When Doc Dooley told me two boys dropped off my backpack? Those boys, once, twice, I guess, saved me. And when he said they said to tell me they were sorry? I’ve been thinking about that.
Evan and Dump. Were they sorry they saved me from the man in the underpass who was trying to mess with me? Were they sorry when the winter turned so fucking cold here in Minnie-Soh-Tah that they couldn’t NOT take all three of us to live with Fucking Frank? I was sick. We couldn’t live outside in the van any longer. Evan needed his drugs. Dump went where Evan went. Were they sorry I wouldn’t do what Fucking Frank asked? (What he wanted all the girls in Seed House to do, if they wanted to stay.) Were they sorry they didn’t let me die in the attic of Seed House?
Sorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorry.
I cut that word out, too, but it keeps growing back, tougher and meaner.
