A Girl with No Name: Strength in Innocence

By Joe Lovato

This story follows a girl from kindergarten to college. Nurturing seeds planted in the early days of memory help her through the hardships to come. The human condition is universal, and how we react to the trials of life are what makes us different. Fear, pain, and love all combine to produce the person we become. Like most of us, she was plagued by the bad and blessed by the good. Her life was marked by the limits of both. Innocence is the hallmark of the young and the anchor of a life well lived.

Although they are all fictional, characters tend to take on their own lives and you follow them wherever they go. Locations were fairly accurate. The dogs were real and happy to contribute. Writing mirrors the real world and melds with imagination to try to create someone with whom we can empathize. In the end, the muse had her way.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 23, 2019
• ISBN: 9781796033892

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Each life is the product of every moment that came before. Spurts and splashes of memory leave their mark on the person we are today. Do the things that don’t kill you really make you stronger, or do they just leave a hole? I learned to write when I was very young, and now I’m trying to couple memory with the written word. Not that it makes a big difference, but I guess you try to empathize with who you were to understand who you are. It was rewritten when I reached the age of reason, tenuous though it is. Sometimes I modified the facts to embellish the truth and sometimes to hide it. That doesn’t sound fair, but history is at the mercy of historians, and the truth is a state of mind. I keep thinking of that old Western movie where Kevin Costner keeps this terrific journal and then these two slime buckets use it for toilet paper.

ONE

Baby Steps

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My puppy is gone. Mom says that he missed his mama too much, and he wanted to go back. I miss him so much. He was the only thing that I could really hug. He’d lick my face and Mom would yell not to let him, but it tickled and made me laugh. Mom says I have to stop crying and be a big girl. She says I’ll feel better tomorrow, but I don’t think so. I know I wouldn’t want to come back here.

Did you know I know how to read? I have eight books. Two of them don’t have pictures. On the last day of school, Mrs. Carter gave me two books. One of them was about a dog, and the other was a dictionary. She said the book about the dog was very hard, but I could use the dictionary to learn the words. She said, You can rule the world with a dictionary. I don’t think I want to rule the world.

My grandpa gave me a diary. I’m going to write in it every day. Someday when I’m smarter, I’ll look at what I have written and fix my mistakes. I’m going to write everything in pencil so I can just erase it. Pretty cool, huh? That’s my grandpa’s word. It doesn’t make sense, but he uses it whenever something is good. I guess if I understand what cool means when I write this over again, I’ll have to leave that part out because then I’ll understand it. I don’t know. I don’t know a lot of things. I never get to see my grandpa because he lives far away. Writing is much harder than reading because you have to think.

I want to be smart. I want to be smarter than Felix next door. All he does is pick his nose and play with a ball. He smells like dirt, but the one cool thing is that he has an imaginary friend. He talks to him all the time, and he even offered him a booger once. I would like to have one—an imaginary friend, not a booger. I tried talking to myself, but it didn’t work. It doesn’t matter because we’re moving. I hope we move closer to my grandpa. The movers are coming tomorrow. I’m supposed to stay out of the way and read. I don’t want to go. I asked her why we had to move, and she said, The bad guys won and we have to learn to adapt. I don’t know what she means.

I don’t remember my dad much, but I think that’s why we really have to move. They were divorced when I was little, not that I’m all that big now, but littler. He went to live in California, and she got to keep the house. Whoever gets the money has to take the kid. Sounds fair, I guess. The deal was that he had to send money every month, which was working out okay until he got killed in a boating accident. Then the money started going away. I don’t know how I know this, but I do. I should miss him more than I do, but I don’t remember that much. So here I am sitting on the steps watching Felix pick his nose and wishing that I could stay.

The movers were big and smelly. They made noises when they picked things up, and sometimes they said words I think were bad. That’s okay.

I think I have a rabbit nose because everything smells. Mom’s old boyfriend used this stuff that was supposed to smell good but smelled awful. He used to bounce me on his lap. Mom told him to go away. I miss the way my puppy smelled.

Our new house is not new. It’s old and smelly. There is a torn screen door with a piece of cotton pinned to the tear. Mom said it would keep the flies away, but the flies scoot right around it. My room is small and painted gray like a rainy day. I saw a big black bug that ran under the wall. All the houses are stuck together so that you can hear the people yelling right through the walls.

She told me to go to bed. I wanted to watch TV, but she said it was bad for me, so she sold it. I went to bed. I was tired and fell asleep. She was gone when I woke up. The blankets were on the floor, and the room was cold. I could see a light from the top of the window. The window was very high, and I couldn’t see out of it. Why was the window so high? I heard a noise and saw this shadow at the top of the window. It came down the wall and slid across the floor. It got bigger and bigger as it came closer. It was all over my bed, and I couldn’t get it off me! I closed my eyes. I tried to pretend it was a dream, but I could hear something scratching. I got up and started running to the door, but I stepped on something crunchy that kept moving—the bug! I jumped back on the bed and started calling her. No one came. There were no covers to crawl under because they were on the floor.

There were voices in the other room or maybe behind the wall. I kept yelling and yelling. No one heard me. No one came. I started to get cold. I could have reached the blankets, but I was afraid they were full of bugs. I could hear the bugs crawling around. I stuck my head under my pillow, but I could still hear the bugs and feel the shadow. No one came. I felt the shadow slide away.

I didn’t think I would fall asleep, but I did. I got in trouble for wetting the bed. I’ve never done that before, not even when I was little. She made me wash the sheet in the tub, but when it got wet, it was too heavy to pick up. I dragged it to the floor in my room and spread it out. Now the bugs will get on it. I don’t think I’ll let anyone read this. I told Mom about the sheet, but she said, You made your bed, now you have to lie in it. I told her I couldn’t make my bed and lie in it because the sheet was wet. I don’t need a sheet.

She told me to go outside and play. I told her I didn’t want to. She gave me her mean look, and I could tell she was starting to get mad. She pinches. First she points her long skinny finger at you, and then she starts shaking her hand up and down. She wears these loose bracelets on her wrist, so it’s like this snake giving you a warning—shake, rattle, rattle—and then she pinches. She doesn’t do it all the time. It’s not like I’m black-and-blue or anything, but it sure hurts when it happens. Someday I’m going to pinch her back. I ran outside.

There was a swing in front of the apartments that everyone used. It had three seats. There are lots of kids so you have to wait until the big kids get off. The legs of the swing are not tied down, so if there is a big kid on it and he swings hard, he will lift the legs right off the ground. Sometimes they do it on purpose. No, they always do it on purpose. When they all got tired of swinging, I got on. It was very nice to swing slowly, but it was still a long day.

We had spaghetti for dinner, but it didn’t have any red stuff. Mom said I should go to bed early so I could get some rest. I asked her if I could leave the door open a little. She said no, there was too much noise in the apartment. Apartments are what you call houses that are stuck together. I asked her again and said please. She said no. I started to cry, and she got mad and made me get in bed. She went out, and I waited until it was very quiet. I tiptoed to the door and opened it just a little. I went back to bed and fell asleep. I woke up when I heard the door slam. I made sure all the covers were on the bed, and I hid under them. The sheet was still on the floor. I couldn’t go to sleep. Someone had broken the light outside the apartment, but that was okay because there were no shadows and there was still a little light coming under the door.

I remembered my first book called Goodnight Moon, and I thought I would say good night to things like the bunny did, but there was nothing to say good night to. I noticed some light coming in the window, so I stood on a chair and looked out. There was broken glass on the sidewalk, and a garbage can was turned over. But when I looked up, there was this big yellow moon. It was just beautiful, even without a cow jumping over it. I said, Good night, moon, and went to bed. It’s nice to say good night, even if it’s just to the moon.

The next day, the boys were trying to see how high off the ground they could get the legs of the swing. They would jump off when the legs were at the highest point. One of the boys jumped off and broke his leg or something. Everyone went away except for this little black girl. She’s black all over except for her knees. Her knees are a little white. At first I was afraid because I’ve never known anyone black. But she was swinging very slowly, and she smiled at me. Her name is Aretha. She doesn’t talk much, but she is very nice. It was a much better day. It is getting easier to write.

There are a lot of black and white cars that race up and down the street. They have flashing lights and make a lot of noise. I asked Mom who they were. She told me they were looking for little girls that don’t behave. They take them away and put them in a cage. I try to hide, but I think they see me.

I can’t wait for school to start. Mrs. Carter always gave us a big hug when we first got there. Mom gives hugs, but they are more like a pat on the back or a sideways hug. A sideways hug can knock you off balance. Anyway, last year was so fun, especially when it was time to read. Mrs. Carter would take us to the reading corner. There was a soft carpet and a step you could sit on. Everyone was very nice. Mom said they treated us all like babies. She said she paid a lot for the school, so everyone had to be nice. I don’t think it works that way. Everything was warm and cozy. Even the kids in the fifth grade had a reading corner. We would take our shoes off and take turns reading. None of them could really read, but they tried. I was able to read some of the books so Mrs. Carter let me help the other kids.

I miss school, but I can read my book about a dog. It takes a long time, but that’s okay. He used to live where it was warm and nice, but now it is very cold. They keep him in a cage and hit him with a stick. Everyone used to love him, and now everyone is mean. It’s so sad, but I read it anyway. School starts tomorrow. I hope they have a reading corner.

My mom gave me a note and told me to take it to the principal’s office. She didn’t have time to go in because she was late for work. The school was old and dusty. I never knew how much I liked grass. It’s cool and soft. There’s no grass at the apartment either. Some of the same boys who played on the swings were at the school. So that was bad. But I was happy to see Aretha. We found the principal’s office, and they sent us to class.

There was no carpet or reading corner, and it was dusty inside. The teacher was late, and the boys were throwing spit wads. We all had to clean them up. That was yucky. The teacher’s name was Mrs. Mayhue, and she never smiled.

The first thing we did was say the Pledge of Allegiance. I don’t think anyone knew what allegiance meant or to whom we were pledging it. I thought it might be the bad guys Mom was talking about. If the guys were bad, I wondered why we were pledging allegiance to them. One of the boys started to giggle, and Mrs. Mayhue smacked him on the hand with a ruler. I didn’t think they could do that.

She told us everything we were going to learn during the year. I already knew everything she said she was going to teach us. Oh well. Aretha and I sat in the back so the teacher could keep an eye on the boys. The hard part was recess. There was a big playground, but there were so many kids that there was no place to sit and get out of the way. They were all running everywhere. There was a swing and a basketball court that the boys played on. The girls played jump rope or just ran around. There was this tall fence. It was made with fat wire, and at the top was this curly wire with little knives on it. Aretha said it was to keep us safe, but it didn’t look safe.

Aretha and I walked home together. Mom showed me the way yesterday. It’s five blocks. They gave us this book called Dick and Jane. Mom said that’s the same book that she used when she was a girl. They have another book that was almost interesting. I read it at lunch. They don’t have enough books for everyone so we have to share. The problem is that the boys can’t sit together without fighting, and when it’s boy-girl, they won’t sit close enough to read. Aretha can’t read, but I’ll show her. The walk home was nice because there were no boys around. She showed me how to skip. She doesn’t talk much. It seems like she’s always thinking of something far away. When we got to my house, I gave her a hug goodbye. She didn’t like it and pushed me away. That’s okay. My puppy used to squirm and push me away too.

No one was home when I got there. I have a key. I wear it around my neck on a string because sometimes I don’t have pockets. Mom said I have to hide it under my shirt or someone might steal it, break into the apartment, and steal her stuff. There was a note on the table. It said, If you can read this, I will be home in an hour. Lock the door and stay inside. You can have some cereal. It was hard to read because she has awful handwriting. I found some cereal, but the milk was bad. The cereal was Frosted Flakes. It didn’t taste too bad dry. Mom bought me a little hamburger on her way home. It had a pickle and catsup, and it was good too. The sheet finally dried. I thought she would be mad at me for leaving it on the floor for so long, but she didn’t say anything. I’m not sure what to do with it.

The bugs are dead. Well, most of them anyway. Some of them were lying on their backs with their little legs wiggling in the air. They’re pretty scary. Mom said they’re just roaches and they can’t hurt me. I don’t believe her. She sprayed the whole place with this stuff that smells a lot like what she drinks every night. She said I was responsible for keeping my room clean, so I had to sweep them up. I said no. I cried and screamed. Crying and screaming is much better than just crying. She spanked me, but I still didn’t do it. The hell with it, Mrs. Mayhue says that sometimes. My sheet is still on the floor in the corner.

My writing is going much faster now. I’m going to have to do a lot of revising. Maybe I should slow down. If I’m still not sure about a word after I look it up in the dictionary, I write it down and ask the teacher. She asked me why I didn’t ask my mother, but I didn’t know. I think Mrs. Mayhue likes me because she asked me to lead the class in reading. She sits behind her desk and reads a book, and I stand in front of the class. At first, the kids were not too happy. I remembered when Mrs. Carter had us read; she always said something like good job, or all right, or nice try, after someone read. I started doing the same thing, and the kids were a little nicer.

On Wednesdays, Aretha’s mom comes to pick her up. There is a big circle driveway where the parents come to get the kids. Aretha’s mom was in an old car with dark windows. There was loud music, and the car was full of people. Aretha’s mom got out of the car, and all this smoke came out. She looked like she was floating on a sweet-smelling cloud. She wore these big gold earrings, she was laughing, and she looked beautiful. My mom used to laugh all the time. She was prettier then.

Walking home alone was a little scary. There are cars, and noise, and people. On the busy streets, there are kids who are crossing guards. They wear these little uniforms that make them look like soldiers. They put their stop signs out, and the cars are