Editor’s note: This is the first of a two-part excerpt from Lisa Savage’s as-yet-unpublished novel, Heaven Spelled Backwards. Savage, who ran for U.S. Senate in 2020, has long been a leader and activist with Maine’s Green Independent Party. Warning: this excerpt contains descriptions of sexual violence.
•••
Teaching school in low-income rural Maine for 25 years was in some ways a traumatizing experience. I taught all the grades eventually, and while teens often work hard to cover up what’s happening at home, little kids just come right out and tell you. Parent meetings are pretty revealing many times, as well. Almost none of the events in my book are completely made up; nearly all are based on actual experiences and circumstances that I knew of. In particular, sex as a commodity to be exchanged for necessities is commonplace for girls growing up in poverty. Also, statistics show that a runaway is usually trafficked within 48 hours of leaving home. I wrote Heaven Spelled Backwards partly to process my own trauma and partly out of love for all the girls, boys, enbies, men and women who carry an unbelievable number of adverse childhood experiences forward with them into life. I see them, and I hope that my readers will see them, too.
— Lisa Savage, October 2023
Kayleigh, 1996
My mom might get evicted on Friday. But I hope not. She says we all get evicted when she gets evicted, but it seems like it happens to her the most since she’s the one who does all the crying.
I don’t cry anymore. I’m not a baby. What good does it do to cry? No one feels sorry for you.
I don’t lie anymore either. Unless I have to. It’s too hard to keep track of what I told people and then they get super mad, which is usually why I was lying in the first place. To keep them from getting mad.
When you get evicted they put this paper on your front door so all the neighbors know and can dis you like, Your mama getting evicted again? She don’t make enough as a ho for rent? I tear the paper down as soon as it goes up because I’m not trying to tell the world we missed a couple rents. We needed diapers! And my mom had to pay extra to get the electric turned back on after it was out for like a week. We couldn’t watch TV and we couldn’t charge the phone. We used to be able to charge it in the car if we had gas to run it, but now the car got pounded and we need a hundred and seventy-five dollars to get it back.
My mom doesn’t need a car to get to work. She can walk to the beauty salon.
Last week my mom took me with her to the salon. It’s really just her friend’s kitchen. My mom said she was going to help me look more beautiful, like her. We’re both skinny and blonde but I have brown eyes and my mom has blue. We both got acrylic nails, which are these fancy fingernails they glue onto your real ones. Mom said my hands looked sexy, which is good I guess, but they hurt. She said it would stop me biting my nails, which it did, but it hurt a lot, so when I got to school the next day I couldn’t stand it anymore and I started trying to pull them off. My teacher said to stop fooling with them but I couldn’t help it.
My reading teacher looked at me with sad eyes, which I hate, and she tried to get me to stop fooling with them too. The computer teacher might have acrylic nails herself because hers look perfect and she can type really fast even with them on. I asked her when she came to check why my login wasn’t working, “Do your nails hurt?”She said no and she helped me fix my password so it had uppercase and lowercase plus my favorite number, which is 9. Then she told our ed tech she had to make a phone call and the kids got really noisy right away. Not me, because I do want to learn how to type fast with any nails I happen to have. Now that I’ve gotten three of them off, my hands are kind of lopsided but I can still type almost as well. Maybe once I’ve gotten all of them off it will be easier. My favorite letters are Q and P because I like to use my pinkies. I was able to get those nails off first, plus my right thumb. That’s the one you use for spaces between words. Or sentences.
My teacher got a phone call during math. She kneeled down like she was going to help me with my work and whispered, “Kayleigh, they want to talk to you in the office. You’re not in trouble.” This is such a lie. If you have to go to the office then you or someone in your family is definitely in trouble.
When my dad was here he helped us know what to say when we got called to the office. If we didn’t say the right things we could get sent to foster and no one wants that. So I would lie and say my mom and dad never left us alone with the babies. Or that we always wore our seatbelts in the car. Then the police lady would say, “Are you sure you’re telling us the truth, Kayleigh?”And I would get mixed up about what I told them sometimes, so I don’t do that anymore. I don’t want to lie, so I just don’t say anything when they ask me questions.
This time the questions were about my nails. I was really surprised. Who cares about nails?
When did you get these beautiful nails put on, Kayleigh?
That was the principal and I knew she was lying because she did not really think they were beautiful. She has regular nails, not acrylics, that look like she paints them herself.
Did you put them on yourself?
What kind of a stupid question is that? No one puts acrylic nails on themselves because they have to use their hands to do it. These questions are trying to trick me.
How long did it take to put on the nails?
I don’t know! Like, an hour? I’m a kid, I don’t know how to tell time.
Who put on the nails? Was it your mom? Who is your mom’s friend? Where does she live? Did it cost a lot of money?
Now they are just being nosey because it is none of their business. There is no law about acrylic nails and I know that because practically everyone has them that is a grown up that lives around here. A grown up lady, I mean. And most kids don’t until they’re in middle school. I’m the only first-grader at my school who has these nails. Probably Aubree, who is jealous of me, told the principal.
In Florida someone called the child protect service because they said we were driving with my brother on the floor in front of my mom. It is true that with two baby seats we didn’t have room for him to have a seatbelt. And we got a ticket that cost three hundred dollars! My dad could never pay that kind of ticket and after he got a warranty then he got put in jail. Then we moved up to here and we have enough seatbelts without my dad in the car.
If we get evicted I’m worried my dad won’t be able to find us when he gets out. I’m sure he would want to because even if him and my mom fight a lot he loves me and calls me his little princess.
We are going to work on your looks.
That’s what my mom said when we went and got our nails done. My mom’s are extra long and dark pink with sparkles. One of them has a jewel that cost extra. After, when we got home, my mom took some pictures of me. “Make sure your hands are in the picture,”she said. I spread my fingers out on my bare belly and she said, “Good! Just like that.”I also spread out my fingers over my face and peeked through. My mom put my hair in a messy bun and added some of her most sparkly earrings. I got my ears pierced last month and the holes are still kind of sore so I didn’t like that part. What I did like was her putting her own makeup on me, pink lipstick and sky blue eyeshadow. She plucked my eyebrows too, which also hurt. “Wait until you get a tattoo if you want to know what hurts,”she said. I was looking forward to getting a tattoo until she said that. I wonder how old you have to be.
Mom was gone in the morning when we woke up and Bradlee and I got ready for school in case she came back in time for the bus. We couldn’t leave the babies alone so Bradlee said he would stay home and play games and I went on the bus without him. I was pretty hungry but the bus was late so I couldn’t eat breakfast at school. My teacher said, “What’s wrong Kayleigh? Why are you crying?”She said it quietly so no one else could hear. I told her about breakfast and she went into her drawer and gave me two granola bars and some fruit leather.
“Why does she get to have snacks? It’s not snack time!”Aubree said, but our teacher didn’t say anything.
When I got home Bradlee was in a bad mood and left without changing the big baby’s diaper. I changed him and got baby poop under my fingernails but then I washed my hands as long as the ABC song and turned on Elmo. I was heating up water to make cuppa noodles when my mom finally came home. She looked really tired but her nails looked gorgeous.
“I got the rent money!”she said and I hugged her. She ate my noodles and almost fell asleep at the table. I made some more noodles to celebrate us not getting evicted. I made twice as many so the babies could have some too. Then Bradlee came home and got mad because there were no noodles left to make. And no milk to have Lucky Charms, so he ate them out of the box. I thought about going into my mom’s purse to get some money so he could go to the store but I didn’t want her to get mad at me so I didn’t. Luckily tomorrow is a school day so Bradlee and me will get breakfast and lunch. And snack. It might be the day school gives us a box of canned soup and boxed mac and cheese to bring home, but I forget what day that is.
Mac and cheese is not as good as soup because you need milk and butter to make it. I used baby formula once when we ran out of milk but it made the mac and cheese taste disgusting.
The bus was late again but my teacher said I could have breakfast anyway. I was afraid the lunch ladies would be mad but they had a tray all ready for me, pancakes and fruit cocktail and chocolate milk. They said I could take it back to class but I’d rather sit in the cafeteria even if I’m the only one. If I go back to my room Aubree will be jealous and say something like, Why does she get to eat in the room when breakfast is already over? I hate Aubree and if she doesn’t mind her own business I’m gonna beat her up and I’m gonna take her backpack and throw it in the mud. I’m going to tell the other kids she picks her boogers and eats them (which she does). She better stop messing with me.
Kayleigh, 2004
The first time I ran away from home I was around seven years old and pissed at my mom about something, I can’t remember what. I ended up next door watching cartoons with the kids who lived there and went home when it started to get dark. No one asked me where I’d been.
The second time I was fourteen and it was for real. I’d moved from my dad’s back to my mom’s because she needed my help with the kids. It all started on a snow day when vocational school was canceled but Kyle and his sister had to stand outside waiting for their school bus. We could hardly even see through the snow falling so fast. I waited outside with them and I couldn’t believe their school hadn’t canceled. My hands were freezing even wrapped around my coffee mug and the bus was like twenty minutes behind schedule. I was just about to say, Fuck it, come back inside,when a spot of yellow appeared inching toward us. I was relieved. I did not want to spend the day cooped up inside, babysitting.
When I got back my mom was cursing and making toast for herself because her job at the Dollar Store didn’t have snow days.
After she left, I went back to bed and slept until around noon. I think what woke me up was my mom’s boyfriend banging open the door of the trailer because he was trying to hold a pizza box in one hand and a bag with groceries — mostly beer — in the other. I took a long pee and joined him at the kitchen table for breakfast pizza. I was only a little bit surprised when he offered me a beer. If my mom was around he would not have done that, but anytime she wasn’t home I was suddenly twenty-one.
The beer tasted good. I think I was a little dehydrated after sleeping so long. I drank another one and we moved to the couch to watch TV. John drank all the remaining beers and turned on porno. I was curious cause I had never seen a threesome before and it was a little bit arousing, honestly. After awhile I noticed John was breathing kind of heavy and had his hand down the front of his pants. He looked at me in a weird way and said, “Don’t tell your mom, alright?”
After that he unzipped and pulled my hand down onto his hard cock. I didn’t resist so he kept going. Eventually he was on top of me with his hand between my legs and I have to admit it felt pretty good. I turned away when he tried to kiss me with his beer breath, but I let him push my legs apart and get on his knees between them with his big erection sticking straight out. I was kind of proud that I had done that to him and I realized I was getting wet down there so I let him try and put it in. “Just the tip,” he said, “just to see if it feels good.”It did feel good and he quickly put in much more than the tip. That hurt but after a few thrusts he came with a groan and pulled out, spilling goo all over my panties that were bunched up under us. Then he actually went down on me and with his tongue made me come so hard I yelled out loud.
When I was back to my senses I found some clean underpants and wiped up the wet spot on the couch with paper towels. John’s porno was still on but he seemed to be asleep, so I switched it off before the kids got home.
I didn’t feel anything, except a little sore in my vagina. I wasn’t ashamed but I also wasn’t guilty. He’s thirty-five and I’m fourteen. How was what happened my fault?
Unfortunately John took our experience as giving him the go-ahead to sneak into my room at night. He would wake me up and I would push him away. I didn’t want to do it with him again, I didn’t want him to wake up my little sister who I slept with, and I didn’t want my mom to find out.
Then one night she caught him coming out of my room (nothing happened) and got really mad — at me! I tried to tell her the truth about the snow day but she didn’t want to hear it. She started screaming a lot of bad things about me and the little kids were crying, and then she threw my clothes out onto the lawn. Some of them landed in dog shit but she locked the door after shoving me out so I couldn’t clean them up and I just left them there.
My little half-sister was at the window calling, Kayleigh! Kayleigh! But I just blew her a kiss and kept walking.
I walked until I got out to the main road and then I stuck my thumb out. It didn’t take very long for someone to stop and pick me up.
It was an older lady who said, “I worry about you hitchhiking.”She let me plug my phone into her car charger and I sent a text to my dad and to Bradlee. Neither one of them answered back. She took me to Waterville even though it was almost midnight at that point. My dad’s girlfriend’s trailer was dark and their car was gone. Great. I knocked on the door anyway and tried it but it was locked. While I was looking around to see if there was a window I could get open, the next-door neighbor stuck his head out and asked me what I was doing.
“I’m Steve’s daughter, Kayleigh. Do you know where he is?”
“They’re on a trip. I’m Richie. Never seen you around before.”
“I’ve been living with my mom but she kicked me out.”
He invited me in and said I could sleep on his couch. The next day he said I could stay if I cleaned up the trailer, which was disgusting with dishes that looked like they hadn’t been washed in a year. But I did it because I figured this was the best place to wait until my dad got back to town.
The thing is, after I spent all day cleaning, the price went up. Now Richie wanted a blow job for my second night on the couch. I spent an hour texting all my friends and even my crazy aunt in New Hampshire to try and find another place on short notice.
Richie said, “Well, do we have a deal?” Without a way to charge my phone I was never going to get out of there, so I gave in and he got his blow job. Like John, he watched porno while we did it. I suppose that was good because it was over quickly, but it was really bad porno with a lot of violence and that scared me.
The next morning I left before Richie got up. I stole forty bucks out of his wallet and I stole his phone charger too. Fucking asshole. If he went to the police I’d be sure and show them the video of him getting a blow job from underage me. Yup, I had my phone set up and recording and he never even noticed. I know how to take care of myself. Anybody who messes with me is going to eventually regret it.
Hitchhiking is always risky but it’s usually better in the day than after dark. This time a guy picked me up in a pretty new truck, but when he asked me “Where to?”I didn’t answer fast enough and he figured out I had no place to go. That was a mistake and I won’t be making it again. It’s gotta be quick and convincing, even if I have to totally make shit up.
He took me to the speakeasy, as he called it. This was just a regular-looking house in a pretty crappy neighborhood. When we got there no one was around, or maybe they were all asleep. He showed me a room where I could put my backpack and I plugged in the phone charger right away to check my messages.
Hey girl I asked my mom if you could stay over for a couple days but she sad no. Wat a bitch [angry emoji] — from Alayna. Aunt Gretchen still had me blocked even though I’m her own niece. Nobody else even answered. I tried my brother Bradlee again. After an hour, still nothing.
The dude who gave me the ride had disappeared and I was a little scared to look around so I just crawled into bed with my clothes on and fell asleep playing Super Monkey Ball. Hunger woke me up so I thought I’d explore the neighborhood and try to find a store. But I couldn’t find a door that I could unlock from the inside. I did find a refrigerator full of beer and snacks though, so I ate a bunch of string cheese even though I didn’t know whose food I was eating. Some potato chips too. Then I slept some more. I must have still been really tired from waking up so many times a night at my mom’s, protecting myself from John.
I heard people moving around downstairs and found two girls in the kitchen. One of them was making popcorn in the microwave and that fake butter smell almost made me gag. The other girl looked about my age and had a huge belly popping out of her jeans. I hope when I get pregnant someday it won’t make my belly button pop out like that, because it really looks disgusting.
“You got a smoke?” asked the popcorn girl. Her hair was stringy and greasy, which made me wonder if there was a shower I’d be able to use. The pregnant girl told me her name was Rose and she pointed me down the hall to the bathroom where I could shower. I had left without any of my stuff, like shampoo and conditioner, but luckily there was both and plenty of hot water. It felt so good that I stayed in there for a long time. When I came out I used one of the towels hanging there, hoping it didn’t have any diseases on it. I brushed my teeth with my finger and some toothpaste by the sink. No chance of blow-drying my hair; I’d just have to let it dry. I combed it out with my fingers and put on some clean clothes, which felt really good.
When I got back to the bedroom there were two dudes in there sitting on the bed. One had given me the ride there the night before, but we didn’t discuss that.
“Wow, you look really pretty,” said the bearded one. He turned to the ride guy and said, “Well played.”
“You’re not a virgin, are you?” asked ride guy.
“None of your beeswax,” I said, and they both laughed.
“That’s alright, we’ll find out soon enough,” said beard guy.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, nothing. Don’t worry about it. We’re getting some takeout. Here’s the menu. Let me know what you want to eat.”
I ordered a meatball sub and a small Caesar salad. “Can I get a drink?” I asked.
“Sure, get anything you want,” said beard guy.
Then he was on his knees dragging a cardboard box out from under the bed. It had plastic gallons of vodka in it, a brand I never heard of, and cartons of orange juice.
“Want a real drink while we wait?” he asked.
The orange juice looked good so I said OK and he made me a screwdriver. It was way too strong but I didn’t complain, just took a big gulp and then added more OJ.
The two guys drank silently for awhile and looked at their phones. I checked them out and didn’t think they seemed very dangerous. Beard guy was short and skinny, probably somebody I could kick in the balls and run if I had to. Ride guy was bigger and handsomer. Maybe I could slip out of the house when the food got delivered? I’d have to pack my stuff in front of them or leave it behind. I didn’t want to do that and I definitely didn’t want to lose the phone charger.
“Want to make some money tonight?” ride guy asked. “Do you like to dance? Are you willing to show your tits? You have really nice ones.”
“I didn’t realize you noticed.”
“I noticed,” he said. “Pull your shirt up and let’s see them. Mmm, mmm. Yessuh.”
I still had my bra on so I’m not sure what he was getting so excited about. Beard guy was watching us without saying anything.
“I can dance in my jeans and bra,” I said. “But it’s going to cost you a hundred dollars. And no touching.”
“OK,” said beard guy. He got up and closed the door. I found a good song on my phone to dance to. I got a hundred dollars then and two hundred more that night when I danced for the people who came to the speakeasy to party. I helped sell drinks too. They seemed pretty cheap at a buck apiece and I was able to make another eighteen in tips.
A lot of people had phones taking pictures of me but I kind of liked it. Maybe if I was good enough it would turn up on MySpace and I would get famous. So what if my mom saw it? Fuck her.
•••
I’d never lived in such a big place before. My own room, shared with no one. A safe to keep my money in! And a refrigerator full of food. It was great until I started getting claustrophobia real bad.
After the first night of dancing I had three hundred dollars to put in the safe. Beard guy gave me the combination and an envelope I could write my name on so my money didn’t get mixed up with the other girls’ money. Oh, and there was a washer and dryer in a little room beside the kitchen. It was the first time in my life that I didn’t have to use a laundromat.
Tim, the ride guy, took me clothes shopping at Walmart, but I still had over two hundred dollars in my envelope. I bought some cute bras and underwear, skinny jeans, and a warm jacket with fake fur around the hood. If I had known then what was soon to happen, I wouldn’t have wasted money on the jacket.
That night when I danced, Tim and beard guy persuaded me that I’d make more in tips if I took off my jeans. I wasn’t sure I was going to, but they were right. The minute I unzipped my pants the customers cheered and pelted me with twenty-dollar bills rolled into little balls. I kept dancing while I collected them and stuffed them into the pockets of the jeans I was wiggling out of. Then I stuffed them into my underwear.
I was glad to be making money. I’d had a toothache for longer than I could remember and had been chewing on only one side of my mouth. Once I had five hundred saved up I was going to ask Tim to take me to the dentist.
I was so dumb that I was actually surprised when he said no.
What the fuck? Was I a prisoner here now? I got a little bit panicky and tried to open the front door. It was still locked and only a key could unlock it. I ran to the back door and tried it. Same thing. All the windows I tried wouldn’t open either.
Tim and the bearded guy didn’t try to stop me; they just sat in the kitchen drinking beer and laughing. After I screamed at the top of my lungs hoping a neighbor would hear me, Tim grabbed me from behind and covered my mouth with his smelly hand. So I bit him. Then he kicked me, hard, and I fell down. The two of them carried me up to my bedroom, zip-tied my hands behind me and threw me on the bed. Was I surprised when they took turns fucking me? Not surprised by then, just really, really angry.
I was pissed at the two other girls for not coming to help me, until I had many hours alone in my bed to realize that, 1., the same things had probably happened to them, and 2., Rose was very pregnant, so what could she really do to help me?
I no longer had my hands free to use my phone. It was still on my bedside table, useless. I could tell what time it was that first day, but someone had taken the charger and the battery was already down to thirty percent.
Eventually I got off the bed and went into the bathroom to pee. I could shut the door by backing into it, and my underpants were down around my ankles anyway, so I didn’t need my hands to take a piss, but I couldn’t wipe myself and couldn’t get the door back open. I stayed in there for what seemed like hours until it was after dark and the music started downstairs.
Finally a drunk partier slammed open the bathroom door and saw me there. I kicked my underwear off and ran past him down the hall. Got into my room and pushed the door shut behind me. Had another panic attack. All that night footsteps on the stairs made my heart speed up again. But no one else came, and when the party noise died down I slept an hour or two. I kept waking up thinking Tim was on me again but it was always just a bad dream, and then it would take forever for my heart to stop racing, and then I would sleep a little more.
The next day I went downstairs naked except for my bra and with my hands still tied with plastic cuffs behind my back. My wrists were really starting to hurt by then with the plastic digging into them. Rose was at the kitchen table and she looked at me with the saddest eyes but she didn’t say anything. She got up and found a bowl, poured cereal and milk into it, and offered me a spoonful. I realized I was crying when I tasted salty tears.
Beard guy came in when I was on my second bowl. He grabbed me by the hair and lifted me off the seat a few inches. “Are you ready to behave yourself?” I nodded as Rose scurried out of the room. “Say it,” he said. “Say, ‘I’m ready to behave myself.’”
So I said it and he cut the zip ties. I ran upstairs and shut myself in my room for the rest of the day. I was hungry, but not hungry enough to leave my cell.
After that, every single minute of every day I was planning how to escape. Also how to stash food in my room so I didn’t have to eat downstairs. No one seemed to care as long as I danced in my new underwear that felt like chains attached to handcuffs every time I put them on. I never wore my jeans to dance again and any tips I managed to tuck into my bra or panties were removed by beard guy at the end of the night. I was pretty sure he was not putting any money into an envelope with my name on it.
I did not dare talk to Rose and the other girl, Neveah, about escaping. I couldn’t trust them to keep my plan a secret. I also wondered how long they’d been there without figuring out something themselves.
The night Rose had her baby I thought my chance had come, but the doors stayed locked from the outside after they let this older lady in, who I guess must have been a midwife. She took the baby with her when she went.
I didn’t have the guts to start a fire while Rose was recovering from the birth. I could hear her crying down the hall behind her closed door. I would wait for her to recover, and when I was ready to make my move I hoped she and Neveah would escape with me.
I had hidden a lighter or two in odd places downstairs. That part was easy, because partiers were always leaving them laying around.
I wasn’t sure where the best place to start the fire would be — upstairs or downstairs? I thought the neighbors would be most likely to notice if the flames were really close to the windows right away. I didn’t want to kill anybody, I just needed to get the fuck out of there. The best time would be right before sunrise, when everyone in the house was deep asleep. So at what I guessed was around five a.m., I set the living room curtains on fire and went upstairs to wait for the sirens.
It was the longest half hour of my life. I smelled the smoke that crept up the stairs, but no one else seemed to have noticed yet. I rolled up my blanket and put it under the door to keep the smoke out. I had to keep my head clear. So far, no smoke alarms had gone off. Big surprise.
When the fire trucks finally screamed up to the house I could hear Rose and Neveah yelling to one another. When one of them screamed Where’s Kayleigh? I knew it was time to make my move. Also to maybe show them what was possible. My legs were shaking as I put on my boots and then used a lamp to break my window. It broke the inside one but bounced off the storm. I reared back and kicked with all my strength and the storm window shattered. I kicked out the rest of the shards as best I could and threw my quilt over the windowsill so it hung inside and out. Then I stuck my legs through and used my hands to push off. I didn’t jump so much as fall, and landed in the bushes below. I didn’t stop to see if I’d broken any bones, just got to my feet and started running like hell toward the main street of the town.
I never looked back to see if anyone was following me. Rose and Neveah would be if they had any sense. Once I was a few blocks away I slowed down a bit because the sidewalks were icy. I had no idea where I was going, just toward the lights of the 24/7 store where there would be people who might help me. I didn’t think to call the police, because they only hurt people like me, arresting our dads or calling child protective services on us. But that was a chance I might have to take.
By the time I got into the light of the store with gas pumps out front, I realized a big mistake: running away without my coat. What was I thinking? I wasn’t likely to succeed at escaping if I kept making bonehead mistakes like that.
Focus, Kayleigh, I told myself angrily. You’re all you’ve got. Don’t fuck this up.
There was a pay phone outside the store. Maybe I wouldn’t have to ask a potentially dangerous stranger for help after all. It was tempting to go into the warm store, but I knew I looked pretty crazy with wild hair, no coat, and pajamas. I’d be more or less exposed inside or outside when Tim came looking for me. With the icy receiver in my hand, I pushed zero and waited for an operator. If calling Bradlee collect didn’t work, I’d try Aunt Gretchen in New Hampshire.
How would she get to Maine to help me? No idea.
While I was waiting for Bradlee to pick up, a vehicle pulled into the parking lot. It wasn’t the speakeasy’s truck, but I still turned away from it and leaned into the phone kiosk to hide my face. No answer from Bradlee. Did I still remember my aunt’s phone number? I tried a couple combinations with no luck before the operator got tired of me and said she was hanging up.
“Wait,” I said. But it was too late to ask her to call 911.
Someone was approaching. Maybe they just wanted to use the phone, but my heart pounded again. I could run from the speakeasy guys, but was I fast enough to circle the store and make it through the front door before they caught up with me?
It wasn’t anyone I knew. It was a woman in a light purple coat and a fuzzy knitted beanie.
“Do you need some help?” she asked from a respectful distance. I shook my head, not knowing whether it was safe to trust her. “Do you need quarters to make a call?”
I nodded and let her come close enough to dump some cold coins into my hand. I was in too much of a hurry to thank her. I turned back to the phone and tried Bradlee again, but he still didn’t answer. The woman went into the store. While I was trying some other combinations that might be my aunt’s, she came out with a coffee, her breath pluming in the dawn light. She got into her car like someone in a hurry and waved to me before she drove away.
I was relieved and also disappointed. Why couldn’t I find the courage to tell her, Yes, I do need help? Anyway, she looked like someone on her way to work with a mean boss who might be mad if she was late.
I still hadn’t given up and dialed 911, but I was close because I was getting really frustrated. Idiot, I told myself. Remember Gretchen’s phone number! I slammed down the receiver and put my freezing-cold dialing hand into my armpit to warm it up.
Another woman came around the corner of the store. She was older than the quarter lady and wearing a long puffy coat in a silvery color. Why had I not heard her car drive in?
She took off her coat and held it out to me. I wasn’t sure what to do. I really did need a coat, but it might be a trap. My sweaty hair was starting to freeze to my neck and I realized I was shivering hard.
She took a slow step toward me and I let her. Then she closed the gap and wrapped me in the coat.
“Let me give you some breakfast,” she said. She knelt down and started to zip up the coat. Then she said the most astonishing thing: “I was a sex worker when I was fifteen.”
How did she know I’d turned fifteen?
The second part of this two-part excerpt will run in our December issue.
