Prologue
Harlow
5 yearsago...
The swing squeaked, an old and rusted thing, as I pushed off with my feet. I hoped that it wouldn't collapse under my weight. That would just be another bad thing to happen to me on the worst day of my life. I sighed and pushed off again. The squeak was becoming monotonous, flitting off in the distance—an echo that drifted and drifted away. I didn't even hear it anymore. Nor did I hear the footsteps of my best friend as sheapproached.
"Hey," Erika said, taking the equally rusted swing next to me. I nodded her way but remained quiet. "What's wrong?" she asked. "You never come here. I thought it was too far towalk."
The park wasn't too far of a walk. Not if you really wanted to get away from something, which I really did right now. It was a little over a mile from my house. Technically, if my mom came outside and called for me, it was too far. Right now, though, I doubted she would come looking for me and, even if she did, I wondered if I would care. It was an interesting thought—not caring. I couldn't do it, but I fantasized about it. About draining all of my emotions—the negative ones most of all. It felt like my life was ending and that was selfish. I wasn’t the sick one. I was perfectly healthy. I knew if I tried to talk to anyone at school—the counselors or a teacher orsomeone—they'd say I was being overdramatic. Iwasbeing overdramatic, but I was fourteen. Didn't I have thatright?
"Harlow?" Erikaprompted.
I shook my head and looked at her. "My mom says I have to quit gymnastics," Isaid.
Her eyes widened. "What? Really? Why?" shedemanded.
I turned back to looking at the ground and pushed at it every so often with my feet to keep my swing in motion. "We don't have the money," I confessed, "and she says she's going to have to go to the doctor's moreoften."
Erika was quiet for a moment before she spoke again. "That really sucks, Harlow. I'm sosorry."
I didn't know why she was sorry. It wasn’t her fault that my mom was always sick. It wasn’t her fault we didn't have any money. Michael couldn’t exactly do anything from New York. But I guess people had to say something when they didn't know what else to say. My chest hurt. Gymnastics wasn't glamorous or anything—it was a lot of work—but it was my escape. It was the one thing I was really good at. Life wasn'tfair.
"So..." Erika said. "Whatnow?"
I shrugged. "I don't know," I replied. "Maybe I'll look for ajob."
"You're not old enough to get a job," she remindedme.
"I'll babysit or something," I said. "I can do that, and then maybe in a couple of years I can apply to that place on the other side of theinterstate."
Erika pursed her lips as if she wanted to argue, but eventually she just nodded and fell silent. We pushed ourselves back and forth on the swings for several moments before we were interrupted by a scratchy laugh and the shuffling of boots over dead grass. I was quickly reminded why I really never came to the park in the first place as Kyle Bloom came around one of the trees on the edges of the park and headed straight for us with his younger brother in tow. Jimmy Bloom moved along behind him awkwardly, but he was just as mean as his older brother. While Kyle had an anticipatory grin, Jimmy scowled. I had never actually seen him smile. I wondered, briefly, if he even knewhow.
"Well, if it isn't the Bimbo and the Harlot," Kylecalled.
To my side, Erika rolled her eyes. "Do you even know what that word means?" shescoffed.
"Oh, Bimbo," Kyle sneered. "If you looked it up in the dictionary, you'd see your face. So, of course, I know what itmeans."
"I meant the wordharlot, Kyle," she snapped. "I'm surprised you even know what a dictionary is much less...largerwords."
"Mom says harlots are girls who sleep around and get bad diseases," Jimmy pipedup.
I studiously ignored them, keeping my gaze trained on the ground. More than likely, their momhadtold them that. Mrs. Bloom was a regular churchgoer and I knew from brief bouts of my own mom's church-going status, that the term came straight from there. Maybe not originally, but I hadn't really cared much about looking up stuff like that, much less paying more than a cursory attention in Sunday school. I knew they had only chosen the insult because it was so close to my actual name. Harlow the Harlot, they called me. I didn'tcare.
Erika stood up as Jimmy and Kyle came closer. "We don't feel like dealing with you today," she snapped. "So, you may as well just turn your tails around and walk the other way,Kyle."
"Awww, is the Harlot feeling blue today," Jimmy taunted as they camecloser.
"You, too, Jimmy," Erikasneered.
"Too bad, Bimbo," Kyle laughed. I sighed as they circled us. I guessed it was time to leave. Putting my feet down hard, my shoes skidded against the mulch under the swing set. I stood up and motioned over toErika.
"Come on," I said. "Let's justgo."
Kyle stepped in front of me. "Where do you think you're going?" hedemanded.
I looked up at him. "I'm not in the mood, Kyle," I said blandly. "I'm leaving. The park's yours." I turned back to Erika. "Ready?" Iasked.