Problem Child (Jane Doe #2) - Victoria Helen Stone Page 0,84
myself. Why bother? So I suppose I could be way off. But we both know I’m not, don’t we?”
“What’s your point?”
“I came to find you because I heard you might be like me. I was curious. And now I’m even more curious. Would you like to come live with me in Minneapolis?”
That finally gets her attention. She lifts her mouth from her straw as her eyes squint into a glare. “Live with you? In fucking Siberia?”
“You live in a desolate prison camp now, so I don’t know why you’re turning your nose up at a change. Yeah, it’s cold during the winter, but it’s a hell of a lot nicer than your current surroundings.”
“I have a shitty, psychotic mother already. I don’t need another one, but thanks.”
“I don’t want to be your mother, shitty or otherwise. I have a cat, and that’s enough nurturing to last me decades. I’d be your mentor. Teach you how to navigate the world using your unusual skills.”
“Why?”
It’s my turn to shrug. “Because it sounds fun, actually. Right now my life is very stable. And sometimes when things are stable I act out. I hate being bored.”
“Yeah,” she responds.
“You’re rough right now. Unpolished. I want to show you a big picture and help you place yourself in it. You still haven’t told me if you’re smart.”
“Smart enough.”
“How did you do in school?”
The waiter brings our Caesar salads, and I dig in while Kayla shoots a glare out the window. She’s still avoiding the question, but I love garlic, so I eat happily. I guess she’s not a fan of veggies.
“In fourth grade they wanted to put me in a special class,” she finally says. “For dumb kids.”
“And? Did you go?”
“No. My test results were really high, so they couldn’t send me, and they didn’t know what to do with me.”
“I see.”
“But I hate school. I don’t want to go and I shouldn’t have to. It’s fucking stupid.”
“Of course you should have to go. Am I supposed to put up with gangs of wild, uneducated kids running in the streets at all hours of the day? Look, you’ve got two more years of school. You’ve had a rough patch until now, and your grades probably blow, but you can turn that around. A big comeback story works wonders. Two years of hard work, and then you can get a scholarship to college.”
“Bullshit. That money is for black kids and Indi—”
“Stop. Just stop. You haven’t believed anything these assholes have told you your whole life, but you believe that? All they’re doing is giving you an excuse for why they haven’t done shit with their lives. You’re a poor kid from an abusive home. Mom on drugs. Dad in prison. Colleges eat that crap up like chocolate. You bring up your grades and write a good essay about how you finally learned how to separate yourself from destructive family dynamics and thrive, and you’re automatically in.”
Chin down, she watches me through her lashes, ice in her eyes. I finish my drink and my salad and finally snag a piece of bread. When the meatballs arrive, I order another gin fizz and sit back.
“I could really go to college?” she asks.
“Yeah. Maybe not Harvard, but a state school? Definitely. Maybe even an expensive school somewhere else if you can get some scholarships. Hawaii? Florida? California?”
Her eyebrows rise in interest.
“But you have to work for it. Plan and scheme the same way you did with these men. This is a long game, Kayla. You get to college and you can have so much more fun than in high school. You just have to toe the line. Do the work, or at least pay someone to do it.”
“You can do that?”
“Sure. Learn how to work the system from the inside. That’s where the money is. That’s the power. You act like them. Get it?”
“I still don’t see what’s in it for you. Unless you really do want sex.”
“I really don’t want sex. Even aside from the fact that you’re my niece and a child—Jesus, I can’t believe I have to say that—I like penises, and my boyfriend has a great one. So no, I don’t want to collect you like some orphan sex doll. I’m not an asshole trafficker. I get great sex for free, thank you very much.”
“Okay. So . . . you’ve always wanted a baby or something?”
“No, I’ve never wanted a baby. Have you seen those things? But I think we could . . . Shit, I