Who Owns Kelly Paddik Read Free

rules, bedtime rules and snack-time rules. They sure had more rules in lockups than they did in group homes. I followed her around, waiting for the rules about blowing your nose and tying your shoes.
    Chris was showing me the kitchen seating plan when I saw Fran go into the washroom. Suddenly I heard Fran call out, “Who’s the drip that left the tap on?”
    Chris burst out laughing. “Ever sick!” she called back.
    Fran’s head popped out the washroom door. “D’you know what I mean, or d’you know what I mean?” she sang out.
    I rolled my eyes. Dumb jokes always had me wanting to crawl into the nearest grave. Suddenly I realized someone was standing behind me, so close that I could feel her body heat. Turning quickly, I saw the girl who ran this unit, the one who’d asked me all those questions.
Pit Bull
, I thought. Why was she so interested in the back of my neck?
    â€œWhat’s so funny?” Pit Bull asked. Her lips were faking a smile, but her eyes wouldn’t have fooled anyone.
    â€œAh, you know Fran — always jokingaround,” said Chris. She lost her grin and a new kind of cool came into her face — the kind that puts you into deep freeze. Chris didn’t fake things, and she didn’t like Pit Bull. “I’ve got to go talk to someone. See you, Kelly.” She walked away.
    I decided the best thing to do was stare out a nearby window. It was either that window or a wall — the last thing I wanted to look at was Pit Bull’s face. Things got real quiet beside me, but I knew she was still there. Finally I gave up and snuck a glance at her. She was staring right at me.
    â€œI’m Terri,” she said.
    Her eyes were that pale kind of blue that looks like the sky died in them. She’d squinted them into tough little slits. With a lot of black eyeliner around them, they could really nail you to a wall. Right away she started firing more questions at me.
    â€œSo, where’d you live before here?”
    I pulled down the edge of my sleeve, even though it was long enough to cover the stitches on my left arm. “Siberia,” I said.
    â€œNo, seriously.” Her voice giggled, but her eyes kept shoving me against the wall.
    Sweet’n’sour
, I thought. “In a group home,” I said.
    â€œWhich school did you go to?” she asked.
    â€œWhy?” I asked, staring out the window.
    â€œJust wondering if you know any of my friends,” she said.
    I doubt it
, I wanted to say, but the fact was that I probably did know them. Everyone knew them. They were the kind of girls most people spent their time trying to forget. I decided this was probably a wise moment to change the subject. “So, what d’you do here for fun after supper?” I asked.
    â€œRollerskating.” Pit Bull shrugged. “I know, it’s kid stuff, but it’s something to do. You any good at rollerskating?”
    â€œI’m okay,” I said carefully.
    Her pale blue eyes zoned right in on me. “You suck up to staff?”
    â€œNo!” I knew right then that I was going to have to stop talking to Chris. She was nice, but she was too friendly with the staff, and that didn’t go well with Pit Bull. I didn’t like Pit Bull, but I knew how these places worked. I’d had one little chat with Chris, and already trouble was breathing down my neck. I didn’t want trouble, I just wanted out of here.
    Pit Bull started to nail me with anotherquestion just as Fran came out of the washroom. She was picking at her teeth with a paperclip.
    â€œHey, Terri — why don’t you help me unload supper from the dumb waiter?” she asked. Looking right at me, Pit Bull let a smile ooze across her face. Then she linked her arm with Fran’s and walked away.
What a fake
, I thought.
Talk about sucking up
.
    I went back to my room and stared out my window. Every time I moved into a new place, there were so