Traffick Read Online Free Page B

intense it will leave her
    breathless. Suddenly, my eyes sting.
    You okay? asks Shayleece, noting
    the onslaught of tears. She’s one
    of thirty-two Walk Straight girls—
    about my age, with dark-chocolate
    skin and huge espresso eyes.
    We haven’t talked much, but then
    neither of us is the talkative type.
    â€œI’m all right. Just thinking
    about someone back home.”
    We are at lunch, which today
    is a delicious (not) tuna salad
    sandwich. I never cared for tuna,
    anyway, but in this setting, with
    everyone eating it at the same
    time, the fish smell is nauseating.
    Shayleece doesn’t seem to notice.
    Someone special, huh? Bet it’s a guy.
    She waits for my nod before
    continuing. Like a real boyfriend?
    Ooh, girl! I want one of those someday.
    Okay, maybe she is the talkative
    type. I remain tight-lipped, except
    to say, “He’s the most amazing guy
    in the world.” If I think one more
    time about him kissing me beneath
    the broad Idaho sky, I’ll go completely
    crazy. It’s the best memory I own,
    but when it rises, smoke, I choke
    on the knot that forms in my throat.
    I’m suffocating at this moment.
    I don’t want to talk about Andrew,
    so I refocus the conversation,
    which I guess is what we’re having
    between bites of yucky tuna sandwich.
    â€œYou never had a boyfriend?”
    Oh, hell no. My mom, she would
    have killed me. Sex for love, which
    means for free? Nah, she wouldn’t
    have put up with that for one second,
    and Daddy would’ve killed the guy.

Now That She’s Opened Her Mouth
    It’s going to be hard to slam it
    shut again. Because when I ask,
    â€œYou mean your mother knew
    you were turning tricks?” she has
    no compunction about sharing
    her entire life story with me. Oh,
    yeah. My mom’s the one who put
    me out on the track. Well, she did
    it for Daddy. See, she was one of
    his “wifeys,” too. And know what?
    Daddy was maybe my real daddy,
    ain’t that a hoot? Mom was fourteen
    when she started tricking, and he was
    her man, so she didn’t use no protection
    with him. She was fifteen when she had me.
    â€œWait. Your mom wanted you
    to prostitute? How old were you?”
    My own mother insisted I had to
    get married before I even allowed
    a boy to kiss me, let alone . . .
    We needed the money for rent and
    stuff. I was thirteen, but no big deal.
    One of Daddy’s friends broke me in
    when I was nine. As Daddy says,
    tight pussy costs a pretty penny.

Unless You Can Coerce It
    Crush what’s left of a little girl’s
    childhood into dust. I know
    it happens, but it’s hard to picture,
    and she doesn’t even seem that upset
    about it. How can that be possible?
    Shayleece finishes her sandwich,
    chases the last swallow with a big
    gulp of chocolate milk, starts on
    her giant oatmeal raisin cookie.
    Who broke you in? she asks bluntly.
    â€œYou mean who did I give
    my virginity to?” I realize few
    enough girls here actually gifted
    it to someone. Maybe only me.
    â€œMy first time was with Andrew.”
    He your boyfriend? Her voice
    drips incredulity, but when she
    assesses my body language and
    finds only truth reflected there,
    she asks, So how you end up here?
    â€œWant my cookie?” I shuttle
    my tray across the table so she can
    enjoy the second dessert. “This will
    probably sound stupid, but I think God
    sent me here. See, this priest—”
    No. I don’t mean here at this table.
    I mean in Vegas, in the life. I never
    saw you out on the track. Daddy
    woulda loved getting hold of you.
    He’s always scouting for white girls.
    I don’t really want to talk about
    Tears of Zion with Shayleece,
    so I tell her, “It’s a long story. Let’s
    just say I had no choice but to run
    away, and the trucker who picked
    me up hitchhiking was headed
    in this direction. I’ve got a question
    for you, though. How did you wind
    up at Walk