Little Peach by Peggy Kern

boys. Not like me.
    Maybe it don’t count if you can’t remember.
    I fell asleep, I think. I don’t know. The fruit punch that Kat gave me, it made me all happy. Not sloppy drunklike Little John used to get outside Boo’s. I was laughing on the couch, all filled up and warm next to him, the music pouring into me and the smoke that looked like clouds floating in the room, beautiful clouds like this apartment has its own sky.
    But I don’t feel happy now. I don’t know what to feel except that something’s gone inside me. Like someone stole my insides and I’m empty.
    Devon keeps talking. “You’ll be with Kat tonight at the Litehouse. She’ll show you how it works. Just do what she says and you’ll be fine. Remember, it ain’t nothin’ you didn’t do last night.”
    My head is pounding, slamming in my skull, and I’m sweating hard and shivering, burning cold. My teeth chatter, knocking together like tiny running feet.
    I don’t know if I should be scared.
    I don’t know if I should be thankful.
    I have nowhere else to go.
    On the TV, the orange fish keeps getting lost. Baby laughs and takes big gulps from a bottle of Coke. Her soft belly spills out from the bottom of her shirt.
    Kat pulls and pulls, twisting and braiding and yanking my hair. Finally she stops, pulls a chair in front ofme, and looks me over.
    “You sweatin’ like a pig,” she says. I shake in my chair and look up at her. “You gonna be sick?”
    “Yeah,” I say. “I don’t know. I don’t feel right.”
    “Hang on a sec,” she whispers. Moments later she returns with a glass of fruit punch and a wet washcloth. I drink and she wipes my face, the cold cloth against my hot skin.
    “Close your eyes.”
    I flinch as something brushes my eyelids.
    “Open. Look up.”
    A brush on my eyelashes. I blink.
    “Hold your head still. Damn.” Kat wipes hard beneath my eyes. “Look up.”
    “You gonna throw up?” She glances at Devon, then looks at the floor. “C’mon, girl,” she whispers. “Almost done.”
    A brush on my cheeks, sticky goop on my lips. Kat steps back and smiles. “Come see,” she says, and takes my hand.
    I look into the mirror in the bathroom. Long, thin black braids fall across my shoulders. Light-blue eye shadow. Pink lipstick. Rose-colored blush on my cheeks.She’s a pretty girl. Almost beautiful.
    Is that me?
    Devon comes in and stands behind me, his hands on my shoulders.
    “Look at you,” he says, his eyes sparkling with pride. “My Little Peach.”
    I keep my head down and cross my arms.
    “You mad at me?”
    I shrug and look away. Am I?
    “I don’t know why. You should be thanking me.”
    “For what?” I say, pulling away from him.
    “For giving you a way to live, Peach. A way to take care of yourself. You not stupid, so I’m not gonna talk to you like you are. You’re a hood rat runaway. You’re broke. You’re what, fifteen?”
    “Fourteen,” I snap.
    Devon nods like he understands. “I don’t know what you runnin’ from, but it must’ve been pretty bad for you to get on that bus with half an address and a pillow. So here you are. And from now on, someone’s always gonna try to grab you. The cops wanna lock you up, or they’ll just send you back to wherever it is you came from. Or there’s always a group home, right? You’re tooold for a foster family. Not that you want one of those, either. Some old-ass man collectin’ that paycheck so he can sneak into your room at night. . . .”
    His words burrow into me. I flinch, Calvin’s face flashing in my aching head.
    “You know what’s out there,” he continues. “Waitin’ for you to come home. Waitin’ in the dark.”
    I turn and look him in the eye. “Shut up.”
    He looks right back. “No. Because you gotta understand. You safe here, girl. As safe as you ever gonna be. Look at Kat. Look at Baby. They’re happy, right? Healthy. Fed, clean, they got new clothes and a place to live. It don’t get much better. Not out here. Not