Chapter seven, Freedom Present. Hannah has been on her ass all morning. The kids are running around like hooligans, screaming and fighting. Outside her window, Freedom sees Lydia in A two attempting to turn on the hose that snakes through the brush and cacti at the side of the house in order to cool off from the heat. Lydia is wearing a T shirt and bathing suit bottoms, and A two is naked. The high pitched screams each emit is enough
to drive her insane. Pair that with Hannah's constant nagging, and Freedom feels downright suicidal. It is Sunday morning, not quite ten am, and already the trailer is a circus. She barges into the living room and finds Harry on the couch rolling a joint. I will pay you for a hit of that. Harry shakes his head no and makes a clucking sound with his tongue. No way, Jose, this is my weed. Go get your own, Harry. Come on, these kids are driving me crazy. Sorry,
no can do. I got to head out to the reservation in a few minutes. Helping Johnny move. Johnny is a friend of the family who recently went through a divorce. Freedom guesses this is the day Johnny is finally getting kicked out of his house. Whatever. Down the hallway, Freedom can hear the faint ping of her cell phone. She has a text. Who's that? Harry asked, distractedly, none of your business. Freedom dashes off down the hall to retrieve her phone. Maybe it's the weed fairy with a delivery
for you, Harry yells. After her retreating back, Freedom slams her bedroom door shut and flings herself down onto her unmade bed, digging through the sheet and thin blanket for the cell phone that is buried underneath. She finally finds it and swipes her hand across the cracked screen. It is a text from her friend Niewa from the reservation. It reads rummage sale at the Hualapai Baptist Church You in? She types back hell yes. Freedom tosses the phone back
and forth between her hands as she impatiently waits for her reply. It comes through one minute later. Dude kidding, She writes back, I'm not. I'll pick you up. I gotta get out of here. Two minutes later, dude sounds dire. Come scoop me. I have a special treat for you. Freedom types back with one thumb as she balances the phone in her hand and grabs her car keys with the other. Tell me it's something I can smoke, Niewa writes back better. As she is heading for the side
door. Harry looks up from the couch again, where do you think you're going to? Niewas not with the truck? You're not? I need it? What four? Freedom is exasperated to move, Johnny, we need a truck. You think I'm going to carry all of his stuff on foot to his new place? Fuck? Freedom runs her hands through her hair. Have Niwah come get you. Harry is gingerly taking the keys out of her hands, as if he is afraid Freedom will strike at him like a snake.
I will tell Johnny maybe he shouldn't have cheated on his wife like all the time, and maybe he wouldn't have to move. I'll be sure to tell him that. Harry plasters on a smile and puts up a hand to wave to Freedom. As she leaves, Freedom texts Niwa to come get her instead, and within twenty minutes she arrives. As she pulls up in her black beat up nineteen ninety seven, Jetta, Niwah pulls up her red T shirt and flashes Freedom. She has no bra on underneath. This is Niwah's signature
move her calling card of sorts. Niwah, meaning fourth in Native American, is the fourth child born to old school and literally old Native American parents. She has two brothers and one sister, who were all born at least a decade before Niwah. Niwah was a surprise and her mom was forty seven years old when she had her. Her dad was fifty five. Because of the age of her parents and the fact that her mom and dad thought that they
were done having children, Niewah raised herself with virtually no discipline. She is a wild child who has no regard whatsoever for anyone else. This is why she and Freedom are friends. Niwah is one year younger than Freedom. Lives with her mom and dad on the reservation and work sixty miles away at the Aquarius Casino resort in Laughlin, Nevada, dealing cards. Aquarius is the closest
casino to the reservation, seeing as the Hualapies don't have their own. Niwa works there in order to meet single white men or non single white men doesn't matter their relationships status. If they're white and of the male gender, Niwa will try to sleep with them. Most of the time she succeeds. It's like a Pocahonas thing. You know, all men have the Pocahonas fantasy. She would often explain to Freedom. They like to fuck Indian chicks with braids
in their hair and a feather headband. The chick with war paint on her face who doesn't speak English makes them feel like John Smith conquering shit. Freedom believed her it was either that or her big boobs. She slept with a lot of men, and right now those boobs are staring Freedom in the face. She jumps in the passenger seat, puts her feet up on the dashboard, and closes her eyes. Niewah interrupts her immediately. Hello, bitch, aren't you going to say anything? Hi, that's it, Thanks for the
ride. Freedom opens one eye and quickly glances over in Niewa's direction before closing it again. She is still holding up her top. No about my tits, I've seen them a zillion times, knee, but look, Vanilla, there's something different. Freedom opens both eyes and glances in the direction of the driver's seat, she sees Niewa smiling broadly from ear to ear and eight inches down glittering on her right nipple is a hoop with diamonds in it. Nipple
ring, Freedom exclaims with disgust mixed with appreciation. Do you love it? Niewa adjusts the rear view mirror in order for her to take in the view herself. You have to love it. It's different, it's everything. You're just jealous. I am, yeah, what was the surprise you said you had? Niewa pounce and finally pulls down her T shirt with a sigh. Guess you're all business today. Well you're going to love it. She turns around in the seat, throwing her body to reach for a black backpack that
is sitting on the back seat. After rummaging around in the front pocket for a few seconds, she triumphantly holds up a small plastic baggie with six small round discs in it. Shut up, Freedom says, they are payote uttons. Where did you get these? My brother again knee while winks at her. I don't know how he gets them, but I don't ask. I just pay him and he gets me some. He's cool, great, Freedom swings her feet off the dash and rolls down the window. It's so hot.
Maybe when I trip, I can be somewhere where there's snow or at least air conditioning. What are we going to do after we take these? We're going to the church rummage sale. Dude, I told you I thought you were kidding. How no tripping in a church? Are you kidding me? It's awesome? Okay, fine with me, Freedom yells out to Lydia and A two, who are still playing in the yard. Hey. The two kids run over to the car, Freedom continues, Can you guys go
get me a knee a bottle of water from the house. Please? Jumps up and down and shouts yes, while Lydia crosses her arms over her chest. What are you going to give me for it? Lydia smirks, Niewa answers up, beating you little shit? Now go? The kids run off? Who have such a way with kids? Freedom says, I know. The kids return, and Freedom hands them each two quarters that she finds a Niwa's cupholder. Lydia and A two should be able to buy themselves each an
ice cream from the ice cream truck. With that, Niwa plomps the six tabs into the bottle of water and swishes it around for a few seconds. While they wait for the disk to dissolve. They chat. You don't get to work today, do you? Niwa inquires a Freedom, finally opening the lid of the bottle and chugging half the liquid. She hands the rest to Freedom. Nope, Freedom replies, chugging the rest of the water, not
until tomorrow. The drive to the church is a quick one, only a few miles, so Freedom and Niwah sit in the car waiting for the drug to take effect. Thirty minutes later, Freedom starts to feel the effects and looks over to Niwah, who nods her head. I'm there, Niwah says, raising her hands and touching the roof of the car. Let's go inside. Freedom follows her up the walkway to the church. As they near the heavy wooden door, she notices the knocker on the door has turned into a
large green frog that tries to lunge out and bite Nihah's face. As she reaches out her hand to tug on the doorknob, watch out, Freedom knocks into Niwah, pushing her to the side and clymbing at the air, tries to bat down the non existent frog. The frog Niwah just laughs and, as if in a trance, breezes past Freedom to open the door and step inside the church. They enter through the front doors, each girl wandering aimlessly as they feel the pews, the stone floor, anything they can put their
hands on. Niwah heads off to the front of the church and Freedom stays behind, wondering why there are rainbows clouding her vision. She swipes at them, trying to feel them tangible in her hands. She hears music playing from somewhere beyond the back wall. It is organ music, so she looks towards the instrument, wondering who is playing the pretty solo. She sees that the organ bench is empty. She walks up the center aisle, catching sight of
Niwha's sitting in the front pew. She joins her, resting her behind precariously on the edge of the seat. Niewah's eyes are closed and her head is thrown back. Freedom pats her on the head, telling her to sleep. All of a sudden, Niwa's eyes are open and she is laughing again. Freedom suddenly gets dizzy and stumbles to her feet. Let's go, She says, pulling at her friend's arm. Rumor sale. Rumor sale right. Niwa agrees with her, obediently following her through a side door with a yellow sign
taped to it with an arrow and the words rummage sale. The Hualipied church puts on its rummage sale twice a year. It is a yard sale of sorts, a chance for the tribe to make a few dollars by selling old clothes, toys, games, and equipment to anyone who comes along. Mostly, it is just other Hualipies themselves who buy the used merchandise. It functions
as more of an exchange of goods than anything else. The room is busy, with mostly mothers and their babies picking through the less than desirable items. Freedom sees one of the tribe leaders, a man named boat Away, manning one of the change stations where the money is kept. Freedom is too high to talk to anyone, so when boat Away waves hello, she just pushes past him. Niewa has stopped to talk to him. Freedom wonders how that is going to go. She walks among the tables, almost falling into a
woman carrying a baby in a papoose on her front. The baby smiles and laughs as Freedom goes by. The woman seems less amuse. Freedom pays them no attention. She is focused on the toy table in the far corner. Among the other stuffed animals and used barbie dolls, sits a teddy bear, or what she thinks must be a teddy bear. The images swim before her eyes, and she makes her way over to take a closer look. When she reaches the table, she hurriedly clears away all of the toys around the
bear. It is beckoning to her Strangely, A Huallapie boy crouches behind the table, popping up to inspect the bear more closely. He turns it around toward him and starts to pull a string on its back. Freedom holds her breath, wondering what is going to happen next. The boy and Freedom watch in amazement as suddenly the bear begins to move, shaking and trembling. When a garbled noise emits from the teddy bear, Freedom lunges toward it, scaring
the boy and he begins to cry. The noises melt together into a terrible song, crashing and blending the boy's cries, the bear's guttural garbled noises. Freedom thinks she hears the bear saying, I really enjoy talking to people, and she puts her hands over her ears. It is too much for her. The screams all around her, the crazy bear starting to shake. It
trembles and talks, but its eyes are the most irving. They blink slowly, navy blue, staring at her through her Suddenly, lightning bolts rip from its eyes, and it seems to Freedom that one of the bolts hits the boy on the forehead. Flames begin to sizzle and shoot out of his head. He runs away, leaving a trail of blue flames behind him. The noises get louder. Freedom backs away, slowly, searching for Niewhile as she begins to panic, the bear is taunting her, holding its hands out toward
her as it shakes and blinks. Its face is the devil. It is coming for her. Her head begins to turn slowly, and exorcism of sorts memories flash before Freedom's eyes, memories she can't comprehend. Flashes of people and things, arms reaching out and finding nothing. Freedom's breath catches in her throat
and her hands go up to her neck as she claws at herself. Ying to push the memories away, she bumps into a table and all but ducks in fear, the bears gaining on her, flying through the air wildly, somersaulting it hovers in mid air, puts its stuffed bear paws on either side of her head, tilts its own and repeats over and over in a sing song voice, Hi there, Hello there, Tell me a joke? Please? Can we be friends? Tell me? Can we be friends? Freedom
screams, and then the world goes dark. Chapter eight Martin past Martin had been good friends with Ricardo Hernandez, Senator from the great State of California, for a few years. Both men were members of Congressional Country Club, and Ricardo had sought him out one day on the gall of course, he and two other senators had needed a fourth and Martin had agreed. Ricardo beat him
at golf, and Martin was impressed. He was used to winning, but choked that one off to the fact that Ricardo was from southern California and there those bastards could play golf all year round. As Ricardo outdrove and outputted him and pretty much all around outplayed him, he talked to Martin about his hedge fund. The senator had heard of Martin's successes and wanted in. That was
back when the fund was doing well. Ricardo took to calling him Marty, which Martin couldn't stand, but he figured he could make an exception for a rich senator who could hook him up with more contacts. More contacts meant more money, and Ricardo was a powerful man around town. Born in San Isidro to poor Mexican immigrants, Ricardo Hernandez had worked his way up to the top. A smart man and hard working, he had made a lot of money
in real estate in Florida before entering the political circle. He won the congressional Republican primary in his state, easily gaining the support of most of the Mexicans there. From there it was on to the Senate, where he had held the exalted seat for the last ten years. Ricardo needed someone with whom to entrust his millions from his real estate deals all those years ago. He had a broker, but was in need of a switch, or so he told
Martin as they sipped beers in the clubhouse after their round. It was then that their friendship was born. Martin gladly took Ricardo's millions and invested them in the hedge fund. All was well for a while until everything started to go downhill, and when it did, Martin was forced to actively avoid the Senator
at all costs. They used to play golf once a week, but ever since the ship had hit the fan and Martin had lost all of his and everyone else's money, he had been making up excuses every Wednesday for months. His wife kept asking him why they were avoiding Congressional They used to go there at least twice a week for dinner or to dip in the pool, but Martin had expressly forbid her from setting foot there for the past two months. He didn't like doing it, it was a necessity for the time being,
just until he got back on his feet. One Wednesday, when Martin was sitting at his desk trying to come up with yet another excuse to get out of golfing with the Senator, he called his work line Ricardo. Martin feigned enthusiasm to what do I owe this pleasure of you calling me at work? Marty, He barked into the phone. Glad I caught you before you give me yet another bullshit excuse about why you can't come golf with me to day. I need you to promise to meet me at one o'clock at the grill
room. I'm taking you to lunch. Ricardo, I wish I could, but you see, Martin was cut off by the senator's next words, I must insist I have a business proposition for you. Martin was about to try to bow out again, but stopped himself. He was intrigued by the senator's words, and he had to admit it sounded promising. Ricardo Hernandez was a connected man and could be able to help him out of this slump. Martin
decided to go. He could face the club members again, no matter that a lot of them had invested millions of dollars with him, and for the time being, Martin had lost those millions. It was a temporary problem, Martin assured himself, and he also didn't like feeling like so much of a pussy. He would walk into the grill room with his head held high and shake hands with everyone and look them in the eye. After all, they were still his friends. They had no idea that Martin had run into some
money troubles and that his business was going through a rough patch. It was none of their business. Anyway. Martin talked himself up during the twenty minute drive to the club, and when he arrived for lunch, he felt pumped up and ready to face the world by the time he reached the door to the grill room, though, that feeling promptly dissipated. The minute he caught sight of Ed Jenkins at a table with two other men. He felt the
panic begin to rise in his throat. Ed was also one of his investors, and Martin wanted to avoid him like the plague, so he walked all the way around the room to join Ricardo at his table, who was seated in the back, simply in order to avoid Ed. So much for the pep talk he had given himself two minutes ago. As he approached Ricardo's table, Ricardo stood up from his seat to greet him and stuck out his hand. They shook, and both men sat down at the table. Senator,
nice to see you. You was well, Martin. It's been a long time. Ricardo's accent was lilting and pronounced, you have been avoiding me. No, I haven't. Martin tried to interject, but Ricardo waved his hand dismissively. Martin noticed that for the first time, Ricardo had used his full name instead of calling him Marty. Martin thought that could not be a good sign you have, my friend. It is of little importance to me, though I would do the same if I were a man in your position.
Martin balked what position he felt, his body beginning to get uncomfortably hot. The position of losing much investor money in your fund. Ricardo winked at him and signaled to the waiter nonchalantly, as if he didn't have a care in the world. Martin was floored. How did the senator know about his losses? As if reading his mind, Ricardo continued as the waiter made his way towards their table. You are now wondering how I know these things, Martin.
I have been in this town for a long time, and I am a very good read of people. I have people around who help me to find out things that I need to know. Ricardo paused as he turned to the waiter and ordered two grouper sandwiches and two beers, one for himself and one for Martin, without even asking his friend what he might like. Ricardo was a very take charge individual, as the waiter walked away, Ricardo continued, I must tell you, Martin, I am not pleased that your business
is not doing well and that you seem to have lost my money. But this is not what I am least pleased about. I am least pleased about the fact that you would not come to me as a man and look me in the eye and tell me. Martin was taken aback. He didn't know what to say. I will say though, that despite all of these things, I still would like to put my trust in you. I need a man for a job, and I think you are the man to do it. What do you say, what's the job? Martin asked. It involves
some cleaning of money. Martin was less shocked by the fact that the senator was asking him to launder money, and more shocked by the fact that he was asking him to do so out in the open at the gruel room at Congressional Country Club. He wasn't even keeping his voice down. The balls on this guy, Martin thought, you had to hand it to him. Ricardo continued, I have some contacts in Mexico. These are good men, my
countrymen that need some help with their business as well. I am not at liberty to say at this time what the business is, but just know it is very lucrative, and if you help me and them, it could be very lucrative for you as well. Martin. I am sure you will be wanting to help me in any way you can, considering it seems as if you may owe me some money after losing much of it. Is this correct, Martin? Ricardo winked again as the waiter delivered two plates of group or
sandwiches with fries to the table. Martin bowed his head and waited until the waiter left to look at Ricardo. Martin felt Ricardo's pen a trading stare and clearly understood the veiled threat In his words, Martin realized he could kill two birds with one stone, work for Ricardo to pay his debt to the man, and at the same time make back the money he owed his other investors. Martin didn't know what kind of business Ricardo's friends ran, but he didn't
assume it was good or legal. That was fine. What he didn't know couldn't hurt him. He was more than happy to be kept in the dark and operate under the ignorance is bliss mantra seemed as if the Senator wasn't as squeaky clean as his image may have conveyed. This impressed Martin in a perverted way. It made him like the man more. As he ate and Ricardo droned on Martin half listening, came up with a plan for the money.
He could first pull what they called a pump and dumb scheme. Martin would take the money and invest it in a shitty penny stock, one that was practically worthless, in a little known company. That stock would be cheap and would cost him next to nothing. He would then talk up the stock, thereby inflating the price of it through his misleading and false statements. Once everyone got wind of how great it was, everyone would follow suit and invest more
money in the company. At the peak point, Martin would then sell his shares, making back his money, and then some the stock would fall, leaving the rest of the investors with shares worth very little. Then he could set about laundering the money. Ricardo finished his sandwich, wiping his mouth and leveling his gaze on Martin. So, Martin, my friend, do we have a deal. We have a deal? Martin stuck his hand out to
shake his friends for the second time that day. Ricardo stood up from the table, apologizing to Martin for his hasty exit, explaining that he was late for his tea time with the senators with whom Martin used to play. He assumed Ricardo had found a fourth man, as Martin was not invited. As he watched him walk away, he felt a sense of hope begin to bloom inside of him. He could finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. He was startled to look over and find Ed Jenkins was standing next
to his table. He stuck his hand out to Martin and Martin shook it, no longer afraid to talk to him. Martin, how you've been haven't seen you around for a while. Yeah, I've been busy. How are things, Ed continued, how's the fun doing? I assume you haven't lost all of my money yet? Ed laughed. Things are looking up, Ed Martin smiled. Things are looking very, very good, And for the first time in a long time, Martin meant the words he said. Chapter nine,
Jessica Present. Jessica doesn't love law school. She loves fighting and being powerful and intimidating people, so law school is merely a means to an end in her quest to become a lawyer. After graduating from college at Barnard, where she reveled in the fact that there were no men to rival herself appointed power or her intimidation strategies, she moved into a sublet thirty blocks south and twelve blocks east of campus in Manhattan and took the New York State Bar in
July of that very same year. This was in complete rebellion against her college counselor's wishes. The counselor had counseled Jessica that no one takes the bar as just an undergrad one needs to go to law school first, But Jessica paid her no mind. She had read enough law books recreationally over the past four years, and she was smart enough. Or so she thought. She was ready to start her career as a prosecutor for the great State of New York,
and she didn't need law school to do so. She was confident she could pass. She failed. Miserably Discouraged, she set about applying to law schools within the area. Jessica focused on the law schools that were not only accredited, but renowned and known for their academics and for churning out great lawyers. She finished her applications to Columbia, NYU, and Fordham with a flourish
sure she would be admitted to one of those top tier law schools. On a whim and for a laugh, she applied to Pace Law School in White Plains, New York in order to appease that idiot counselor who suggested she also applied to a safety school because you never knew, Jessica only got in to Pace. Disappointed and bitter, Jessica would tell her tale of woe concerning her
unfair law school admission status to anyone who would listen. This included her mother, whom she would call once a week, and from time to time the random stranger who was unlucky enough to sit next to her on the thirty five minute Metro North train ride from Grand Central station to the White Plain stop four days a week. Lamenting her fate, Jessica would turn to strangers for sympathy
because she didn't really have any friends. She rarely received it. As Jessica sits in her classes towards contracts, procedure, constitutional law, corporations, and legislation, she dreams of the day she can here before the judge and jury and put criminals like her own father away for life. Everyone will listen to her, everyone will respect her, and everyone will praise her for bringing justice to the scum of the earth. It is one of the only thoughts that
gets her through her days at this ship for brains. Law school today is towards class and as the professor drones on and on about examples of civil legal liability, Jessica looks down at her phone and notices the screen light up. It is her mother calling. Jessica realizes she forgot to call her yesterday. She had been at the criminal law firm where she works two afternoons a week. Goldberg an Associates law firm had hired her on after she offered to work
for them for free. She tried like hell to get a paying job at a real law firm, but no firm she contacted was hiring first year law students. The second and third years had snapped them all up. So the minute Jessica hinted at the fact she would be willing to work without pay, Goldberg and Associates was more than happy to welcome her aboard. One of the good things about GNA or possibly The only good thing is that it has offices in Manhattan, albeit in the Bronx and in White Plains, so Jessica is
able to bounce back and forth between the two. Jeff Goldberg, who owns the firm, interviewed her for the job and asked her why she would want to work, especially for free, for a criminal defense law shop when she wanted to be a prosecutor. Jessica had told him that her father had always taught her that one must force oneself to consider arguments on the other side. Only then, when one can argue better against oneself than others can, has
one done the work to hold an opinion. True understanding of one's work resides in the understanding of the other side. Jessica didn't really believe this. She thought it was total bullshit, but Jeff seemed to like it. He told Jessica she was something else. He then asked if she was a lesbian. While she found this inappropriate and most likely illegal for a would be employer to ask of his would be employee, Jessica was not phased by the question.
She got it all the time. She didn't look like a lesbian. It was just the fact that she graduated from an all girls school. It was probably also attributed to the fact that Jessica just oozed male gender hatred and had a permanent resting bitch face. She figured this was par for the course though for female attorneys. Jessica told Jeff that no, she wasn't a lesbian.
She simply wasn't interested in either sex romantically, and that it was more of a complete hatred of men in general that she held on a day to day basis. Jessica hated all other women too, but she felt that was better left unsaid at the time. Jeff Gafad told her that was great because most of our clients are men, and told her to come in to start work the next afternoon at two pm. Hence GNA was where she was as part
of her normal Thursday afternoon routine. When her mother had called yesterday, Jessica had ignored the call, and now she is calling again. Jessica again ignores the call, swiping her forefinger over the little red phone emoji and then to the left. She has just gone back to listening to the professor when the phone buzzes again, this time with a text from her mother, call me, It implores of Jessica. She is getting dirty looks from the students around
her, so Jessica sighs, closes her computer and grabs her backpack. She stuffs the laptop inside as she bangs through the doors into the hallway. Sitting down on the hard wooden bench outside the classroom, she clicks again on the phone, this time on the green phone emoji. After half a ring, her mother picks up Jessica. She says into the phone, a note of panic in her voice. Christ mom, Who else would it be? Jessica is annoyed. Her mother is the reason she is missing class. Jessica,
there is a problem. What's wrong? There is a pause on the other end of the line, and Jessica grows impatient. She's about to tell her mother to hurry up spit it out, but before she can, her mother speaks, with a tremor in her voice. Your father is missing. Jessica is infuriated. Not this again, she thinks, you mean Martin, Mom, you got me out of torts for this. No, he's not. What's a tort? Never mind. Jessica is about to end the conversation and
is heading towards the door to the classroom. This happens all the time. When are you going to realize that this is how he is. He's not missing, He's gone away on purpose. This time is different. It's never different, mom, You know that. Come on, Martin Walker does what he wants and always has. Jessica, I am telling you this time is different. The tremor in her mother's voice has increased to the point where Jessica thinks her mother is going to start crying. This is not ideal, as
Jessica gets extremely uncomfortable when people cry around her. How So, Ica snaps at her mother, hoisting her backpack over her right shoulder and resting her hand on the bar on the door to the classroom. She is ready to make her entrance back into torts the minute she can convince her mother she is imagining things. He didn't show up for golf yesterday afternoon. Her mother's voice finally breaks, and Jessica can hear her suppressing a sob. This gives Jessica pause.
Her hand drops from the bar as she realizes she probably won't be going back to class anytime soon. Her mother will be inconsolable now, and it will be Jessica's job to bring things back to normal. This is usually done by Jessica flying down to Defuniac Springs to put the pieces of her hysterical mother back together. Okay, remember mom, how he took off for a few
days a while back. He showed back up. Her mother sounds like she is trying to compose herself, but remains silent save for her snifflings on the other end of the phone. Well, what do you want me to do about this? Jessica is now sitting back down on the bench outside of the classroom, praying and hoping her mother doesn't ask her to come to Florida. Don't say come to Florida. Don't say come to Florida. She mouths silent lee to herself, crossing her free set of fingers. Can you come to
Florida? Can you come home? Her mother sniffles again. Jessica balls her fingers up into a fist and slams it down on the hard bench. She hates when her mother calls Defuniac Springs her home. That god forsaken place hasn't been her home for years. New York is her home now. She would rather not be associated with the dafuniac trash anymore. Mom, I don't know. I've got work and school trails office. She realizes how whiny she sounds, and Dafuniac Springs is not home. You know that, I hate when
you say that. Her mother ignores Jessica's last statement. But it's Friday. I'll pay for your plane ticket. You can come down tonight and go back on Monday Sunday, Jessica counters, slapping her forehead with her palm. Okay Sunday. Her mother agrees, I'll buy your plane ticket now. Jessica is already jogging toward the building exit. Just give me a couple hours, Okay. I gotta get home and pack and hop on the end to get to
LaGuardia. I'll see you soon, sweetie. Jessica presses end on the call without replying.