Gang Girl Read online

  Gang Girl

  Nancy Miller

  James Lorimer & Company Ltd., Publishers

  Toronto

  This book is dedicated to all teens who struggle to ‘fit in.’ Be careful what you wish for.

  Chapter 1

  First Day

  Sasha watched the girl standing next to the man. Both were holding on to the hanging straps as the bus swayed back and forth. The girl’s well-formed backside seemed poured into her black jeans, and the man’s gaze kept flicking over it. Even pulled back into a neat bun, the girl’s bright red hair stood out among the greys, blacks, and browns of the morning commute.

  Without warning, the bus lurched to a stop. The girl put her hand on the man’s chest to steady herself. Glad to have her attention, he leaned on her shoulder and waved off her apology. Sasha saw the girl’s other hand discreetly dip into the man’s pocket, pull out a wallet, and drop it into her own pocket. Then the girl waved goodbye to the man and got off the bus. It took all of about five seconds and, in that time, Sasha never once saw the thief’s face.

  Stunned, Sasha almost didn’t realize that this was her stop too. When she got off the bus she saw the girl heading for Sasha’s brand new school. Sasha looked back and caught the man leaning down to leer at both of them through the bus window.

  What a way to start school in a brand new city and country! It wasn’t like she wasn’t aware of pickpockets. But this, according to her mother, was one of the better areas of Toronto. In Moscow, petty theft was confined to the poorer areas. Sasha had never lived in a poor area, ever.

  Of course, back in Moscow her father had made sure bodyguards were watching the family all the time. Her parents had always worried she would be robbed, kidnapped, or worse. Once she got into her teens, Sasha had tried to duck her guards. She and her friends had gotten away with quite a lot. If only she’d been more careful about that one little hacking job. Just one stupid thing and now here she was in Canada.

  Actually, it wasn’t just that one stupid thing, she was realizing. She had been getting careless. Every online prank had become less and less of a thrill. She really didn’t want to be tied up in a life of crime. Her banishment to Canada may have come at a perfect time for her. She’d saved face with her friends and she got to think about a real future.

  The girl on the bus was an eye-opener, though. That wasn’t something she expected to see on her first day. But as she arrived at the school, Sasha saw no sign of the girl and she quickly forgot about it.

  Sasha was directed to a classroom where all the kids were shouting and throwing things at each other. This would not have happened at home. The teacher stood there, hands on hips. Finally everyone settled down and the teacher turned to Sasha, standing in the doorway. She waved Sasha in and pointed to an empty desk. To get there, Sasha had to walk across the room in front of the whole class and halfway down the other side.

  When Sasha was seated, the teacher said, “Class, this is Sasha. She’s new to Canada from Moscow. Please help her with her English and anything else. And if you’re lucky, maybe she’ll help you with your math and computer skills. She’s a whiz.”

  “You can help me with my math anytime,” called out one guy, pointing to Sasha and then to himself.

  A girl across from him threw a piece of rolled-up paper at him. “Shut up, Max,” she said.

  Another guy shouted, “Yeah, I could use some computer help. How about we Snapchat with each other?” he said with his fingers tickling the air. Everyone laughed.

  It always happened. Sasha was too tall and too blond. She had the physical assets to attract attention — often the wrong kind of attention. Now her face got hot and a drop of sweat rolled down her chest. At home those boys would be punished. Here, the teacher just turned to the board. “Okay class, quiet down and open your books to page one hundred and ten.”

  What book? What subject?

  Sasha quickly sorted through the books she’d been given the week before. She found the one that matched what she saw other kids opening and turned to page 110. She kept her head down, pleading silently, please don’t call on me for anything. This was just what she was afraid of — being singled out, even ridiculed. Her accent was strong and she knew a lot of Canadians saw Russian girls as too big and likely on steroids. Her training for basketball and track in Russia had gotten her in shape. But was it the right shape for Canada?

  In Moscow, her father’s position as a minister of justice made her part of privileged society. It made sure she wasn’t centred out or put in the spotlight unfairly. If she wanted attention, she could get it herself. Here, attention needed to come slowly so she could figure out the system.

  When the bell rang, everyone rushed out of their seats and out of the room. Sasha was left alone with the teacher, whom she’d never met and whose name she didn’t know. She went up to the desk at the front.

  “Can you tell me what the homework is, please?” asked Sasha.

  “You need to talk to the ESL coordinator — that’s English as a second language,” said the teacher, handing her a page with typed instructions. “He’ll help you make sense of it. After your last class today, take these papers to him. His office is down the hall and up the stairs on the left. Don’t go right or you’ll end up in the gym. At the top of the stairs, head past the washrooms to room two thirty-four.”

  “Thank you . . .” Sasha said, then mumbled, “I guess.” She checked her agenda and made her way to her second class.

  Chapter 2

  The CREW

  At the end of the day, with everything she had collected from all her classes, Sasha did her best to remember the directions to find room 234. When she finally arrived, the man behind the desk stood up.

  “I’m Frank, the ESL coordinator,” he said. “I assume you’re Sasha. Ms. Riker told me you were coming.”

  He held his hand out. Sasha pulled one of her hands from under her stack of books and papers. As she reached out to shake his hand and tried to remember the name Ms. Riker at the same time, her books started to topple. She grabbed them, leaving Frank with his hand uselessly hanging in between them. He blushed and laughed a little awkwardly.

  “Clumsy. Sorry,” Sasha mumbled.

  Totally uncomfortable, she sat down in the chair across from his desk while he circled to the other side of it. She dropped her books on another chair, and clutched the papers in one hand. Frank went on. “As the ESL coordinator, my job is to advise new students on their studies and how they can learn better English. Hand me those papers and we’ll sort your work.”

  Before Frank could even sit down, a ripple of laughter from the hall made them both look up. Four girls had crowded themselves into the doorway. Three were standing, one was in a wheelchair. All four wore sweatshirts that said The CREW.

  “Hey, Frank,” said a smoky voice. Sasha turned her head to look at its owner. The girl’s buttoned-up grey blouse under her sweatshirt was a little short in the sleeves, and part of the hem on her black skirt was unravelled. Her outfit reminded Sasha of a private school uniform.

  The girl announced with great authority, “We’ve come for your signature on a petition to fence in that dog park across the street.”

  Instead of taking charge, Frank blushed and sat down. She watched as the girls came closer. She could tell that it made Frank more uncomfortable. “Not now, girls. I’m busy,” he tried.

  Ignoring him, another girl spoke. She was standing behind the others, so Sasha couldn’t see her. But her English accent stood out. “Some of the students have to walk across the park and are afraid of dogs.”

  Then a third, childlike voice added, “And some of the neighbours are afraid too. We’ve gone around a
nd we have almost five hundred signatures. How about signing?”

  The girl in the wheelchair pushed her way up to Frank’s desk. Her confidence shone through as her long, dark hair floated around her pretty face. She put her hand on his arm.

  “Oh, come on, Frances,” Frank said, moving her hand off his arm. “Please, girls.” His discomfort reminded Sasha of how she’d felt in the classroom. “I’m in a meeting now. Come back when I have more time.”

  The girls pressed on. “Come on, Frank. It will only take a minute.”

  And the smoky-voiced girl said, “You know you want to.”

  Another piped in, “Or I could come back when you’re alone.” The other girls giggled.

  “No, thanks.”

  Then one of them, the tiny girl with the childlike voice, moved around to crouch beside Sasha. Her crisp pink dress was in high contrast to the other girl’s shabby uniform. “Hi, Sasha.” How did they know her name?

  “I saw you in Ms. Riker’s class today. I’m Anzuela.” She went on to explain to Sasha what the petition was for.

  Sasha looked at Frank for help. He threw his eyes to the ceiling and signed as they held out the clipboard. Sasha signed too. The girls quickly left the room. Frank sighed again and his voice was tight. “Shall we get back to work?”

  Sasha pulled her courage together. She asked, “Who are they?”

  “Ah . . . they are the CREW.” Frank shook off his discomfort. “They rule the school as self-appointed leaders. They get away with this kind of stuff because they organize charity events and help people. If Anzuela said you should be involved, believe me, you will be involved.”

  Sasha’s nerves jumped up a notch. Involved?

  “But watch out,” Frank warned her. “They are pushy. When they want something, they usually get it.” He shook his head again and picked up Sasha’s papers.

  After Frank had explained her homework, Sasha headed out to the hall and tried to retrace her steps to get to the front door. She went down a set of stairs, only to find herself in a brand new hallway. Too late, she realized she’d taken the wrong stairs. And coming toward her was Anzuela, one of the CREW. The girl was smiling, walking in front of a group of students who seemed to be congratulating her on running a great campaign. Anzuela saw her and called out to Sasha, “Come to the gym! See how you can do more.”

  One guy in the group turned his eyes toward Sasha. “Hey, haven’t seen you before.” His eyes scaled her body. “You are fiiiine.” The guy who called out to her this morning in class turned to his friend and said, “Out of your league, Freddie. She was in my class this morning. She’s from Moscow and she’s a little full of herself.”

  Full of myself, Sasha thought. The slang here was going to be her downfall. Grammar she could do, but “full of herself”? She’d have to learn quickly so she could fit in.

  To avoid the other students’ stares, Sasha followed the group into the gym. It was crowded with kids and she quickly realized this was the meeting they had been talking about in Frank’s office. She started to leave. But the posters and signs around the room caught her eye.

  You can be part of the CREW:

  Confident

  Remarkable

  Excellent

  Welcoming

  All four CREW members she saw earlier stood at the front of the room. Sasha remembered Frances and Anzuela from the ESL office. The girls’ name tags identified the others — Martha was the smoky-voiced leader and Beryl was the one with the English accent. Sasha slipped into an empty chair. What could it hurt?

  “What does the CREW stand for?” Martha shouted at the students. The crowd shouted back, “Confident, Remarkable, Excellent, Welcoming!” With her jacket off and her sleeves rolled up, Martha had gone from private school student to protest leader.

  “Everyone can make the world a little better,” she went on. “We all can be leaders.” Then Anzuela went around the room with a tablet that showed pictures of a playground, with Anzuela waving at the camera. “This is in Alliston, north of Toronto. My friend asked us to help them get a playground. So the CREW went to work and raised money and wrote letters to officials. In a year, they had a playground.”

  A second picture showed Frances raking a garden from her wheelchair. Frances wheeled herself to the front of the group. “This is the community garden in Etobicoke that we worked on. It was dying and the CREW rounded up a bunch of people to work it back to health.”

  Then Beryl came forward holding a laptop. “Using a computer is easy for us,” she started. “It’s just one of our everyday tools. But for older people who didn’t grow up with computers, it’s often really complicated. They need our help.” She told the group about a seniors’ home nearby that was looking for someone to help residents learn basic computer navigation. Her eyes scanned the crowd. “People like you, Sasha.” She pointed to Sasha at the back of the room. “I know you’ve got the computer smarts.”

  What? This was making her nervous, like a sci-fi movie where everyone knows your name. Or worse, one where everyone wants something from you. Come on. It was only her first day.

  But the CREW seemed very popular. And she did want friends. She needed time to think about it. Her confusion must have shown because, before she could answer, she heard Anzuela’s baby voice saying, “It’s okay, Sasha, we’ll talk to you later. Just keep Friday night open.”

  The meeting ended and Sasha scurried out the door. Everything was happening so fast. The CREW, the guys coming on to her, the pickpocket on the bus.

  Her mother wasn’t home when she got there, so she went straight to her room to make sense of her homework. Fortunately, she’d done her math homework at school. The math was easy, far below where she’d been in Moscow.

  She let herself think about the CREW. Maybe these were the people who ran things. Her father had always said not to get in with troublemakers and to stick to the upper class. But her mother said to find out who’s in charge and make friends with them.

  For the moment, Sasha thought that her mother knew best.

  Chapter 3

  New Best Friends

  The next day at lunch, Sasha sat alone studying British authors. A deep voice interrupted her thoughts. “Can I sit here?”

  Sasha really didn’t want anyone there. She needed to study. She frowned and looked up into an electric smile. White teeth and a little lift on one side of perfect lips pointed up into large eyes so dark they were almost black. Those eyes were looking at her like there was nobody else in the room. The boy’s coffee-coloured skin was as smooth as a baby’s. “Please?” he added.

  Sasha hadn’t had time to think about guys since she arrived. With her studies and getting used to a new city and school, she was too caught up to hook up.

  So what went on here? Was it okay to talk to a boy without being introduced? In Moscow she did it all the time on her own, but that didn’t make it acceptable. But he was so cute. And this was different because Sasha recognized him. He was a star basketball player for the school’s senior team. She had noticed his picture was in the trophy case and that everyone said hi to him in the halls.

  Sasha gestured to the other side of the table. “Go ahead.” So much for British authors.

  “My name’s Jake,” he said, taking his seat. “I know yours is Sasha. I have to admit I’ve been checking up on you.”

  Sasha’s radar clicked in. Maybe he was a spy for her father or for school security. “That sounds creepy,” she said. “Why would you do that?”

  “Well, so I could learn about you. And I learned you’re tall and beautiful, and you play basketball. And you’re reading British authors, my favourite subject. Here you are all by yourself. It was the perfect chance to talk to you. So can I talk to you, Sasha?”

  Sasha listened, her heart floating up to her throat. She swallowed hard and looked around. Nobody was watching, so she squeaked out a weak, �
�I guess.” Then, getting more confident, she said, “What do you want to talk about?”

  “Well, maybe what you’re doing Saturday night.” Before Sasha could answer, a backpack landed heavily on the table between them. “I know what you’re doing Saturday night, Jake,” said Martha. “We’re all going to the Playground where there’s a really sick party and vinyl launch.”

  “Uh, I don’t think so, Martha. There’ll be drinking there and I can’t party like that. Training, you know. Anyway, I gotta go,” he said getting up. “Sasha, we’ll have that talk another time, okay?” He turned his bright smile on Sasha and walked off.

  When he was gone, Martha looked at Sasha. “Just be careful around Jake. You don’t want to make enemies.” She smiled and walked away.

  What did that mean? Well, it was only her second day. She was sure Jake’s interest wouldn’t last. Too bad. He seemed really nice.

  ***

  The next morning Sasha’s mother woke her with a swish of the curtains to let in the light. Covering her eyes with one hand and throwing off the blankets with the other, Sasha sat up.

  “So how was school, my darling?” Sasha’s mother asked. She hadn’t come home until after midnight.

  “Different,” said Sasha, getting out of bed. “You were home late.” Her mother ignored Sasha’s chiding and went digging through Sasha’s closet. “Hmmm,” her mother said as she scanned the clothing.

  “Mother, please do not choose my clothes for me,” Sasha said. “I know what I’m going to wear. I’ll be down in a minute.” Sasha closed her closet door, almost catching her mother’s hand. Then she stormed into the bathroom.

  “Oh, so grouchy. We will see what you choose. Can you tell me one thing about your two days in school?”

  “Okay, I met some girls who run a leadership group and they want me to join them.”

  Her mother actually clapped her hands. “Wonderful. What do their fathers do?”

  Sasha came out of the bathroom and checked her closet. “I have no idea,” she said. She frowned at her Russian wardrobe. She’d seen what the girls were wearing. And now she was sure she didn’t have anything that worked. Jeans with another sweater — a bulky sweater to hide her “assets.” She could get away with that for now.