Fall 2014 • Vol. XXXVI No. 4 Fiction |

She

She'd been homeschooled for ten years, whipped for eleven, and tomorrow she would celebrate her fifteenth birthday. That's why she'd come to Los Angeles, to turn fifteen alone and free in a city she'd never been to before. Learning to add had been learning to collect any denomination of coin or bill until she'd had enough to buy this one bus ticket, yet even then Sheriff Curty had been waiting at the bus station in Needles to take her home. She heard him making commands into the radio at his shoulder, then questioning the bus driver, his boot hiked up onto the stoop. "She's five-five about, blonde, blue-eyed, fat as a seal." She crouched on the floor of the bus, in the sixth or seventh row of seats, her bare knees in gum wrappers and grit. She could sight down the metal legs screwed into the flooring, and she could see the dark horizontal length of his thigh and his handset down upon it wearing the huge police academy ring. "She's a minor," Sheriff Curty said. "That means sh

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The Peeping Toms

By Lori Ostlund

She'd been homeschooled for ten years, whipped for eleven, and tomorrow she would celebrate her fifteenth birthday. That's why she'd come to Los Angeles, to turn fifteen alone and free […]

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