Gitchie Girl: The Survivor's Inside Story of the Mass Murders that Shocked the Heartland Read Online Free

would happen next.
    A stern nun lashed the girl’s rear several times. She held in her tears, not giving satisfaction to the nun or the other kids intensely watching for weakness. It had been a close call for Sandra though. The strain of constantly watching her back along with the demoralizing atmosphere gradually dampened her bubbly spirit.
    At night, atop a thin, lumpy mattress that smelled of must and old urine, Sandra curled herself into a tight ball and fell asleep trying to remember every detail of her friends back home: how they’d laughed, how two friends would each hold one end of a long rope while the third girl jumped, all of them singing a catchy rhyming song about “Cinderella dressed in yella.” And how they were all kind to one another. Had the plastic handles of the jump rope been blue? No, green, she remembered, and one handle had a crack that would pinch your skin if you didn’t hold it just right. This attention to detail helped her focus on something besides the fact that it was still over a month until she could go back home for Christmas.
    Sandra was able to avoid the Circle of Discipline, although the fear of it loomed heavily. Her gut ached every time the belt cracked against another child’s thin pants with a slap and a whoosh even when it was someone who’d been less than kind to her. Her gentle heart couldn’t stomach the fear and injustice. The cold stares and taunts of “white girl” followed her every day while she sat in a colorless classroom surrounded by jeering whispers and constant ridicule. She met each insult with a brave face, and in quiet moments daydreamed about the shocked looks they’d have on their faces one day when she received her Miss America crown on television as the audience applauded wildly in the background. She knew it was unlikely to ever happen, but she held onto these dreams, one of the only things that hadn’t already been taken from her.
    What she felt wasn’t anger, it wasn’t animosity; it was overwhelming loneliness, especially since only sporadic phone calls home were allowed. Sandra waited, counting the days until she’d see her mom again. She marked off each day in her head until there were only two left. Once home, she planned on badgering, explaining, and pestering until she could convince her mom to take her back. But then, the day before Christmas break, she found out the bad news.
    “You’re not going home,” a stern nun explained when Sandra inquired about a bag or suitcase for her belongings. Sandra didn’t have much at the school but intended to take it all since she had no plans of returning. The next day, some of the students left to spend Christmas at home while others stayed. Sandra never found out why she was a part of the latter group.
    There was little to do around the boarding school during the break. She slipped into a blue fog, with each day stretching endlessly. After the break ended and everyone returned from their homes, life continued on in its own dismal and disconcerting way. The only thing Sandra knew was that she had to persuade her mom to let her come home once and for all.
    When the school term finally ended and Sandra and her brothers did get to go home, Lolo was waiting for them at the front door. Sandra raced past the others, throwing her arms around her mother. “My baby girl,” Lolo whispered over and over, stroking Sandra’s hair. Neither had to say how much she’d missed the other. With a simple touch, the bond between mother and daughter was once again sealed.
    Over the summer, Sandra pleaded with her mother, who adored her only daughter. Sandra’s well-worded complaints finally convinced her mother not to send her back to the Mission boarding school. Sandra was relieved; her boarding school nightmare was finally over. The family was back together. The fighting in the house had calmed down. It looked as if the worst was behind them.
    Sandra and her brothers had settled into a comfortable summer routine of