Getting Somewhere Read Online Free Page A

Cleveland,” like a little kid with a new kitten. Shannon, with her eyes all big and watery, shimmering out from under her hood, her ridiculous bright red coat, shivering. When Saucy first saw Shannon, she shook her head, clucked her tongue like an old lady. “Ty always likes ’em small,” she said. “The younger the better.” Sarah told the people at the Center she didn’t have a pimp, that they just pimped each other, scored whatever and whenever they could. She wasn’t sure when she said it if it was true or not. She thought it was wise or loyal or necessary to protect him. She’d never thought about Ty as a pimp. He just seemed like one of them, maybe a little older, more experienced. Thinking about Ty that way made her scared, made her wonder if there were other things about him, about all of it, that weren’t how they appeared.
    But she’s not going to worry about that. She’s got to stay sharp. Ty will be mad she got caught, but he’ll forgive her when he knows for sure she didn’t say anything, didn’t give anybody else away. She’s no snitch. It’s okay if, just for now, she lets them feed her, give her a warm bed. And it does feel good, so good. Why not? It’s just for now. . . .

MONDAY, MAY 14
    CASSIE DOESN’T KNOW HOW IT HAS HAPPENED, BUT THE other girls are all on the opposite side of the row and she is standing on this side with the adults. There is something that attracts them to each other, something she doesn’t have. They seem to even be able to communicate without talking, looks and gestures making a secret language that Cassie doesn’t know. All day, she has felt them drawing together, moving like a school of fish, pulling away from her. She wants to throw a net around them and rein them in before they get away.
    Cassie is wondering how someone, a girl, goes about making friends with other girls. Not that she should expect that. She has tried to punch the longing away like a helium-filled balloon, but it just keeps bouncing back. She is sure she is doing something terribly wrong, can’t figure out how she’ll determine what it is. Cassie can hardly stand to look at herself now, her own awful clothes, the prints garish, the styles square and baggy. It didn’t matter to her before that she was wearing clothes Gram wore thirty or more years ago or pants and blouses that Gordon picked out for her at Discount World without knowing her size or anything about what she might like. She flinches with humiliation to think how thrilled she had been when he brought them to her, how much she loved the colors, how childish her response to their newness, and how ridiculous they look in comparison to what she has now seen other girls her age wearing. But there’s nothing, absolutely nothing, she can do about it now.
    She’d told Lauren that she liked her sweater. It had taken her all morning to get the courage to speak and, when she did, her voice came out thin and croaking. Lauren had raised her eyebrows, hadn’t answered for a second too long, finally said, “Oh yeah?” Cassie had nodded. Then Lauren told her she’d stolen it. “Two hundred and sixty bucks, the tag said.” Lauren was smiling like it was something Cassie would know all about, complicit with that sort of thing. Lauren had leaned close, acting like she was sharing a secret, said, “I just buy something else and then take a whole bunch of clothes into the dressing room and stuff whatever I want in my store bag. Easy. You have to avoid the places with those screaming tags though, know what I mean?”
    Cassie had no idea, thought the word “tags” might be some kind of slang for store police or for someone who tells on you if they see you stealing. Cassie doesn’t understand about the $260, either. Gram’s whole Social Security check for the month was $538. How would anyone eat and pay rent and keep the