Mab?
Sheâs like an evil fairy from dreamland â¦
Jewellery too? Kayos asked.
Fuckin rights, the craziest most awesome jewellery youâve ever laid eyes on!
And hair accessories?
Sure. Why not? And Queen Mab would make me so rich that I would be able to have a whole collection of cars. Iâd have, like, twelve different cars that I got to drive around. A Lambo, a Porsche, a Rolls, a Jag, a hot pink Hummer, a Lotusâ
So, Kayos said, whatâs stopping you from doing that right now?
Well, I kinda got this gang thing going on â¦
They laughed, and I did too. But somehow, it wasnât funny. I lit a cigarette and thought about what other cars would be in my private collection.
Kayos and Mac started watching a movie, and I fell asleep on the couch. I dreamed about the guy in the street I had hit. He was yelling at me, but no sound was coming out of his mouth. I tried to hear him, I tried to read his lips, I tried so hard to understand. He kept coming closer and closer to me, till all I could see were his ice-blue eyes, the blood vessels in them all red and about to burst cuz heâs so angry, yelling so hard in my face, but I canât hear.
Iâm sorry! I say to him, Iâm so, so, sorry. Then I wake up, and my eyes are all wet and Iâm shaky. And it was a dream, but it was real, and that man is dead for real, and I killed him. I did to him what that driver did to my mom, and nothing can ever, ever, undo it.
SLY GIRL
I stayed home all day Saturday and made crack on the stove cuz Mac asked me to. The other girls had all gone out to work. It was pissin rain, so I didnât really want to go out anyways. I had the house to myself, so I had a few hits. I was doin pretty good with not smokin it all the time, though. I mean, I only had it once in a while now, not every day, twelve, fifteen times a day like before, when I was livin on the street. And I hadnât touched H since detox. I was doin okay.
Mac called around six, askin if I was hungry, said she was gonna meet up with the others at an Italian restaurant on Commercial, but I didnât feel like goin. Didnât feel like bein around all those beautiful hipsters and uptown mods, havin them all stare at my dog-food face. Especially since I was high.
Are you sure? Mac said. We can come pick you up.
Yeaah, no, Iâm fine. Iâll just order a pizza or somethin.
Okay, well, weâll see you when we get home then.
See you later, alligator. After I bagged up all the fresh, new, milky-white rocks, I decided to go down to Crack Alley for a bit and make some money. I knew the other girls had been out doin dirt all day with the ATMs, boosting and car stuff. I knew they would all be comin home with wads of cash, eh. And I wanted to, too.
I knew I wasnât really sposed to go out alone at night, but what the fuck? Iâd lived out there for half a year on my own, hadnât I? I knew how to handle myself out there. I remembered to take my phone so I could call for backup if I needed to. I alsogot my .22 out of the closet and shoved it in my jacket pocket. Iâd never fired it, but I liked to have it on me just in case, cuz you never know who youâre gonna run into down there.
VANCOUVER
In an alley in the East End, there is a muffled scream that no one cares to hear. It bounces against the buildings and then is lost to the night. Then there is the silvery flash of a blade. There are thuds of skull hitting pavement, boots to bones, and flesh pounding into flesh.
The girl on the ground behind the dumpster came from elsewhere; sheâs the one with the crinkly eye. She keeps her eyes closed, doesnât move, while two menâboys, reallyâtake from her everything they can. Her wrist is broken, her nose is broken, her rib is broken, she bleeds. She bleeds. The soft grey rain falls around her.
Her blood mixes with the rainwater and runs in dark rivulets into the low places in the alley; it pools with the
Sheâs like an evil fairy from dreamland â¦
Jewellery too? Kayos asked.
Fuckin rights, the craziest most awesome jewellery youâve ever laid eyes on!
And hair accessories?
Sure. Why not? And Queen Mab would make me so rich that I would be able to have a whole collection of cars. Iâd have, like, twelve different cars that I got to drive around. A Lambo, a Porsche, a Rolls, a Jag, a hot pink Hummer, a Lotusâ
So, Kayos said, whatâs stopping you from doing that right now?
Well, I kinda got this gang thing going on â¦
They laughed, and I did too. But somehow, it wasnât funny. I lit a cigarette and thought about what other cars would be in my private collection.
Kayos and Mac started watching a movie, and I fell asleep on the couch. I dreamed about the guy in the street I had hit. He was yelling at me, but no sound was coming out of his mouth. I tried to hear him, I tried to read his lips, I tried so hard to understand. He kept coming closer and closer to me, till all I could see were his ice-blue eyes, the blood vessels in them all red and about to burst cuz heâs so angry, yelling so hard in my face, but I canât hear.
Iâm sorry! I say to him, Iâm so, so, sorry. Then I wake up, and my eyes are all wet and Iâm shaky. And it was a dream, but it was real, and that man is dead for real, and I killed him. I did to him what that driver did to my mom, and nothing can ever, ever, undo it.
SLY GIRL
I stayed home all day Saturday and made crack on the stove cuz Mac asked me to. The other girls had all gone out to work. It was pissin rain, so I didnât really want to go out anyways. I had the house to myself, so I had a few hits. I was doin pretty good with not smokin it all the time, though. I mean, I only had it once in a while now, not every day, twelve, fifteen times a day like before, when I was livin on the street. And I hadnât touched H since detox. I was doin okay.
Mac called around six, askin if I was hungry, said she was gonna meet up with the others at an Italian restaurant on Commercial, but I didnât feel like goin. Didnât feel like bein around all those beautiful hipsters and uptown mods, havin them all stare at my dog-food face. Especially since I was high.
Are you sure? Mac said. We can come pick you up.
Yeaah, no, Iâm fine. Iâll just order a pizza or somethin.
Okay, well, weâll see you when we get home then.
See you later, alligator. After I bagged up all the fresh, new, milky-white rocks, I decided to go down to Crack Alley for a bit and make some money. I knew the other girls had been out doin dirt all day with the ATMs, boosting and car stuff. I knew they would all be comin home with wads of cash, eh. And I wanted to, too.
I knew I wasnât really sposed to go out alone at night, but what the fuck? Iâd lived out there for half a year on my own, hadnât I? I knew how to handle myself out there. I remembered to take my phone so I could call for backup if I needed to. I alsogot my .22 out of the closet and shoved it in my jacket pocket. Iâd never fired it, but I liked to have it on me just in case, cuz you never know who youâre gonna run into down there.
VANCOUVER
In an alley in the East End, there is a muffled scream that no one cares to hear. It bounces against the buildings and then is lost to the night. Then there is the silvery flash of a blade. There are thuds of skull hitting pavement, boots to bones, and flesh pounding into flesh.
The girl on the ground behind the dumpster came from elsewhere; sheâs the one with the crinkly eye. She keeps her eyes closed, doesnât move, while two menâboys, reallyâtake from her everything they can. Her wrist is broken, her nose is broken, her rib is broken, she bleeds. She bleeds. The soft grey rain falls around her.
Her blood mixes with the rainwater and runs in dark rivulets into the low places in the alley; it pools with the
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