You think I can become a nurse?

You can do anything you want, Sara. But you’ll have to graduate from high school first.

Sure, I said. But I was thinking to myself that Camosun College better make an exception for me. Gloria was on my side. The only way I was going back to Mount Drug was with a gun in my hand.

You think I’ll make a good nurse, Hazel?

Terrific, she said, and she circled a name from her list of potential champion dogs.

I know you think I’m going to fuck up the Mickelsons. Chapter Ten: Fire in Gordon Head. So go ahead and doubt me. I don’t care. Just fuck off.

It was the first day of June, and the sky was still sunless and white.

It was 4:00. I thought I should just get on a bus near the Social Services office.

As I walked toward the bus stop, men no longer gave me lewd looks. Three days in White Oaks, I’d lost the necessary innocence. I still wore China’s white coat and her white flimsy dress; I still wore her lace-up leather boots. As for the knife, you’ll have to take a guess. OK, I still had my knife, but I swear I wasn’t planning on using it.

In two hours, the Mickelsons would give me a new wardrobe. We’d have a hearty steak dinner—my first taste of blood and meat. Before dinner, we’d probably say a prayer. After dinner, I’d retreat to the guest room, where I wouldn’t touch myself.

Broken locks and bruised knees and borrowed lip gloss and rain on the streets. I wouldn’t write in my notebook. ’Cause if I wrote the words, the images would come rushing back to me. I’d get a sudden urge for rooftops and alleys. I’d want to climb out the window.

So I’d leave my notebook alone. I’d read the Bible. It was about time. Maybe I’d read Little House on the Prairie. I was pretty sure the Mickelsons would have the collected works of Laura Ingalls Wilder. I wanted to read those books. I swear. I’m not kidding you. Really, I’m not being insolent.

The thought of nursing school filled me with such good, clean energy, I could barely keep still. I wanted to yell at every stranger, I have motivation, I have ambition, I have a plan! Ronald Reagan started that war with Grenada, and maybe I could go there and help the wounded Southern boys shot down by Commie bastards.

I walked by the bus stop.