To whom this may concern,
I remember the 60s, growing up a young girl in the mean streets of Idaho. I never knew who my mother was--she left us just before I was born--and my dad, well, he tried to raise me right, but I just wouldn't listen. I was on the fast track to drugs, sex, and studyin' law, and I liked it that way.
Then came that cold day in July. It was one of the few days I was actually in school and not playing hooky shootin' craps or playin' games in one of them fancy pantsy new r-cades. See, I'd heard we had a new principal steppin' in. He wanted to clean up the school, teach the kids they could be somebody. That's what he told the mayor, that's what he promised the city. I wanted to be the first brick wall on the quick, nasty road to breakin' that promise.
At first it went all smooth-like. Loiterin', stealin' lunch money from the rich kids, eating beans and moonin' the old, crusty nuns with audio. A good half-hour. Heh. It was all good 'till Ol' Man Ortiz caught us.
I was the only one who didn't get away.
That afternoon changed my life forever. He took me under his wing, y'know? He showed me that there was a world I'd never seen before, that I could do things I'd never done.
Now I sell my body for crack. My pimp smacks me around, but he does that to all of us. But...but I know deep down I'm his only girl.
Thanks, Mr. Ortiz.
