When I checked the seating plan at supper, I found out that Chris sat at my table. Another girl named Ellen also sat with us, but she was pretty quiet and didn’t say much. After filling her plate with chili, Fran joined us. I could see Pit Bull at the next table, her eyes glued to the side of my head.
Chris and Ellen started talking about winning the lottery. Whether you live free or locked up, you’ll always find someone dreaming about winning the big one. Chris said, “I’d buy a jeep, but my granny says a car is a waste of money.”
I’d get a car, I thought. A fast car.
Fran nodded. “I’m with your granny. I’d rather spend the money on a trip. I’d go to China.”
Chris shrugged. “My granny would rather go to Bingo.”
Fran got up for a second helping of chili. Man, I thought, I hope she gets off before those beans start kicking in. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Pit Bull still watching me. That girl had rabies. “Pit Bull,” I muttered, shifting my chair so I couldn’t see her.
“Huh?” Chris asked, her mouth full. She looked at the way I was turned in my chair, then glanced around and saw Pit Bull. Suddenly she started to laugh so hard that everyone turned to stare at us.
“Do you mind?” I hissed at her. All I needed was Pit Bull thinking I was telling jokes about her behind her back.
With a shrug, Chris calmed down. “Pit Bull,” she said, grinning. “That’s great. You’re a genius, Kelly.”
Just then a beautiful voice came floating up the stairway. I recognized the tune right away. It was one of the old swing songs my mom liked, but I’d never heard anyone sing it like this.
“Sister Mary!” Chris yelled. Jumping up, she ran down the hallway to hug the nun. Since when did nuns hum big band songs?
Coming into the unit, Sister Mary sat down at our table and gave me a grin. “I just came up to see how Kelly was doing. How’s the supper, ladies? I made the chili.”
Girls were crowding around our table. Smiles were everywhere, even on Pit Bull’s face. Sister Mary seemed pretty popular. “I’ve got something for you, Kelly,” she said and handed me a rolled-up poster.
“Sister Mary gives everyone a poster when they come here,” Chris said. “C’mon, open it.”
Everyone’s eyes were on me as I unrolled the poster. It was a picture straight out of a dream — a huge sky with one seagull flying, bright white in the sun. But it was wrecked by the words that ran across the bottom: LOVE YOURSELF. Yeah, right, I thought, studying the poster. Hand someone a pretty picture with a few dumb words on it, and all the problems are solved, right? But I knew better than to say what I was thinking out loud. Faking my best smile, I said, “Thanks.”
Sister Mary looked at me closely. I wondered if she could see the little white bird inside me that wanted to fly out and away. But all she did was smile and stand up. “Is everyone ready for rollerskating?” she asked.
I rolled up the poster and put it in my room. No way was I putting something that corny on my wall. Out in the unit the girls were getting ready to head to the gym for rollerskating. As we started down the stairs, I saw girls from the other two units ahead of us. Beside me walked Chris, grinning her head off. Every now and then she would glance at Pit Bull and laugh softly.
“How many girls are there in this place?” I asked her.
“Thirty. Ten in each unit.” She pointed down a hall. “That’s where the social workers’ offices are.”
Oh great, I thought. Social workers two floors down. We reached the bottom of the stairs and turned into a hallway — the long hall I’d seen from my bedroom window. Girls from the other units were watching me and whispering. I tried not to stare back. I could see Pit Bull close by, talking to girls from another unit. Spreading the word about me, I thought and watched my feet. The hallway seemed to go on forever. Finally a staff unlocked a door at the other end and we passed through.
“That’s the door to the school,” Chris told me. “The gym’s right here.”
We got the skates from the equipment room and put them on. I could hardly wait to get onto the floor. When I was a kid, I took skating lessons. I even won a few contests. I figured I could blow Pit Bull’s mind with my skating and then she would treat me differently. Maybe she would even decide to make me one of her friends. That would make life a lot easier in this place. As soon as I had my skates on I was off, skating as fast as I could. I went around and around that dinky old gym, doing all my best moves.
Sometimes skating works for me. The louder the music, the better. I ride the beat and when I’m moving fast on skates, I almost feel free. As I skated around the Marymound gym, I forgot Pit Bull and all her lousy questions. I kept going around and around, trying to work up more speed. My moves fit me like a glove, and my heavy ugly body felt beautiful. I could tell a lot of the girls were watching. When I passed Pit Bull, she looked away. She was impressed, I could tell.
I could see Chris over by the equipment room, still putting on her skates. If she didn’t get on the floor soon, she was going to miss the whole evening. About my seventh time around the gym, I got tired and slowed down. I was doing circles, going into a back corner, when a group came up behind me. They swarmed me and someone shoved me.
“Pit Bull, eh?” a voice hissed.
My shirt tore, and I stumbled. I put out my hands, but the wall slammed into my shoulder. I think I hit my head — for a second everything went dark. Then the gym came back, but it was pretty quiet. Someone had shut off the music.
“Everyone off the floor,” a staff called.
I was all right, but my shoulder ached and my head hurt. As I turned, three girls skated away from me. Pit Bull was one of them. Breathing hard, I rested against the wall. Fran skated up.
“Everything all right?” she asked.
“Yeah, sure,” I said.
“C’mon over to the equipment room,” she said.
I followed her, saying, “I’m all right, I’m all right.” Another staff called Pit Bull and her friends to the equipment room. As Fran and I skated up to them, my body felt heavy and fat again. I stared at my feet. Someone put the music back on and the other girls started skating. But they were watching me — everyone was watching.
Pit Bull put on big innocent eyes, blinked them a lot and said, “It was an accident!” Then she looked at me and said, “Right, Kelly?” She didn’t wait for my answer. “We just wanted to talk to her, but we got going too fast and bumped into her.”
“Is that right, Kelly?” Fran asked.
“Sure.” I wanted this to be over. Pit Bull ran these girls. It was obvious that she’d told one of her friends to shove me into the wall. I was lucky, really. It could have been a lot worse. If I complained now, who knew what would happen next time? Besides, I didn’t like all these people watching me. I wanted to get some space. Then I saw Pit Bull’s eyes slide down my left arm. I followed her gaze and felt sick. So that was what tore when I was pushed. My left sleeve was ripped. Everyone could see the stitches in my arm. Slowly I pulled one of the torn ends over the cut. No matter how bad things get, I thought, they can always get worse.
“Since you can’t control yourselves, you three ladies are off the floor for the evening,” Fran said, sounding angry. “C’mon — off with the skates.”
After Pit Bull and her friends took off their skates, they left the gym with one of the staff. Great, I thought. Now Pit Bull has another reason to get mad at me. She must have heard Chris giggling about the nickname. Chris was definitely someone I needed to stay away from. Going to the opposite end of the gym, I sat down. I was finished with skating for the evening. All I wanted was for it to end so that I could go back to my room. As I started unlacing my skates, someone sat down beside me.
“Get lost,” I said, without looking up. I meant it too. I was ready to haul off and shove anyone who came too close.
“When Terri does stuff like that to me, I feel like I’m outside.” It was Chris, talking so softly that I could hardly hear her. What was her problem? Couldn’t she take a hint, or didn’t people from Churchill know how to do that? I stared at the skaters, but she kept right on talking. “I feel outside,” she said, “like I’m on the road, out in the cold. Like no one will take me. Like I’ve got no family.”
I shot Chris a sideways glance. Her face looked as sad as an old story, and she kept twisting her hands. Why didn’t she just shut up and go away? This wasn’t her problem.
“Terri makes me feel as if I can’t be who I want to be,” she said, glancing at me.
So what? I wanted to say. I didn’t like talking about sad stuff, and I sure didn’t want to hear about anyone else’s problems. I had enough of my own to keep me busy, thank you. I started snapping my fingers to the music. “Can’t let it get to you.” I shrugged.
“It gets to me,” Chris said, watching the skaters. “Does your arm get itchy? Y’know — when it’s getting better?”
“I guess.” My arm hadn’t had time to get better yet. But then, nothing in my life had ever gotten better.
“I don’t like skating night.” Chris laughed, her voice high and nervous. “Too many people. I’m not a very good skater.”
I finally had to smile. Here was Chris, sitting in a back corner of the gym, keeping an eye on the new girl. She wasn’t dumping her problems on me, she was just trying to make me feel better. And her words were real, not just some dumb saying on a poster.
“C’mon,” I said. “I can show you some moves if you want. It’s easy, once you get going. And now that Pit Bull’s gone, we’ll have lots of room to move around.”