I take two steps at a time until I get to the bedroom I share with the other girls. Watching out the window I see Rick walking his bike home with one hand. His other is cradled against his chest. Snot and tears are running down his face. I’ve never seen him look like this. He’s always Mr. Cool.
I think Mr. Scary knocked him down a few pegs.
Janet rushes towards him. I push the window up a crack so I can hear them. “Rickie, what happened? Oh my god!”
“I fell off my bike,” he grumbles.
He didn’t tell on the scary man with the pictures.
Grandpa had pictures too. He told me he got them when he was in the Navy on a big boat. He said they were his secrets and that he had them tattooed onto his skin so he could take them to the grave. I don’t know what that means but I guess he got his wish.
Janet gathers all the kids into her van and off they go. I’m sure she just forgot me in the rush to get Rick to the doctor. It’s okay. I like being alone. It gives me a chance to sneak into the pantry for bread.
After I have my fill I head to the tiny bathroom we all share and pull down my pants. There’s some blood in my underwear. I think he scratched me. I still don’t know if he knew what he was doing or if it was an accident, but it hurt so I don’t think I’ll be riding on Rick’s bike anymore.
Rick has to wear a cast for a long time after that day. He doesn’t talk to me and he doesn’t ride his bike. Which is good because if he asks me again I’ll have to be mean like that guy told me to and tell him no. I don’t like being mean.
Unfortunately, once his cast is off he goes back to giving rides again and I have to be mean and tell him no thank you. I always add the thank you, so it doesn’t sound so mean.
One night at dinner Rick decides to sit next to me at the table. I’m patiently waiting for him to finish so I can give Mop the rest of my too salty pasta, but he’s taking forever. The other kids have all left the table and it’s just the two of us. Janet has her back to us as she busily washes dishes and cleans up the kitchen.
“How come you never want a ride on my bike anymore?” he asks.
Maybe he didn’t know he was touching me there. Maybe that man broke his fingers for no reason. I start to feel bad. I shrug my shoulders and continue to push pasta around with my fork.
Rick puts his hand on my leg, and I freeze. Slowly he moves it up, up, up. My eyes dart to Janet, silently pleading to her. Please turn around, please turn around.
She doesn’t.
The good news is I don’t have to eat salty food anymore.
The bad news is I won’t get to use the roller skates ever again.
Chapter Two
Dirk
◆◆◆
"What the fuck do you mean you don’t know where she’s at?” I can hear Bill grind his teeth over the receiver.
“They moved her. She stuck a fork in the kid’s leg,” I reply, lazily leaning against my Harley.
“Goddammit!” he roars.
“I’ll find her, dude. Chill.”
“Why would my daughter stick a fucking fork in some poor teenage boy’s leg? Huh? Explain that to me, Dirk?”
“Well, she’s a lot like her old man evidently.”
He huffs at this, not a subject he can argue since he’s currently sitting in prison for offing a rival gang member in broad fucking daylight, in front of the courthouse I might add.
“Why? Don’t fuck with me. My baby girl wouldn’t do that for no reason.”
“You don’t even know her. She might be an evil little bitch like her mother.”
“So help me god, Dirk,” he warns.
“Okay, okay. He was messing with your girl. I caught him with his hand in her pants on his bicycle and before you freak she wasn’t letting him. I could tell by her fucking tears. I broke the little fucks fingers. Assumed he would have learned his lesson but, I guess he has bigger balls than I thought. I may have told her she might have to get a little mean to protect herself, you know?”
Dead silence.
“And why didn’t you kill him?”
I sigh. Should have known broken fingers wouldn’t be enough for Bill. “She was watching.”
He grumbles and I hear him inform someone he has two minutes left and to fuck off. I wait for his orders.
“Have Raffe put the charm on that social worker and find out where she is.”
“Got it,” I toss my cigarette to the ground and fire up the bike. “What about the kid?”
“Leave him. Hopefully, he remembers he fucked with the wrong girl every time he picks up a fork.”
I laugh. Yeah, bet he didn’t see that one coming.
It takes pretty boy, Raffe, a bit of time but eventually he charms the pants off the social worker (literally, I saw the woman’s bare ass pressed against the window of her office). Anyhow he gets Jesse’s location. Bill is definitely not going to be happy. They stuck her in some Catholic boarding school for troubled teens. She’s ten for fucks sake.
Chapter Three
Jesse ~ Twelve years old
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My grandma always said bad things come in threes. Now I don’t know if that’s true but if it is this should be my last bad thing. One was grandma and grandpa dying, two was Rick and his icky fingers and three, well, let me tell you about three…
After sticking that fork in Rick’s leg, the lady in the suit told me I couldn’t stay at the Ditsworth’s no more. So, she took me to St. Mary’s home from troubled girls. She said they haven’t found Aunt Renee yet, but that’s okay. Grandpa always said she was a bad egg, just like my mama. But, let me tell you, the name of this place fits. These girls are trouble.
I stay out of the way though and keep quiet. For the last two years, I’ve shared a room with a girl named Sandra, she’s boy crazy. She sneaks out every night and when she comes back she has these purple marks all over her neck. She stares at them in the mirror like Grandpa did his medals from the Navy. She sure is proud of them. I think they look like she was attacked by a vacuum cleaner, but I don’t tell her that. That would be mean, and I don’t like being mean.
It’s not bad here. It’s all girls and I like that. No boys mean no Ricks. Or, pricks. Sandra told me what a prick was and now it makes sense why that scary man was calling him that.
I’ve been worried that the scary man did have the right Jesse and my dad might be looking for me. How would he find me here? I’m sure he was wrong though. Grandma and grandpa told me I didn’t have a dad, but everyone has a dad right? I mean I know how babies get into this world and it’s not like my mom was the Virgin Mary or anything like that. Not a bad egg, a bad egg couldn’t get pregnant by divine intervention. That’s something I learned here at St. Mary’s.
The learning is the best thing about being here. The girls are all older than me, but I haven’t had any problems keeping up. In fact, I help the other girls with their homework and in return they sneak me candy. I keep my stash hidden under a loose floorboard cause Sister Catherine would smack my knuckles if she found them. The food here is good though so there’s that.