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.Virginia s mother brushed her hair into pigtails anddressed her in pink dresses with lace ruffled socks.Virginia sfavorite shoes were a pair of black paten leather Mary Janes withsilver buckles.She played hop-scotch and tag in her pigtails andfancy shoes.Her life was as perfect as any girls could be, until theday the city police arrested her father.The court sentenced him tospend the next twenty years of his life in jail.He embezzled moneyat his job to make his life at home easier.He never figured out thatwhat he possessed in spirit and with his invisible heart was morevaluable than what coin and paper could buy.Virginia made it to class several days a month, but never on aMonday or Friday.She always traipsed in tardy like a music diva. Hey, where do I sit? I forget, Virginia asked louder than theteacher s voice.The teacher nodded toward her desk. Where?! So not helpful. Virginia rolled her eyes. It s not hiding from you, Virginia.The empty one in groupfour. Where is group four? I told you I don t know where I sit. Maybe if you came to class more often, you would remember.If instead of interrupting every day, you actually did make it toclass, the teacher looked at the wall clock, not tardy. I raised my hand to wave her over to our table.Virginiastrolled over and sat down.She put her tattered backpack on thetable and spent the next few minutes pulling various things out of itthat had nothing to do with school.She pulled out her cell phone, abling-bling belt, an old shoe, and a crumpled up T-shirt.She lookedat the boy in our table group and mouthed, What? with an angrycurled lip.Can t that asshole see I am looking for my pipe? Ican t have that shit falling out of my backpack in class.Theboy just looked away, trying to pretend she wasn t in our group.Iheard him pleading to the school gods, Please don t let this freakbe my elbow partner today. Virginia, settle down.Quit making a distraction of yourself. When school began, our teacher always used a softer tone, but now after five months of class her patience with Virginia thinnedalmost to the width of a thread.Virginia rolled her eyes into the back of her head.Shemouthed, what-ev-er at the teacher s back.What an ignorantbitch.Crap, what the hell class is this? All she knew was thiswas where to go after lunch.Stupid bitch teacher.Stupid kids.Iwish that boy would quit freakin starin at me.I m such a fuck-up.She always directed her angriest words at herself.Sheappeared to be disrespectful on the outside, but on the inside shehated herself more than anyone in the room could possibly hate her.Please, someone rescue me from this hell.Because Virginia didn t want to embarrass herself, she tried toprove the teacher wrong about her not being able to sit still.Shefocused as hard as she could to hold her body calmly and serenely.She couldn t do it.It looked like someone she didn t know wasdriving her somewhere she didn t want to go.Before long shebegan scratching the itchy scab on her arm.The skin on her faceitched also, so she rubbed her checks.Her neck felt uncomfortableso she scratched at that, too.Then, it felt like ants were crawling onher legs and she couldn t help but scratch them, too.Soon, hertwisting caused her to bump her desk, which then wiggled the deskbelonging to the boy she d sneered at earlier while he tried to do hiswork. Tweaker, he muttered under his breath.Virginia s eyes narrowed to a dirty look. You stink like an ashtray, super-freak. I probably do smell like cigarettes.Shit.She d smoked twoMarlboro Reds before class.She couldn t think of a comeback.The truth was no one thought of her as sweet anymore.When the bell rang, Virginia didn t go to her last class of theday because she never did.and even if she wanted to, she didn tknow where to go.Instead, she walked off campus to her dealer shouse, who was also her best friend, as if a drug dealer could beanyone s real friend at all.Virginia wanted to smoke more meth [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.Virginia s mother brushed her hair into pigtails anddressed her in pink dresses with lace ruffled socks.Virginia sfavorite shoes were a pair of black paten leather Mary Janes withsilver buckles.She played hop-scotch and tag in her pigtails andfancy shoes.Her life was as perfect as any girls could be, until theday the city police arrested her father.The court sentenced him tospend the next twenty years of his life in jail.He embezzled moneyat his job to make his life at home easier.He never figured out thatwhat he possessed in spirit and with his invisible heart was morevaluable than what coin and paper could buy.Virginia made it to class several days a month, but never on aMonday or Friday.She always traipsed in tardy like a music diva. Hey, where do I sit? I forget, Virginia asked louder than theteacher s voice.The teacher nodded toward her desk. Where?! So not helpful. Virginia rolled her eyes. It s not hiding from you, Virginia.The empty one in groupfour. Where is group four? I told you I don t know where I sit. Maybe if you came to class more often, you would remember.If instead of interrupting every day, you actually did make it toclass, the teacher looked at the wall clock, not tardy. I raised my hand to wave her over to our table.Virginiastrolled over and sat down.She put her tattered backpack on thetable and spent the next few minutes pulling various things out of itthat had nothing to do with school.She pulled out her cell phone, abling-bling belt, an old shoe, and a crumpled up T-shirt.She lookedat the boy in our table group and mouthed, What? with an angrycurled lip.Can t that asshole see I am looking for my pipe? Ican t have that shit falling out of my backpack in class.Theboy just looked away, trying to pretend she wasn t in our group.Iheard him pleading to the school gods, Please don t let this freakbe my elbow partner today. Virginia, settle down.Quit making a distraction of yourself. When school began, our teacher always used a softer tone, but now after five months of class her patience with Virginia thinnedalmost to the width of a thread.Virginia rolled her eyes into the back of her head.Shemouthed, what-ev-er at the teacher s back.What an ignorantbitch.Crap, what the hell class is this? All she knew was thiswas where to go after lunch.Stupid bitch teacher.Stupid kids.Iwish that boy would quit freakin starin at me.I m such a fuck-up.She always directed her angriest words at herself.Sheappeared to be disrespectful on the outside, but on the inside shehated herself more than anyone in the room could possibly hate her.Please, someone rescue me from this hell.Because Virginia didn t want to embarrass herself, she tried toprove the teacher wrong about her not being able to sit still.Shefocused as hard as she could to hold her body calmly and serenely.She couldn t do it.It looked like someone she didn t know wasdriving her somewhere she didn t want to go.Before long shebegan scratching the itchy scab on her arm.The skin on her faceitched also, so she rubbed her checks.Her neck felt uncomfortableso she scratched at that, too.Then, it felt like ants were crawling onher legs and she couldn t help but scratch them, too.Soon, hertwisting caused her to bump her desk, which then wiggled the deskbelonging to the boy she d sneered at earlier while he tried to do hiswork. Tweaker, he muttered under his breath.Virginia s eyes narrowed to a dirty look. You stink like an ashtray, super-freak. I probably do smell like cigarettes.Shit.She d smoked twoMarlboro Reds before class.She couldn t think of a comeback.The truth was no one thought of her as sweet anymore.When the bell rang, Virginia didn t go to her last class of theday because she never did.and even if she wanted to, she didn tknow where to go.Instead, she walked off campus to her dealer shouse, who was also her best friend, as if a drug dealer could beanyone s real friend at all.Virginia wanted to smoke more meth [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]