A POWERFUL PASSAGE ABOUT ADOLESCENCE!
Carla falls into my arms. Her pale face is scratched up and whiter than usual. Her dress is ripped at the bottom. When I hold her, she feels like a stranger.
Remembering how Daddy helped me the night I ran home from Frank’s house, I steer her to the kitchen, plunk her on a chair, and hand her a wet rag. She won’t stop crying.
“You going to tell me?” I say.
“Oh, oh, Emma. It was … was just awful …. He.. he…”
Carla blows her nose and looks at me like she remembers us being good friends. “He pinned me down. Said I wanted it. Said I’d been asking for it a long time. But I wasn’t, Emmy. I never asked for that! Never!”
She blows her nose again. Her tears are real, like when we were little girls and Stevie told her she looked like a…
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