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at her and fled to her bedroom, the little bitch. Alicia returned to the bathroom and combed out her tangled blonde hair. Scratch-marks striped her neck. She covered them with foundation. She tugged the comb through her hair. The blonde came from a box, but it suited her ice-blue eyes and fair complexion. She looked ordinary with brown hair. She applied makeup to her face, blue eye shadow, and a dark red lipstick that Joe said turned him on.
    In her bedroom she called Joe but got his answering machine. It was the end of the month; welfare cheques were cashed. He was probably still out hooking people up with smoke or coke or whatever else they needed. He made a lot of money dealing drugs but Alicia worried about him getting busted. She said she’d wait for him if he ever went inside, but in her heart of hearts she wasn’t so sure about that. Joe wasn’t always nice to her. Back in August, on her fifteenth birthday, he didn’t buy her a present; he said it slipped his mind and promised he’d make it up to her. He never did make it up to her, though she never reminded him, fearing his reaction. He could be pretty touchy.
    Downstairs her mother and Mattie sat on the chesterfield, smoking a joint, Mattie in her red coat having one for the road. Their mother, a pothead, said she’d rather see her girls smoking dope thandoing harder drugs or drinking. Their alcoholic father nearly killed her, so booze was as bad as crack in her eyes. Alicia didn’t like drugs, not even pot. It made her sleepy. She liked drinking. Joe liked drinking too, but he smoked pot from morning to night and liked doing lines now and then. He let her do coke with him once but it made her nostrils burn and her throat hurt and when he rubbed some on his penis and told her to suck it, she almost puked because with her throat numbed she took too much of him down. He had a big penis, with a purple head. It smelled sometimes. Whenever she sucked him off she thought she was going to puke. She didn’t like the taste of his cum, it was bitter. She had sucked off a few boys before and almost always refused to swallow. She didn’t see the point of it. One time she swallowed her ex-boyfriend Tony’s cum and it tasted lemony. Mattie yelled something at her about the sweater. Their toothless mother laughed; without her dentures her mouth looked like a black hole with smoke spewing out of it. Alicia peeled off the sweater and whipped it at Mattie. Then, wearing just her black bra, she put on her bomber jacket. Her mother laughed so hard she started coughing, hurling phlegm. Mattie kept yelling at her even as she went out the front door.
    Alicia walked to King Street, busy for a Tuesday evening. People had money to blow. Drunks thronged the taverns. Crackheads and potheads and junkies searched the streets and alleyways for dealers. Everyone was getting high or making money. It was cold out, the skies clear and flecked with stars; Alicia’s teeth chattered and her torso shook uncontrollably. She wanted to hop a bus out to Joe’s place. She didn’t have a key, and he’d probably get pissed off if she got there before him, but she didn’t care. When he saw what she had on underneath the jacket he wouldn’t care either. Joe always said she was the best pussy he’d ever had. Not that she was very experienced. He told her what to do and she tried her best. She even let him do anal, and though he used this lube from Europe it still hurt. But she never mentioned this to him. She wanted to make him happy. One time her doctor asked about the blood in her panties but she played it off. She changed doctors after that.
    As Alicia waited for the bus at the stop near the fire-station, three teens approached her, a girl and two guys. At first she didn’t recognize them. The guys had hoods pulled over their heads, their movements jerky. Then she recognized one. His name was Justin Royal and he had done time at the youth