As she walked back to the men staring at skin mags, I could see the slit in her tight skirt was torn. She stood beside the men. I hadn’t seen her face; I had no idea how old she was. She could have been twelve. She grabbed a fat little comic book. I thought standing back there was a pretty stupid thing to do. They might think you were like those girls they were gazing at; the one with her legs spread and the stupid caption: Julie loves chasing butterflies. They might touch you.

Her voice was rough and sweet. She nudged him with her elbow, the guy beside her. She showed him her comic book. What do you think of Betty? she asked.

He ignored her; she stood beside him, a little too close. After a few seconds, he was up at the counter, clutching a Chatelaine. No one at the cash register, so he threw some bills on the counter.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Slim-hipped, roving, she came up to where I was.

She came up to the counter and pocketed the money the man had left for a magazine.

Ming!

The small man came out of his kitchen. His face was damp and old, but he smiled when he saw her.

I put away my notebook.

You stay down here, he said, you stay off Yates Street. Your probation lady told me. The Red Zone stops here.

The Red Zone, she said, yeah, yeah.

Everyone in this town hates you, he said. I heard.

Thanks a lot, she said. She had a toothbrush around her neck; it was hanging from a small pink chain. She stuck it in between her lips like the dirty bristles were some kind of candy.

Look at your skirt, he said. You can’t sew.

Who cares, she said.

You want some food? he asked kindly. Stay here. Stay in Ming’s.

He gave her an egg cream. She left the straw wrapped and sucked on the creamy froth. She crossed her legs and glanced at me. I could see how hacked her hair was, badly dyed from blond to black. She pushed the ragged strands from her face, as if she wanted to show off her full lips and clear blue eyes.

She smiled at me and I turned away, as though I’d been found out.

Another man from the magazine stand came up to the counter. He threw down some magazine called Jailbait. My mother could be in Jailbait. She’d been arrested once. She had a police record. She didn’t do anything really cool to earn it. She didn’t rob a bank or anything. She just sat in some field and refused to move.

The skinny girl put her hand on the man’s money. Ming must have been blind; he looked at her lovingly and grinned.