Glass Read Online Free PDF Page B

yet,
    actually.” Those seven words say
    much more than he needs to know.
    Grady looks at my eyes, and his
    grin grows real wide. Oh, yeah.
    I can see it perfectly now.
    Whatever. If he knows, it’s because
    he gets high too. “I came
    by to pick up an application.”
    Funny time of the day for that.
    Let me see if I can dig one up.
    He goes into the back room.
    It takes a few minutes, but he
    finally returns, application in hand.
    You sure you want to work here?
    Mostly what’s open is graveyard.
    You’d have to put up with people
    like him. He points to the slot addict.
    The guy doesn’t even turn around.
    Fuck you, he says, feeding
    a ten into the money reader.
    “It’s not like I really want to
    work here, but I need a job
    and my choices are limited.”
    The monster goes on to tell him all
    about Hunter. About living with my
    parents, studying for my GED,
    and wanting a way to escape.
    “I’ll be eighteen in a couple
    of weeks. But I can’t do anything
    until I can save up enough
    for a little place. Food. Diapers.”
    I smile. “Miscellaneous.”
    Yeah, well, if you ever need help
    hooking up with that, give me
    a buzz. You know where to find me.

A ll the Way to Stockton
    And it was right here,
    practically under my
    nose (ha-ha) all the time?
    As I start out the door,
    the slot machine freak lights
    a cigarette. Now, I haven’t
    indulged that habit in quite
    a while either. I quit when I
    was pregnant—figured I
    was eighty-sixing one bad habit,
    why not lose that one too?
    But meth and nicotine buddy up
    real fine. The smell of fresh-
    lit tobacco sucks me right up
    tight against Slot Man.
    “Could I bum one of those?”
    I’m flat out of cash at
    the moment, and still under
    eighteen. Grady might
    stroke me by pretending
    he doesn’t know my age,
    but the cameras are rolling
    and stings for selling booze
    or smokes to underage people
    are common. I don’t want
    to get him in trouble, not when
    he might be helpful in the future.
    Besides, one cancer stick, with
    no more in a drawer, won’t
    get me hooked again. Right?
    Slot dude smiles a knowing
    smile, shakes one from the
    hard pack. You owe me one.
    Yech. He’s scruffy. Kind
    of smelly. I definitely hope
    he doesn’t think I owe him.
    Grady hands me some matches.
    No law against that, right?
    “Thanks. I’ll be in touch.”
    I retreat outside, into the cool
    of sunless morning. My hands
    shake a bit as I fire the Camel Light.
    It tastes like heaven. Like
    if I could just keep smoking
    it, I’d never need to eat again.
    If you’ve never smoked, you won’t
    understand that, but if you have,
    you know exactly what I mean.
    I suck the poison slowly,
    with great, immediate pleasure.
    It’s almost as good as…
    Okay, maybe not as good as
    that. But it calms me,
    convinces me to go on home,
    do whatever is necessary
    to keep my mom and Scott off
    my back. Apologize like I’m
    really, truly sorry. And, in
    several ways, I really am. But
    there’s no turning back now.

I Tiptoe Through the Door
    Hoping the house is still
    silent, and it is. Down
    the hall, into my room,
    where I quietly seek
    out a new stash place,
    then lie down on my bed.
    The pink silk quilt is almost
    too soft. Part of me—a small
    part, growing smaller by
    the minute—demands penance.
    That small part, the Kristina
    part, keeps whispering
    what a fool the other,
    Bree part, is. “Not only
    were you stupid to sneak
    back to the monster,” she
    mumbles, “but ten to one
    you’re going to get caught.
    Mom and Scott will know.”
    The Bree part just stares
    contentedly at the ceiling,
    really comfortable for the
    first time in too many months.
    Meth. Tobacco. A chance
    at a spectacular guy, even
    if he does live three hours
    away, over a major mountain.
    I get to Reno sometimes.
    Will he come just for me?
    “Yeah, right,” Kristina
    says. “Trey is going to
    dump Robyn (who no
    doubt gives him head
    after giving him money)
    and drive over the Sierras
    for a frumpy