The Speed Queen Read Online Free PDF Page B

school was I going to?
    Mrs. Drake wanted me to retake the test and a bunch of other ones, and I did. I did fine. They were easy. The big one said I would enjoy a career helping other people.

8
    I have no idea what my IQ is. In grade school I got B's and C's, and then C's and D's in high school. I didn't like high school, the teachers made me feel stupid. I didn't see the point. I learned more from watching TV and reading books. My dad had really wanted me to go to college, so I did. Lamont used to call me his college girl. I liked that at first.
    I've gotten smarter since I've been here. That's one good thing, it gives you time to think. In the morning one of the trusties rolls the book cart around and you get to pick one. They've got all of yours, but they're always out. The last one I read was an old one — Cujo. I think I liked it, how the rabies made this regular dog into a monster. At first I thought it would be stupid —I mean, who's really afraid of a dog? —but it was good. You could almost believe something like that could happen.
    The cart's got everything: Danielle Steel, Mary Higgins Clark —all the good ones. Sometimes the good parts are missing, like when you cut coupons out of the newspaper, but I like filling things in on my own.
    You're allowed two books of your own here, and one has to be religious. Besides the Bible, I have my road atlas. Discover America! the cover says. I lie on my bunk and drive all across the country. I just pick a road and go.
    I read the Bible every day. Not much, just a page or so. When Sister Perpetua comes, we talk about it. She's a good teacher, she knows what it's like to lose yourself. She's an orphan. Darcy said her family was on vacation in New Mexico when they were in an accident, and only Sister Perpetua lived. Sometimes I picture it on Route 14, the Turquoise Trail. Maybe they're driving a station wagon, and her dad tries to pass this gravel truck on a blind rite. When she tucks her hair back, her one ear looks like melted wax. Sometimes I come up with things she hasn't thought about, and she nods like she's thinking and says we'll talk about it next time.
    She treats me nice, her and Mr. Jefferies. Over the years they've never left me, when everyone else did. Only my mom, really. Gainey's still with me. So that's three. If it weren't for them, I don't think I'd be okay now.
    So no, I don't know what my IQ is. A hundred something, I guess. I'm not a moron, if that's what you mean. I know what's happening to me.
    When they electrocute you, they put this leather helmet on your head. On the top is this bronze knob. It connects to this copper screen inside with a sponge on it. That's the top electrode. They shave your head so it sits right on your skin. The other one's part of the chair; in most states, it's attached to the left leg, sometimes your spine. It's bronze too. They cut the back of your pant leg so it's right against your calf. The straps on the back and the arms they make such a big deal of on TV don't do anything except hold you down.
    It's simple. The electricity needs to go from the electrode in the cap to the electrode in the ankle. You're like the piece of wire in a light.
    The usual dose is 2000 volts. They do that twice, in some states four times. What's supposed to happen is the current goes through you and stops your heart. What you do is go still. All your muscles tense up at once. It doesn't always work like it's supposed to. Back around the turn of the century, one guy went so stiff he ripped the legs off the chair and they had to hold his feet down with concrete blocks. The second jolt made him kick those over. They were going to try a third time, but he'd already died from third-degree burns.
    In Florida seven years ago they did this guy named Jesse Tafero; when they threw the switch, flames a foot high shot out of his head. Sparks were flying everywhere. The whole place was filled with smoke. When the guards unstrapped him, his skin fell off his