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

attention never went to her head. In fact, she often seemed oblivious to their boasting and swaggering, having observed the actions of her brothers over the years when girls were around. So far, the adoration of her father, who had said that Sandra was going to be his little Miss America some day, had sufficed. Yet recently she found that she didn’t mind the attention heaped on her by some of the boys when she and Debbie would walk into town. Sandra no longer threw her hair into a ponytail before departing on these walks; instead, she now kept a comb handy so her hair could flow freely about her shoulders while she and Debbie chattered their way into town.
    The following evening was hot but clear, typical for the time of year and just right for a night at the Starlight Drive-in Theater. The girls sat in the car but not for long. The whole purpose of coming here was to socialize, not watch movies. The soundtrack was blaring through the metal speaker attached to the door of the rolled down window, and the smell of fresh popcorn and chili dogs hung in the air. Sandra gazed down the rows of cars, some with children sitting on blankets atop the roof and others surrounded by small groups of teenagers laughing and sipping ice cold Cokes or whatever illegal beverage they might have sneaked in.
    “Let’s go,” Debbie said, eager to see who else was there.
    Sandra wore a delicate summery top with flowing sleeves and cut-off jeans. Her flip-flops caught bits of gravel with every step.
    The concession stand was in a sparse cement block building crammed with an impatient crowd waiting to get back to their cars and friends. The two girls stood in line, but then some people who Sandra didn’t know motioned for Debbie to join them. When Sandra went to leave the concession stand ten minutes later with a pack of licorice, she’d lost sight of Debbie.
    Sandra stepped from the stuffy building into the mild night. Not twenty feet away and headed straight toward her was the most handsome boy she’d ever seen. The world blurred and glimmered, becoming a vacuum containing only Sandra and this suave boy with layered black hair flowing in the breeze, as if she’d been transported into a movie. A hint of a smile crossed his face when their eyes met, sending a quiver skipping through her. The boy walked right up to her. Later that night, and for days—no, years—to come, she’d replay the moment over and over with eyes closed and an irrepressible smile on her face. She’d think of how it had been almost like those too-romantic-to-believe moments portrayed on made for TV movies designed to appeal to women, but it was more than that because even the most talented author or brilliant movie producer can’t capture the emotion that sweeps through a young girl on the cusp of first love. All the overused platitudes whipstitched together couldn’t describe what she felt: her heart stopped; she literally froze in her tracks; their eyes met; it was love at first sight. She didn’t just see Roger for the first time. She felt him clear through to her soul. And suddenly, there he was in front of her.
    “Well, hello,” he said assuredly as if they were old friends. The warmth of his eyes glinted with serenity as though they were kindred spirits. He extended his hand. “I’m Roger Essem. What’s your name?”
    Sandra tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, reached out after a brief pause, bowed her head just a bit, and shook his hand. “Sandra Cheskey,” she replied softly.
    They fell into an easy conversation, and she found out that Roger was a student at Washington High in Sioux Falls. He was with his good friend Stewart Baade. Sandra purposely avoided the topic of school, only mentioning that her school was in Harrisburg near the town of Tea. They talked for about fifteen minutes before Roger asked for her number. “I’ll call you, and maybe we could do something together.”
    Though inexperienced in the art of flirtation, Sandra walked away