Anatomy of a Girl Gang (9781551525303) (16 page)

$ly Girl looked up from da dawg, her face set 2 panik mode.

Let's have a vote, Mac $ed.

Mercy rolled her eyez.

All in favour of keeping the dog, raise your hand.

all handz $hot up, Xcept Mercyz.

All opposed?

I just think we should have talked about it first, that's all.

But you're okay with keeping him? Right? $ly Girl a$ked. Right, Mercy?

Mercy gazed @ da dawg.

Right?

As long as it doesn't piss in my room or bite me.

He won't! $ly Girl $ed. I promise.

And it can't chew up our shoes either. There's easily ten grand worth of shoes and boots in this house.

He won't wreck our shoes. I'll make sure. I'll put them all in the closet and keep the door closed.

Alright, Mercy $hrugged. Whatever.

Oh thank you, thank you! Thank you! $ly Girl held da dawg up 2 Mercyz face. I ruv roo Mercy.

Mercy rolled her eyez, $hook her hed, & walked outta da room.

wat R we gonna name him? i a$ked. all of u$ $tared @ da dawg. his front left paw wuz wyte & so wuz hiz che$t. hiz hed lolled bak & he wuz grinning thru hiz black lipz.

How about Scooby? Mac $ed.

Nah. That's not a good name for a G-Dog. Too cutesy, $ed Kayo$.

how bout Thug? i $ed.

Thug. Come here, Thug. Thuggy Thuggy Thug Thug. Yeah, I like it, Kayo$ $ed. What do you think, Sly?

Thug. Yeah, it's a good name. $he laffed az da dawg licked her hand.

Mac?

Seems appropriate, $he $myled.

Thug it is. Kayo$ $cratched behind hiz earz.

& $o, the Black Ro$e$ got itz 6th membr.

SLY GIRL

There were tons of dogs on the rez, but they didn't belong to no one. Not really. Some people would say, Oh that's my dog. He's mine, leave him be. But those dogs didn't belong to nobody, and every other year the SPCA would come round and shoot almost all of them. I wished that one of them could be mine. I wished I could save just one. There was this little golden dog that liked to be petted when she was just a pup. I used to brush out her fur with my cousin's hairbrush. Ha ha. Named her Goldilocks, my cousin and me. But when she got a bit older, she didn't come round no more. Just stayed with the pack, wrestlin, carryin bloody squirrels around in her mouth, causin a ruckus at night with the others. One day, the SPCA came and loaded her and some other dogs into the back of a big white van, and I never seen her again.

But now, finally,
finally
, I have a dog. Well, he isn't just mine, he's all of ours, but I like to think of him as mine. Thug's a purebred American Pit Bull Terrier, the colour of sand, and he's probably the cutest, smartest, lovingest dog in the wide world. Mac brought home a bunch of books for me from the library about how to train dogs and care for pit bulls. I flipped through a couple of them, but I don't really like to read much, so I just looked at the pictures. Mercy got Thug a black leather collar studded with spikes and a thick black leather leash. Real bad-ass, eh, ha ha. Perfect. She asked me how his trainin was comin along as she buckled his new collar.

Um, not bad. I think he's gettin good at only goin to the bathroom outside.

Uh-huh …

And, he comes when you call him.

Yeah, usually.

Am I … am I sposed to teach him to attack?

I guess that's the idea, eventually. But you can start with just simple stuff like heel, sit, stay, roll over, that kind of thing. Hey, have you thought of taking him to a class?

What do you mean?

Like a doggie training class, where you go once or twice a week and there's an instructor and other dogs come and—

I didn't really know things like that existed.

Oh yeah, sure. I always overhear the doggie-purse chicks in the mall talking about their obedience classes, she laughed. I'll talk to Mac about getting you signed up for one. What do you think?

Uh, sure, I guess. If you think it would help.

I'm sure it will. She reached down and petted Thug's head, and he licked her jeans and nuzzled into her leg.

I couldn't imagine him ever attackin anybody or even being fierce. But I guess that's why Mac got him, to protect us.

PART 3

DOWN FOR LIFE

KAYOS

I've wanted a dog my whole entire life, but we could never get one because jerk-ass Roger is allergic. Well, I'm allergic to
him
. We should get rid of him and let a dog move in. Seriously. Anyway, Thug is totally awesome, even though his head is huge and he bumps into everything and knocks over whatever's in his path, and when he wags his tail and it hits your leg it's like you're getting whipped with a stick. But he can't help it.

Sly Girl was supposed to train him up, right, so she'd have something to focus on and hopefully get out of her depression or whatevs. But I think he listens to me more. I like taking him for walks around the hood because instead of giving me their usual sneer or
Heyyy girl
, people actually give me respect. For real. They take one look at Thug and keep walking straight ahead, maybe give me a little nod. Like nobody's gonna mess, you know? It's nice. Really nice. He's getting hella big really fast and kinda just pulls us along instead of heeling like he's supposed to.

Sly Girl is maybe gonna take him to doggie training classes to get him whipped into shape. Because it's hard work training a dog, you know? It's not like a little kid where you can just make them do whatever you say. A dog is different. Especially if they're big, like Thug is. As lame as it sounds, I sorta wanted to go to doggie training class too, but it was on Tuesdays, and I have my mixed martial arts class that night, and I can't give that up because I'd probably go nuts without it.

I've been spending a lot of time at the Cordova house,
though, just to be around Thug and my girls and all the action downtown. A part of me knows I should be at home with Laura, getting her dressed, giving her baths, feeding her, playing with her. But, I mean, I'm fifteen years old. There's gonna be time for all that junk later. Right now, I just want to party.

I never really thought I'd be in a gang. I mean, I thought all those colours and rags and shit were pretty dumb, kid's stuff, you know? But the Black Roses aren't like that. I mean, we're in this to win it. We're not just screwing around like so many wannabes out there. We're too legit to quit! For real. And now that I'm with them, it's like I was always meant to be part of it, this thing of ours. They're like my family now, yo. Seriously. Down for life, baby. Down for life.

SLY GIRL

I took Thug to dog trainin over in Yaletown. Man, it's just a few blocks away, but it's like a whole different universe over there. All these blonde sparkly chicks with their Chihuahuas, the slick-haired yuppies with their Labs and Whippets, and the wannabe bad guys with their Boxers and Rotties, blue-haired oldies with their Bichons, Cockapoos, mini-whatevers. I'm the only one with a pit bull, and everyone kinda shies away from me and Thug, eh, like we're gonna bite their heads off or somethin. Thug isn't the worst dog in class, but he ain't the best either. He gets real excited about everythin and likes to sniff everybody's butt, dogs and people. It's hard for me to keep hold of him when he gets it in his head that he's goin somewheres and he'll just drag me along behind him. I don't really even stand much of a chance, eh.

Our teacher is Brady. Brady says I need to block Thug with my body and make him know it's not okay to go anywheres when I don't want him to. Brady says pit bulls are super intelligent, but they need a lot of work and training to get them to behave how you want them to. When me and Thug walk around the room, the ladies scoop up their little puffball dogs and hold them in their laps so Thug won't step on their heads. He doesn't mean to step on their heads, but he's just so big and excited that he does sometimes anyways. We've got a ways to go, but this week he did sit-stay and didn't move for a full ten seconds, even though there was a dog treat two feet away. Ten seconds is a long time for a dog, eh, but Thug didn't get up until I told him to. I was so proud.

MERCY

When I got home tonight, the worst thing that could have happened had. Our stuff was all over the house. The coke was gone. The crack was gone. The scale was gone. The safe was gone.

I felt sick inside. Our entire life savings. Everything we'd worked so hard for. Gone. The Vipers sign was spray-painted in red on the wall by the door. Those fuckers. We didn't owe them shit. And they took from us everything they could carry.

I sat down on my bed and called Mac. Where the fuck was everybody? There was always someone home. Mac didn't answer. I swore and threw my phone across the room and squeezed my pillow. I felt like I couldn't breathe. My chest tightened and seized. Maybe I was having a heart attack. I lay down on my bed because I remembered hearing once that if you were having a heart attack you should lay down. I stared up at the ceiling. It looked wavy through my tears. Now what were we supposed to do? We had practically every dollar we owned in there. For our condo. Our dream home. Now we had nothing.

What was the point of having five members and a purebred pit-fucking-bull if we couldn't even guard our assets? Useless. Totally useless. It was all gone. We might as well not have done any of it. And what could I do about it? Call the cops?

Oh, hello, excuse me officer, but my kilo of coke and all the money I've saved from selling it, stealing cars, and pulling bank frauds has gone missing. Do you think you could help me get it back?

Fucking hopeless.

I went to the toilet and dry heaved for a while but nothing came up. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt this awful. Just when I thought we finally had a handle on things, just when I thought we were finally going to get out of this rat hole, it all went down the shitter. Typical.

I called Mac again. She answered, breathless and laughing. I could hear Z in the background saying something about candyfloss.

Where are you?

Just hanging out with Z. We're on the steps of the art gallery.

Come home right now.

Why? What's up?

We've been robbed.

Oh no.

Oh yes.

How bad?

Everything.

Fuuuck
. I could hear the catch in her throat. The shuffling of material as she stood up. We gotta go, she said to Z. Are you okay, Merce?

I don't know. This is bad.

Did you see anyone there?

It was the Vipers. They left their sign on the wall.

What? Fucking Cyco! Aarrgh!

I knew they wouldn't let us go so easily. But this is—

You're the only one home?

Yeah.

Okay, just sit tight. We're on our way.

I dropped my phone, put my head in my hands, and cried. For the first time in years, I cried.

MAC

What happened? What's wrong? Z scrambled to get her sketchbook into her bag and catch up with me.

The Vipers robbed us.

Aw,
shiiit
.

Come on. We gotta get home.

She grabbed my hand and hustled along beside me. We didn't often hold hands in public, but right then, it was good to have somebody to hold on to. My mind spun with a thousand thoughts. Everything. Gone. What should we do? What
could
we do? Should I call Hank? Where the fuck had everyone been? Why wasn't someone at home? What about the dog? Did they take the dog, too?

When I opened the door to our house and saw the coffee table flipped on its side, the empty space where the stereo had been, and all of our electronics, CDs, and DVDs gone, I felt a piercing pain in my heart. So, it was true.

I looked at Z. Her dark eyes glazed over, and she whistled through her teeth as she took in the trashed room. She gave me a hug, but there was nothing she could do to fix it.