“You’re staying inside the lines,” said Suzie when I told her I wasn’t going to Montreal this summer. It was the end of exams, and we were packing up our belongings to vacate our dorm room. She dropped the pink glitter tube top into her suitcase.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“He has you where he wants –”
“You think it’s easy to say no to him? I’m all he has.”
“He has Linda.”
“She isn’t flesh and blood to him.”
“Well, neither was your mother.”
I took a deep breath to ease the sting. Why did her comment bother me? I was the bloodline between my parents. Of course they weren’t related.
“You’re old enough to do what you want. But, hey, don’t listen to me. What do I know? I’m just a slut.”
“I never said that.”
“Oh, come on. I know what they say about me. Think I care? Life is here
