The Speed of Mercy by Christy Conlin (good books for high schoolers txt) 📕

that moment when she was looking away the light got brighter and there was a slight breeze that come up so quick. And then Nana pulled the trigger. You always think a gun makes a great boom and I suppose you can hear the crack of a shotgun ringing through the trees. But Nana’s .22 made only a pop and the animal jerked once, and then it was still. That’s all it took, just a little pop and the thing ceased to be, and the air went still and the light soft. The ditches were full of lupins. Nana rolled the dead animal down to the bottom of the ditch where the dead babies were. There’s worse ways to be left than there among the flowers and the green grasses and the daisies. They would rot and the turkey vultures would come and they would go back to the earth.

“Nana died just after that. I was only about thirteen or so. I was left with an uncle and a cousin and that didn’t go well. I ended up in the hospital, as you already know. They never found my cousin. I don’t suspect they ever will. I went to live with Sorcha, until I had some episodes, which I don’t recollect. She kept me home while she looked after her daddy. Then they put me here. I don’t blame her. Now Sorcha swims every day and she’s gardening, and gave up smoking. I don’t think I ever will. Sorcha’s ten years older than me and her life wasn’t easy neither. But I do enjoy the holidays over to Kingsport. Right, Stella?

“My nanna only drank tea out of her apple blossom pot. I don’t know who give it to her but she was some attached to it. I got it in my room, with my boxes. Nana would make her concoctions and put them in glass jars on the shelf in the pantry. Right pretty to look at. Some tasted pretty too. Some tasted like the urge. Gracie, my bones are telling me now a storm is coming this summer. There’s signs. Maybe it’s my time.”

Stella heard a change in Dianne’s voice, how slowly she was speaking now.

“A Black girl came looking for Stella the other day but I sent her away.”

Dianne’s voice was amplifying with every word. It wasn’t like Dianne was doing it — more like someone was turning up the volume, forcing Stella to listen. She put her hands over her ears and rubbed to make the words stop. Why was a woman looking for her? There was a resident who lived on the first floor of the Jericho Centre. She was African Nova Scotian. That’s how Grace described her. The Valley was not a friendly place for young women. Who had told her that? Her head hurt. Dianne’s voice was even louder now.

“And now it’s time for supper, Gracie. Not getting nothing else from me today.”

Stella took a notepad out of her bag, the first time in many months. She wrote, I want to see my uncle.

Grace put her hands on the back of her head and looked up at the ceiling. Dianne closed her eyes as she spoke. “’Course you do, Stellie. ’Course you do.”

Grace sighed. “Oh Stella, I’ll talk to you tomorrow about that. I’ve got to get home now. The dog hasn’t been out all day.”

Dianne stretched her neck and rubbed her shoulders, turning at the doorway, beckoning to Stella, who followed her like a cygnet.

Commonplace Book of the Offing Society.

Then

Stella wakes to the sound of her father typing.

He is busy in the front room he’s using as an office, or his study, as he prefers to call it. He doesn’t want to talk, shuffling through his papers when she finally comes downstairs. “Good morning,” he mumbles, briefly glancing up at her and then looking back at the old typewriter, talking to it instead of Stella. She can’t tell if he even went to bed.

“I have to make more headway on this paper. We’ll do a fun trip, just as soon as I get this done. A father-daughter extravaganza. Why don’t you go explore on your bike? That way you’ll feel more confident when you go biking with Cynthia again. Frank says Cynthia got called in to volunteer at the library. You could volunteer there too, Stella. It’s just a few blocks from here. Just head west.”

Stella takes a deep breath. She has a horrible sense of direction. Her father knows this. She watches him put his hands on the desk, probably readying himself for her refusal. Stella doesn’t say anything. She decides he can keep waiting. He doesn’t even seem worried she might fall and hit her head.

“Just find the North Mountain. And to the left of that is west, and to the right, it is east. Which means the mountain on the opposite side is south. Surely that will work?” Her father exhales through his lips, like a motorboat.

Stella makes toast in the kitchen and spreads jam on it. She hopes she can make jam with Granny Scotia and Cynthia, do something fun, something normal. After she’s dressed, she brushes her teeth. She goes back to her father’s study. The door is closed. She can smell the cigarette smoke coming from under the door. Stella knocks. At first he doesn’t answer and she wonders if he’s gone out. When he opens the door she sees the beer on the desk behind him. He has the blinds pulled halfway down and a lamp on.

“I’m going for a bike ride. Maybe I’ll check out the library.”

He smiles and rubs the stubble on his cheeks. It’s getting scruffy. It’s easier for him than shaving. An inertia beard. “Well, that’s wonderful. Let’s see how you do. You’ll be as good as Cynthia in no time, Stella. Remember, head west to get to Main Street. Look for the mountain. Even you can’t miss it.”

Stella heads out through the back porch and through the