Anatomy of a Girl Gang (9781551525303) (8 page)

Hey, it's going to be alright. Black Roses stick together.

I'm really sorry, she whispered.

I put my arms around her and squeezed, then motioned with my hand for the other girls to join us. At first they hesitated, but after a minute we were all in a big clump, hugging Kayos and each other.

Bad bitches don't die, I said. And they all repeated me in unison.

On the way to her place, we passed a ghost car, and she ducked low in her seat and pulled her hood up over her head.

How old are you again?

Fifteen.

Right. Well, hey, worst-case scenario, you get caught and go to juvie for a year. It's no big deal, not like it's hard time or anything, it won't even go on your permanent record.

Really?

Hey, don't worry, okay? We don't even know if he died or not yet.

Mercy—

What?

I shot him three times in the chest.

Hm. I stopped at a red light. Drummed my fingers against the steering wheel.

She lit a cigarette and rolled down the window. Motherfucker was headed to an early grave anyway, she said. Seriously. Thinking he can fuck with us? Fuck that gutter scum. She spat onto the road.

I stifled a little laugh. What could I say? The girl was tough.

Yo, I'm not saying he deserved it, but he probably did. He probably killed tons of people already, and he was about to kill me and Sly Girl next. I mean, I did the right thing. Right?

I stared at the glowing stoplight.

Right?

Yeah, I nodded. You did.

When I pulled up in front of Kayos's house, I got a small shock. You live
here
? I whistled through my teeth.
Damn
, girl. You've been holding out on us.

The house was a three-storey, three-car garage monstrosity with fancy-ass landscaping, a fountain, marble lions, the works. It looked like it belonged on the cover of a magazine. I sat staring at the house; it was practically a mansion. If she lived here, what the hell was she doing slumming it with us on the Downtown Eastside?

Thanks for the ride. She slung her backpack over her shoulder and slammed the car door.

Hey! I leaned over to the passenger window and called after her. Be good!

She rolled her eyes. Right.

I motioned for her to come back over to the car. Just lay low for awhile, okay? Stay here. Don't come downtown. This'll all blow over in a few days.

But—

We'll call you when it's safe to come back.

Okay. She bit her lip.

Later.

I pulled away from the curb, glancing in the rear-view to see her give me a limp wave.

SLY GIRL

After Mercy and Kayos left, I went into my room and shut the door. I sat down on my bed and just started shakin. I felt like I was gonna throw up. And then, I did. I threw up on a towel, then rolled it in a ball and shoved it in the back of my closet. I just couldn't deal with it right then.

Kayos shooting that U.P. guy somehow brought it all back, everythin I thought I forgot—everythin I been tryin so hard and long to block out—flashed in front of my eyes like I was seein it all again on a movie screen.

I seen a lotta crazy shit on the rez. I seen my cousin Bo get shot in the belly and bleed to death in my kitchen. I seen my brother Lenny get shot in the shoulder, the red flesh all ripped up like the inside of a fish. I seen Lenny stab a guy by the basketball courts, stab him in the neck with a broken beer bottle. I seen my brother, Eugene, get shot in the back, get paralyzed for life over a fifty-dollar debt. I seen one of my mom's boyfriends smack her across the face with his gun because she smoked his last cigarette. I seen my brother Neil push his girlfriend down the stairs so she wouldn't have her baby. I seen the cops bash my brother's hands with clubs until all his fingers were broken and hanging from his hands like bloody sausages. I seen my mom threaten to kill my uncle with an axe. I seen my cousin shoot a dog in the head with a .22. I remember my uncle Leo stickin his gun up my asshole, makin me tell him I liked it. Then stickin it in my mouth. Askin me if I wanted him to pull the trigger. Yes, I'd nod,
gaggin on the gun. Yes. Do it. Just do it. Please. And I meant it.

Then he would.

Click.

The gun would click inside my head so loud, but the chamber was empty, and I still wasn't dead.

But you know I wanted to be.

I remember gettin shot in the face. Knowin that my whole life was blown apart at that moment. Knowin that now I didn't stand a fuckin chance.

I got out my pipe and smoked a fat rock, then lay down on my bed and tried to stop shakin. I closed my eyes and let the hot tears slide down my face. It was all I could do.

Later, Mac knocked on my door. I was afraid she had smelled the crack burnin and was gonna kick me out, but when she came in, she didn't seem mad.

You okay?

I nodded, wiped my nose on my sleeve.

She sat down on my bed. You ever see someone get shot before?

Yeah, I said. Too many people.

She nodded. After a minute she wrinkled up her nose. It kinda smells weird in here …

I puked, I said.

Oh.

Yeaah.

Is there anything I can do for you, Sly Girl? Do you want some tea or soup or something?

I looked down at my dirty nails. I dunno.

I'm gonna make you some chamomile tea. It soothes the nerves. Okay? She put her hand on my shoulder and I flinched.

Okay.

Alright. She closed the door quietly behind her and I could hear her and Z whisperin in the hallway. I was glad they were there. I was glad I didn't have to do everythin alone no more.

MAC

I've never thought of myself as a lesbian. Never pictured myself in a relationship with a woman. Only ever been with men. All of them stubborn, selfish—still boys, really. I'd thought of dykes as weak and kind of nasty, actually. But then I met Z. And the truth is, I don't know what the hell happened, I really don't. But now it's too late to do anything about it, because I'm already in love with her.

She moved in with us after she signed the blood oath. She shares my room. I guess it's our room now. The other girls don't know. I'm not ready for them to know. It would cause weirdness between all of us. Jealousy. Whatever. I'll tell them eventually. Just not now. Not yet. It's not that I'm ashamed of us or anything, it's just … it's politics, you know? Even though we're a family and share everything, I want to keep this private. Just for now. Just until we're ready.

Z is amazing. Oh man, she's so, so,
so
great. I never really felt like anyone cared about me, you know? Not like she does. She makes me these special fancy meals. And cookies. Cookies! She rubs my feet, my back. She draws these crazy awesome portraits of me in her sketchbook. She … she makes me feel beautiful.

It's like she can see through me. Can see right into my soul. I know that sounds cheesy as fuck, but I don't know how else to describe it. I can't fake anything with her, know what I mean? It's real. In one life, I'm this hard-ass gang-banger taking the world on, but when I'm alone with her, there's no more
armour, there's no more walls, I'm just this sappy puddle of joy. It's terrible, I know. There are so many reasons I shouldn't be doing this. It can only end badly. It's not good. But right now, it's
so
good. I don't know what to do. I can't stop it; I tried and it didn't work. She's too good. She's gentle. She's kind. She's funny. She's smart. She's a brilliant artist. It's like she's everything I've always wanted to be but could never be. And she's put in mad work for the Black Roses. Not only does she bomb the city with our name and make it look wicked stylie, she's also taking care of all the little details: the groceries, the meals, the laundry, the bills. She cleans—she actually likes to clean. God, I don't know. It's stupid. It's too good to be true. It can't be real, and it can't last. All I know for sure is this: I love her like I've never loved anyone ever before. And when I look into her eyes, I see infinity.

I'd take a bullet for that girl, I really would.

KAYOS

It's really fucking annoying to have to stay home all week with your parents. I feel like I'm on house arrest. Yo, I actually went to school this week. Believe it. It was
so
weird. Seriously. I should probably start dealing at school since I'm gonna be there anyway. Lotsa preps at my high school are into coke now. All shiny and happy with their fucking argyle sweater vests.
God
.

My parents think I'm sick or something, otherwise I'd be out all the time like usual. Roger rented me a bunch of movies. Brought me some Gatorade. He hasn't touched me in a long time. Not since I threatened to tell my mom. I think it would destroy him to lose her. I wouldn't care about that so much, except that I know it would ruin her life. For real. As much as it's totally fucked up what he did, Mom wasn't doing so good before she met him. Okay, she was a mess. She's better now. She's off the booze. The Valium. Everything. She just shops and gets her hair and nails done, looks after Laura, and makes muffins and shit. I think she's happy. I don't know.

I saw some coverage about the shooting on the news. The reporter said the police think it's gang-related. Well, no shit. A known gangster gets gunned down in the street. Could it be gang-related? Ya think? Dumb pigs. His name was Christopher Johnston. He was from Surrey. Anyway, that seems to be about all they know, so I guess that's good, right? Oh yeah, and there was a number to call at the bottom of the screen if you have any information. Crime Stoppers or some shit. No reward or
nothing. Nobody will call. I'm pretty sure of that. They better not. Or I'm fucked.

I've been waiting to feel bad about it. Guilty or depressed or haunted, whatever. I thought I would, but I don't. I don't feel anything. All I know is that I killed somebody. And if I had to, I could do it again.

When it came on the news, I was holding Laura on my lap, and I just squeezed her. I squeezed her so tight around the belly, without even realizing I was doing it, until she kind of gasped and squirmed away.

She's getting so big now. She's actually kind of fat. Ha ha. I like it, though; she's fat like a little healthy baby should be. She'll be three next fall. I can hardly believe I had her almost three years ago. It seems like a lifetime ago. I told Mom I'm gonna put Laura to bed tonight. I'll give her a bath first. Then read her a bedtime story. One of the ones I used to like. Maybe that one about the kid who flushes his mom's watch down the toilet, but she doesn't get mad because she'll love him forever.

I know Laura is his, and what we did was so wrong for so many reasons, but she's still my kid, right? I mean, I'm allowed to love her. I'm allowed that, at least.

PART 2

STREETS OF PLENTY

MERCY

Just as I expected, the shooting blew over in about a week. It was mentioned in the papers and on the news, but as far as we could tell, there wasn't much of an investigation happening. I mean, who really cares about some scumbag Slurrey gangster taking a fall anyway? And you know all the junkies on Hastings will keep quiet about whatever they saw. Even if there's a reward, they'll keep their mouths shut. Because if they snitch on us, they know they're a) going down and b) never going to be able to buy off us again. So you'd better believe they clam up. It's just the code of the streets. You don't snitch. What do the rappers say? Oh yeah, snitches get stitches. True enough.

When we were rolling with the Vipers, Mac put a hole through a guy's hand for snitching. Dumb fuck let it get infected, and eventually they had to cut off his whole arm. Now everybody calls him the one-armed rat.

Mac let Sly Girl take it easy the day after the shooting, and didn't ask her to go out on the corner or anything. I don't think Sly would have been able to anyway, she was pretty messed up. Quivering like one of those nervous little dogs and looking like hell. I guess she was sick or something, I don't know. It's not like she's never seen anything like that before, her life's been pretty rough from what she's told us, but I guess she was taking this kind of hard. But the next morning, Mac said Sly had to get back out there, because it would look suspicious if we were gone for too long. Plus, every day we don't sell drugs on East Hastings we lose about a thousand dollars.