Throwaway Girl Read Online Free PDF

over to an empty table and glances over at the rest of us briefly before pulling out a chair and slumping down into it. She doesn’t move for a half an hour.
    â€œWhat is her deal?” Lisa says, shaking her head. “Chill already.” She snickers.
    Does Lisa forget that we all come in here angry? None of us come in here happy. How could we? I don’t know what it is about her, but Trina is interesting to me. I wonder what has brought her here, what her story is. The other girls chat happily and get up to leave for school.
    â€œAre you coming?” Lisa asks me. I look over at Trina, who is sitting motionless. Her eyes remain fixed on a spot on the floor. I feel the urge to go and talk to her, to let her know it isn’t so bad here, but then I decide against it.
    â€œYeah, I’m coming,” I reply.
    I follow behind Lisa but turn briefly to Trina and say, “Hey.” To my surprise, she actually breaks her gaze and looks at me for a second before returning to whatever she is looking at. I make it to the end of the hallway and glance back one last time, but Trina has resumed her fixation on the spot on the floor. Her resistance to being here reminds me of myself. How every new placement, and every new place to sleep, felt wrong, how it had never really felt like home — except for one.
    Maybe the feeling of home is something none of us will ever truly feel. Maybe we’re destined to roam the world like vagabonds, never settling down in one place too long. Maybe we’ll never carve out a place of our own.

Chapter 6
    June 2003
    A fter the meeting with the social worker, the principal, and Mrs. Duggleman, I am taken to the principal’s office. I sit, shaking with fear. I have no idea what is going to happen to me. I have no idea where I am going and I don’t know what my mother will do to me when she finds out what I have done. I feel sick, sorry that I have told them anything.
    When the door to the principal’s office finally swings open, it’s Mrs. Duggleman. She says she can’t stay with me because she has to return to class, but she puts her arms around me again and kneels in front of me so that our eyes are level. “Bernice, honey,” she says softly, tears spilling down her cheeks. “You are going to be safe now,” she assures me. “No one will hurt you. I want you to know that you are very strong and very special.” She wipes her face with the back of her hand and then reaches for another tissue to blow her nose. “You be a brave girl, okay?”
    I nod and hug her tight, breathing in her comforting scent. She steps out of the office. I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love her. If Mrs. Duggleman says it’s going to be okay, then I believe her.
    Minutes later, Debby, the social worker, and two other ladies pack me into a van. I have no idea where we are going. Everyone seems to be talking around me or talking about me, but no one ever explains what is happening. After a visit to the hospital and what seems like endless visits from strangers examining me, taking pictures, and asking questions, I am finally put back into the van.
    We drive for what feels like hours. I am tired, hungry, and scared. I sit in the back seat, my fingers twisting the cuffs of my shirt nervously. My stomach wrenches from not knowing where we are going. The ladies in the front seat talk about the weather and the traffic as though I’m not even here. We turn onto a crescent with stately elms looming over the street. It is lush and beautiful. I study each home as we drive by. The street is lined with well-kept homes. There are flowers and sprinklers in the yards. Some people are mowing lawns, a sight I’ve only seen on television. I might as well be on a different planet. This is a picture-perfect neighbourhood, straight out of the pages of a book.
    The van comes to an abrupt stop in front of a simple, but pretty little house. A low wrought