You Are Here by Liz Fichera Read Free Book Online Page A

approached but then, just as quickly, I felt their eyes take stock of me.
    Marisela didn’t waste time with long introductions, presumably because the first bell was set to ring any minute. “Everybody? This is Abby. Abby, this is—” she pointed at each of the girls, clockwise “—Angela, Raquel and Karol with a K.”
    Like Marisela, all of the girls were hiply dressed—and not in a shiny-teen-magazine way but in very original ways. Angela was a blonde with gray leather pants and a white tank with more silver bracelets on her arms than Marisela, which I hadn’t thought possible. Raquel had tight shiny black curls dyed an orange-red. She wore faded jeans with holes in the knees and an oversize gauzy hippieish purple shirt that I instantly loved. Karol dressed how I used to dress at South High, in jeans and a matching jean jacket with white sneakers. The only thing missing from her outfit was a cowboy hat. Her straight brown hair was parted in the middle, very 1970s retro.
    “Hey,” Angela said, nodding at me. “Sela told us you’d be coming. We’ve been waiting.”
    “Oh?” I said, turning sideways toward Marisela.
    “Yeah, I saw everybody last night at Girlz First.” She lowered her voice, as if it was a secret. “It’s kind of a teen club through A New Start. We’re required to attend once a week. But that’s okay. The ladies who run it are cool and real nice. We have fun and it’s supposed to keep us out of trouble, which it does.” She smirked at the three girls. “Mostly,” she added, which elicited a giggle-snort from all the girls. “Two weeks ago we had a sleepover and saw a movie and did each other’s makeup. You’ll see. You’ll be invited now.”
    All three chirped their agreements and nodded.
    The tension in my shoulders lightened. I’d be invited. Suddenly I realized that I had more in common with these girls than I thought. “Cool.” I exhaled. I did remember the care manager mentioning something about a teen girls’ club and weekly communication classes for Mom when Mom, Jack and I met with her last week, but honestly, that was practically a lifetime ago.
    “I was going to tell you myself on Saturday in the courtyard but I didn’t want to lay too much on you at once.” She looked at my hair. “Besides, we had more important things to do.” She turned to her friends. “Awesome, yes?” She pointed her hand at me as if she were Vanna White on Wheel of Fortune and I were the hot prize. “You like?”
    “Like?” Raquel said, grinning. “Girl, I love . Which reminds me. My roots are showing. I need a touch-up.” She patted her head. “You need to do me next. Tomorrow, maybe?”
    Marisela nodded. As I watched them with their easy banter, I couldn’t help but wonder how these girls and their families wound up in transitional housing. How’d they wind up at A New Start? Attending Girlz First and picking out donated clothes? The only thing I knew about Marisela was that she’d moved to Phoenix from New Mexico during the middle of her sophomore year. She had a stepfather who’d made life hard on her mother. Mrs. Santiago was going to culinary school and worked in a kitchen at some resort in Scottsdale that required three bus transfers. That was all Marisela would share during the two hours she spent snipping and coloring my hair. She hadn’t asked me any more questions about our situation and I hadn’t offered any information.
    In the distance the bell rang and everybody around us sputtered a collective groan.
    “Time to make the doughnuts,” Marisela said in a deadpan voice. “Jeez, I’ll be glad to be done with high school.” The three girls laughed as they jumped off the hood, boots and sneakers slapping onto the pavement. Around us, the car stereos turned off, phones snapped shut and backpacks got threaded over shoulders. The faces had all changed but at least the sounds and sighs and groans were carbon copies of my old high school. I found comfort in that.
    I