has me weirded out, but I' ve got
good cause.
The elevator jolts and Brad rocks
forward on the heels of his Nike Airs. I get a feel of his semi and I ' m thinking, whoa ... that stuff about me
putting out is such fiction already. But my heart ' s racing. Pounding and pounding because this is my first day back
after ... The Incident. Brad and I haven ' t even spoken about The Incident.
'This is my floor!' I say, edging away
real fast, I' m sweating, shit, this is too full-on.
'Your floor, my floor ... I don' t mind one bit!'
That ' s not even funny. Six weeks past, at Trish Jacob ' s party, Steve caught Brad on top of me,
doing stuff. I was way out of it, can ' t remember a Goddamn thing. But Steve and me are so over now. And
Brad, I just feel way too strange around him. Real strange.
I ' m shaking as I turn to push the button and he smiles at me, moves in
close, all slimy-like. In the polished elevator door I see him eyeing my ass,
pursing his lips and flicking out his tongue like a snake or a lizard or
something. It ' s all for his
jock buddies, they high-five, and I want to hurl. No shit, I want to throw
chunks here and now.
Brad ' s hot hands grab my hips, pull me back. His semi feels more like a
hard-on now. I can ' t move, I
want to say something but I ' m
too choked, what a wimp-out!
'You remember this, Alana?' he says,
smiling, laughing.
My heart goes from flat-out to stopped
in a second. I feel chills all over me. But I remember nothing.
Ding !
The elevator stops — a judder passes through me.
I shake off Brad ' s hands and run out.
I'm in such a rush I nearly drop my new
Ugg boots.
****
'Hey, someone' s been to the stores, let ' s see,' says Louisa. She comes running over and takes my bag with
the boots, 'Oh my God, Alana, these are so awesome!'
I ' m too pissed to respond, my heart is, like, racing as I think of
Brad and his buddies laughing at me. What the hell were they saying?
'What the fuck is this?' cries out
Louisa, she holds up a little white box I took from the pharmacy. I mean took ,
I'd never stole before but I couldn' t bring myself to
buy it. I ' m acting real strange
since The Incident.
I
'Angie, see him.' I wanted her to see her father in
pain, but more than that I wanted her to see him in terror. The kind of terror
he'd inflicted on her since she was a child.
'Angie, see him ...' She froze. I think she understood.
I took the shooter and aimed it at Patto, but couldn't pull the trigger. I
threw the gun down, it was too easy a way out for him.
'You dirty fucking bastard, your own daughter, how could
you ...? Your own daughter. How? You fucking animal.'
I knew the words I wanted to say, they came easily. They
were the same words I'd wanted to say to my own father when Kimmy died; before
he took the easy way out to avoid the back-lash.
'You dirty bastard, you dirty fucking bastard ... your
own daughter.'
I was crying. I could see the tears falling on Patto's
chest. The look on his face was defiant though, he couldn't care what he'd
done.
He smiled, laughed at me, 'You dumb bastard ... the hoor
loved every minute of it!'
I couldn't move as the Mossberg went off behind me.
I felt my ears ring.
One side of me went numb.
I turned to see Angie holding the gun. She was
motionless.
Her face was cold, firm.
Dark blood pooled on the floor under Patto's groin.
Enough
of This Shit Already
Shopping is, like, my way of
getting over Steve ... until the meds kick in anyway.
I'd been to Wal-Mart buying stuff I don ' t need or want — picked up my fourth pair of Ugg boots for Chrissakes — had them under my arm as Brad Johnson squeezes beside me in the elevator to
math class, starts his shit again.
'Been trappin' ?'
he says, leaning in close enough to let me know he ' d sprung for a second chilli-dog at lunch.
'Excuse me.'
'What Dad calls it when my mom comes
back all bagged up like a fur trapper,' a laugh on his last word, like, for no
reason. This jock shit has me weirded out, but I' ve got
good cause.
The elevator jolts and Brad rocks
forward on the heels of his Nike Airs. I get a feel of his semi and I ' m thinking, whoa ... that stuff about me
putting out is such fiction already. But my heart ' s racing. Pounding and pounding because this is my first day back
after ... The Incident. Brad and I haven ' t even spoken about The Incident.
'This is my floor!' I say, edging away
real fast, I' m sweating, shit, this is too full-on.
'Your floor, my floor ... I don' t mind one bit!'
That ' s not even funny. Six weeks past, at Trish Jacob ' s party, Steve caught Brad on top of me,
doing stuff. I was way out of it, can ' t remember a Goddamn thing. But Steve and me are so over now. And
Brad, I just feel way too strange around him. Real strange.
I ' m shaking as I turn to push the button and he smiles at me, moves in
close, all slimy-like. In the polished elevator door I see him eyeing my ass,
pursing his lips and flicking out his tongue like a snake or a lizard or
something. It ' s all for his
jock buddies, they high-five, and I want to hurl. No shit, I want to throw
chunks here and now.
Brad ' s hot hands grab my hips, pull me back. His semi feels more like a
hard-on now. I can ' t move, I
want to say something but I ' m
too choked, what a wimp-out!
'You remember this, Alana?' he says,
smiling, laughing.
My heart goes from flat-out to stopped
in a second. I feel chills all over me. But I remember nothing.
Ding !
The elevator stops — a judder passes through me.
I shake off Brad ' s hands and run out.
I'm in such a rush I nearly drop my new
Ugg boots.
****
'Hey, someone' s been to the stores, let ' s see,' says Louisa. She comes running over and takes my bag with
the boots, 'Oh my God, Alana, these are so awesome!'
I ' m too pissed to respond, my heart is, like, racing as I think of
Brad and his buddies laughing at me. What the hell were they saying?
'What the fuck is this?' cries out
Louisa, she holds up a little white box I took from the pharmacy. I mean took ,
I'd never stole before but I couldn' t bring myself to
buy it. I ' m acting real strange
since The Incident.
I
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