But tourists see what they want to see. In Grade Nine, I had to do Work Experience at Native Expressions, one of those tourist stores. I sold little dolls supposedly made by local Indian girls, but really they were made in China. My boss made me cut the labels off.

It was funny walking by the same store now. The windows were full of Princess Di crap. The future Queen—her face was on tea towels and T-shirts and china plates. I didn’t really see what Princess Di had to do with Victoria. I guess it was just because we were named after another Queen. I don’t know why but it always got on my nerves that we were living in this hick town of loggers and headbangers, and somehow we were supposed to act like we were some lovely British village. Personally, I didn’t give a fuck about Princess Di, and just seeing her prissy face all over the place put me in a bad mood. I wanted to smash into my old workplace and set every towel on fire. Once Queen Elizabeth came to Victoria and we got the day off school. Dean took acid and I hot-knived some hash with Heather, and the three of us went down to the Empress Hotel. Heather really wanted to see the Queen, and she pulled me to the front of the crowd. The Queen wasn’t wearing a crown and she looked just like she does on postcards, regal and supreme. I saw her. She didn’t see me. She waved from inside her armored car. Some girl yelled out, Death to the monarchy! and now that I think about it, the voice was familiar. Yeah, the girl who lipped off the Queen, I know that was Justine.

You’ll never guess where I went.

The Greater Victoria Public Library.

Yeah, party time.

I’d decided to teach myself to be a nurse. I’d get my own degree. I didn’t need anybody to certify me. I’d resuscitate the dead. I’d learn the secrets of breathing. With all my aptitude, I might even invent a new kind of CPR.

I’d show them all.

I asked the chick at the help desk where the books on fever were.

Books on fever, she said sarcastically, what exactly do you mean?

I mean the disease, you fool. Haven’t you heard of the disease that’s licking through my veins? I can’t wait till I die because then they’ll do an autopsy, and all those idiots will finally believe that there really was so much warmth inside of me.

I found what I was looking for in the card catalog. FN 112. Fever of Unknown Origin. Some doctor had actually written my autobiography.