Mr. Tullock always drove Janie home but once when he was busy, Mrs. Tullock drove her home in her silver Mercedes, which smelled new with a hint of her perfume. The road was a little bumpy near the railroad yards when she pulled up to Janie’s house. The stench of the slaughterhouse invaded the car as Mrs. Tullock stared at the duplex.

“This is where you live?”

In that moment, with her accent, her tone, her Mercedes, she had reduced Janie to someone to be looked down upon, someone beneath Connie Tullock’s station in life.

Someone of less value.

And in that instant, Janie saw her mother in the restaurant on her knees brushing food from Mr. Tullock’s shoes and her stomach twisted with an internal scream. She welcomed the horrible stink from the slaughterhouse into the car like an allied force and even though the air-conditioning was on, dropped the window.

Yes, Janie thought, smell it. Breathe it in. This is where I live.

“Oh my, that is pungent, isn’t it?” Mrs. Tullock said, reaching into her wallet. “Now, Roy’s already given you some cash. I believe we owe you another five.”

“Another ten for tonight,” Janie said.

“No, I believe it’s five.”

“It’s ten.”

“Well, look, dear, all I have is this five, twenties and fifties.”

“I could take a twenty and get change from my mom or from the store and bring it to you next time.”

“Don’t be silly. Roy and I will make the adjustment next time, like we always do.”

“But you don’t—”

“Take this five with our thanks as always.” Then subtly placing a finger under her nose, Mrs. Tullock hit the button to raise the window as Janie got out.

That was how it had gone since she began sitting for the Tullocks. Janie tried presenting the problem to them but it was futile—they always dismissed it as honest mistakes. Complicating it all was the fact that sitting for them was tied to her mother’s job at the golf course. So Janie never pushed it, but she began keeping a log of how much she was owed. By this point in the summer it had grown to about a hundred dollars, along with her anger as she, Nikki and Marie walked through town that hot summer day aching for someplace to go and something to do.

The cemetery was out. The golf course was definitely out. The Eternity rodeo was long over. They didn’t care to watch boys playing street hockey and they’d gone everywhere there was to go a million times.

“All right,” Nikki said, “I think it’s time.”

“Time for what?” Marie asked.

“Time we take serious control of our lives.”

“What do you mean?” Janie asked.

“I’ve been reading stuff, stuff that’s a little scary, but we’ll do it. Tonight.”

“Do what? What’re you talking about?” Janie asked.