the hair into the trash can. When I'm clean, I turn off the shower and dry my head—the towel's scratchy and coarse against the new skin.
Roger knocks on the door again. "Kyra. I have to get going to work. You're gonna miss the bus."
"I'm almost done!" I tell him. I look at myself in the mirror. ugh. This didn't work the way I wanted it to: I'm all ... mangy. I have patches of stubble and patches of longer hair, broken up by swaths of naked head. I look like one of those topographic globes, with hair representing altitude or something.
"You need to get going," he says.
"Jesus Christ! I'm almost ready!" Which is a total lie, but whatever.
I can almost hear the gears turning in his head on the other side of the door. On the one hand, he totally doesn't trust me to get ready and go to school on my own. On the other hand, he's thinking,
Haven't I lost enough time at work already because of her?
So the other hand beats the one hand and Roger leaves. Excellent.
I scrounge around in his bathroom for his shaving stuff. But Roger now uses an electric razor. Damn! Doesn't he know I could just get a knife or something from Simone or Jecca or someone else at school? What does he really think he's accomplishing here?
So I have to do a little better. I have to think this through.
First of all, I have to get rid of school, so I use my favorite trick: I log on to Roger's e-mail account and send an e-mail to the Spermling:
Roland,
I've decided to keep Kyra home today. We had something of a breakthrough last night and I'll be staying home from work as well to work through it with her. Thanks for your understanding, and I'm sorry again about the incident at school.
Roger
Classic. The Spermling has never even noticed that I set the e-mail to respond to
my
account, not Roger's. So I'm the one who gets the "Roger, no problem, thanks for letting me know, hope everything works out" bullshit that the Spermling always sends back.
So now I'm free for the day. Excellent.
I can do a lot in a day.
First, I need a car.
How I Steal Cars
I T'S ACTUALLY NOT AS TOUGH as you'd think. Most of the time, you can just rely on people's stupidity.
The first time I stole a car, it was a crime of opportunity. I was at the mall, waiting for my dad to pick me up, and I saw a car parked off all by its lonesome. I wandered by and saw that the keys were in the ignition. I figured that the owner must have locked his keys in the car, because who would be so effing stupid that they'd leave their car keys in the ignition and the door unlocked, right?
But for some reason I tried the door. And it opened right up.
And then it was like I couldn't help myself. I couldn't
stop
myself. I didn't even look around. I just slid into the driver's seat like I belonged there and started the car.
And for the first time ... For the first time in a long time, I felt great.
I felt
in control.
I drove that car all around the parking lot. I weaved in and out of spots, threading the other cars. Roger had been teaching me to drive with Mom's old car even though I was only fourteen at the time. He claimed he wanted to get me "ready early," but I knew the truth. He was trying to buy my love and my caring and my giving a shit by putting me behind the wheel. Tempting me with the promise of a learner's permit and eventually a license.
So I knew how to drive pretty well and I just hauled ass around that parking lot until it occurred to me that a mall cop might pull me over. I parked the car on the other side of the mall. I left the keys in the ignition, but I locked all the doors before I left.
Some people need to learn the hard way, you know?
The second car I stole was my mom's.
She was dead, but we still had the car and Roger promised me I could have it when I was old enough to drive. So I figured I wasn't really stealing it—I was borrowing it from my future self, which totally ought to be cool, in my book.
Roger was out somewhere, so I opened the garage door
Roger knocks on the door again. "Kyra. I have to get going to work. You're gonna miss the bus."
"I'm almost done!" I tell him. I look at myself in the mirror. ugh. This didn't work the way I wanted it to: I'm all ... mangy. I have patches of stubble and patches of longer hair, broken up by swaths of naked head. I look like one of those topographic globes, with hair representing altitude or something.
"You need to get going," he says.
"Jesus Christ! I'm almost ready!" Which is a total lie, but whatever.
I can almost hear the gears turning in his head on the other side of the door. On the one hand, he totally doesn't trust me to get ready and go to school on my own. On the other hand, he's thinking,
Haven't I lost enough time at work already because of her?
So the other hand beats the one hand and Roger leaves. Excellent.
I scrounge around in his bathroom for his shaving stuff. But Roger now uses an electric razor. Damn! Doesn't he know I could just get a knife or something from Simone or Jecca or someone else at school? What does he really think he's accomplishing here?
So I have to do a little better. I have to think this through.
First of all, I have to get rid of school, so I use my favorite trick: I log on to Roger's e-mail account and send an e-mail to the Spermling:
Roland,
I've decided to keep Kyra home today. We had something of a breakthrough last night and I'll be staying home from work as well to work through it with her. Thanks for your understanding, and I'm sorry again about the incident at school.
Roger
Classic. The Spermling has never even noticed that I set the e-mail to respond to
my
account, not Roger's. So I'm the one who gets the "Roger, no problem, thanks for letting me know, hope everything works out" bullshit that the Spermling always sends back.
So now I'm free for the day. Excellent.
I can do a lot in a day.
First, I need a car.
How I Steal Cars
I T'S ACTUALLY NOT AS TOUGH as you'd think. Most of the time, you can just rely on people's stupidity.
The first time I stole a car, it was a crime of opportunity. I was at the mall, waiting for my dad to pick me up, and I saw a car parked off all by its lonesome. I wandered by and saw that the keys were in the ignition. I figured that the owner must have locked his keys in the car, because who would be so effing stupid that they'd leave their car keys in the ignition and the door unlocked, right?
But for some reason I tried the door. And it opened right up.
And then it was like I couldn't help myself. I couldn't
stop
myself. I didn't even look around. I just slid into the driver's seat like I belonged there and started the car.
And for the first time ... For the first time in a long time, I felt great.
I felt
in control.
I drove that car all around the parking lot. I weaved in and out of spots, threading the other cars. Roger had been teaching me to drive with Mom's old car even though I was only fourteen at the time. He claimed he wanted to get me "ready early," but I knew the truth. He was trying to buy my love and my caring and my giving a shit by putting me behind the wheel. Tempting me with the promise of a learner's permit and eventually a license.
So I knew how to drive pretty well and I just hauled ass around that parking lot until it occurred to me that a mall cop might pull me over. I parked the car on the other side of the mall. I left the keys in the ignition, but I locked all the doors before I left.
Some people need to learn the hard way, you know?
The second car I stole was my mom's.
She was dead, but we still had the car and Roger promised me I could have it when I was old enough to drive. So I figured I wasn't really stealing it—I was borrowing it from my future self, which totally ought to be cool, in my book.
Roger was out somewhere, so I opened the garage door
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