Who Owns Kelly Paddik by Beth Goobie

Chapter One
    I sat in the car next to my social worker and stared out the window. We were out of the downtown area now, driving up Main Street into Winnipeg’s north end. The car passed store after store, then a McDonald’s. A woman at a bus stop stared straight at me, then looked away with nothing on her face. That was what it was like when you were a kid in the system. So many people looking right through you with polite nothingness on their faces. It always made me wonder if thenothingness came from them or me.
    I’m fifteen years old and I’m being driven to a lockup
. The thought kept pounding through my head. Outside the car, yellow leaves blew down the street like sadness, like freedom. The car turned off Main Street and passed a row of houses. At the end of the street stood a huge black iron gate. It was like something out of a horror movie. The car drove through the gate into a parking lot. Ahead of us was a tall, very old brick building. The sign out front said: MARY-MOUND SCHOOL FOR GIRLS.
    Two days ago I’d been here for a meeting, but this time I was here to stay. As the car got close to the front door, I saw the wires in the windows. Wire run through glass makes windows harder to smash and climb out. That means you can’t get out — you’re stuck wherever you are until someone decides to let you out.
    I wasn’t even inside yet, and I could feel the walls moving in on me. Waves of panic rose up my throat, and I felt as if I was drowning. I couldn’t let them do this to me,
I couldn’t
.
    Pushing open the car door, I dug my feet into the ground and took off for the gate. I could hear my social worker yelling, but then a hugeroaring filled my ears. At the parking lot entrance, the horror movie gate still stood open, waiting for me.
    I had to get away
— that was all I could think about. The gate grew and grew, and then I was through it and out in the street. Everything in me pulled together and began to run, as fast as my heart was beating, faster.
    Then I heard feet pounding after me. They were gorilla feet — loud and heavy. I didn’t have to look back to know they were a man’s. He was right behind me, and I gave up then because men are stronger and meaner than girls. I know that if I know anything. I stopped running and felt the air stand still around me. I was gasping, trying to catch my breath as I watched the street run away without me. The man’s hand touched my arm — not too heavy, but there.
    â€œI’ll give you a minute to catch your breath,” he said.
    I didn’t say anything. He stood there panting, waiting for me to stop breathing so hard. I wouldn’t look at him, just stared down the street and pretended his hand wasn’t on my arm. Finally he said, “Kelly, I’m Jim. I think we’ll head back now.”
    We walked back in silence. I kept kickingat leaves and watching my feet.
Prisoner feet
, I thought as we walked through the gate. When we got to the car, my social worker glared at me.
    â€œThat wasn’t very smart, Kelly Paddik.”
    I tried to look at her as if I’d never seen her before and couldn’t care less. Inside, though, I was crying — crying in my hands and stomach and legs.
    I looked away from my social worker’s face, and then I saw the woman standing beside her. Even though she wasn’t wearing a headdress, I could tell right away that she was a nun. Her uniform was a light brown, and there was a small cross on her chest. Seeing a nun scared me so bad I thought my knees and elbows were going to come apart. It’s just that in stories and movies there are always nuns in places like this. That’s how you know you’re locked up for good.
    â€œHello, Kelly. I’m Sister Mary.” She was so short, the top of her head came to my shoulders. And she was old — grandmother old. If all the staff in here were like this, I could run away easy. This