“A gorgeous girl like you?”
Gorgeous. When was the last time someone had said that about her?
“Thanks.”
“I saw you following one of the same people I follow.”
He gave the name. She recalled.
“Cool. Thanks for reaching out.”
“How could I not? You seem fun. What kinds of things do you like?”
A knock at the door. Her mom poked her head in. “Want to grab some ice cream?”
“No, I’m okay.”
“You sure?” Abby nodded. “Nose okay?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“If you change your mind, let me know.” Her mother closed the door.
“I like playing soccer.”
“Me too. You have a favourite team?”
“Bayern Munich. Real Madrid.”
“I love Real Madrid.”
“What kinds of things do you like?”
“I’m a big soccer fan too. I love the feeling of being in a packed-out stadium. What else do you like?”
“Movies. Music.”
“What kind?”
“All kinds. Depends. I like trying different kinds out. You?”
“Yeah, I like all kinds too. Fun to try different things out. Lots of great stuff out there. You like hockey?”
“Yes! Go Leafs! I think this might finally be our year. Think we’ll finally do it?”
“Absolutely. We have to keep believing. You been in Toronto your whole life?”
“Yup. Born and raised. You?”
“Same. My parents too. Yours?”
“Yeah.”
“Your parents work close to your home?”
“I wish. My dad is away a lot with work.”
“That’s a bummer. He doesn’t know what he’s missing.”
“He’s great. Just not around much.”
“You had a good week so far?”
“School’s been okay. Homework. Other than that, not much.”
She wondered if she should have said that. Did that make her sound like she didn’t get out much?
“Nothing fun? No one to go see a movie or watch a game with?”
“Nope.”
Back and forth they went. She usually went to sleep around 10:30. He finally said good night at 1:30. She lay down in bed. Her alarm woke her four and half hours later, leaving her with the groggy feeling of a short night’s rest.
She didn’t discuss the texts with her mom over breakfast. Not with Kedisha over lunch. She rushed home that evening and threw herself on her bed with her phone, feeling the comfort that comes with being able to share your thoughts with someone who cares.
“I’ve been thinking about becoming a nurse,” she typed.
“You would be great at that.” His response came so fast. She smiled.
“I don’t know. It’s a lot of schooling. I’m not the best student.”
“It’s high school. Boring. Once you’re doing something you love you will be great at it.”
“You think so?”
“I know it. Your nose all better?”
“Still a little bit of a bruise. But I hardly notice anymore.”
“It’s been fun getting to know you.”
“It’s been fun getting to know you too.”
“You’re a really honest person. I’ve never met anyone like you.”
“I’ve never met anyone like you either.”
She watched the screen for his next response. Waited. Waited. Waited. Wondered if he had forgotten about her. Then it came.
“So, would you like to get together sometime?”
chapter three
Rain pounded the jet bridge as travellers from Winnipeg to Ottawa Macdonald-Cartier disembarked from the plane. Drops pelted the roof and glass, creating a loud reverberating beat. Joy Smith, wearing a black coat over a black pinstripe pantsuit and pulling her carry-on suitcase, stepped off the walkway into the airport. Ever since her early morning flight took off, her mind had been processing all the many tasks she had to accomplish today.
And that list was about to get much, much longer.
Her phone rang. She brushed a strand of white hair away from her ear and checked the number. It was unfamiliar to her.
“Hello,” she said, in a tone conveying both gentleness and strength. The line was quiet. “Hello, how can I help you?”
“Is this Joy Smith?” a teenage girl’s frantic voice asked.
“Yes, it is. May I ask your name?”
“Are you the member of Parliament who’s helping victims of human trafficking?”
“Yes, I am. Please tell me how I can help you.”
“I … I …” The stressed voice on the other end tried to continue. Erratic. Accompanied by heavy breathing. Like someone who was about to pass out.
“It’s going to be all right. Tell me where you are, and I will get you help.”
“I think …”
“Yes.”
“I think I’m a victim. I need … I need …”
“Are you safe right now?”
“I … I …”
The girl was becoming hysterical.
“It’s going to be all right. May I have your name?”
The line went quiet again. As if the girl on the other end was wondering if saying this over the phone was safe.
“Samantha.”
