Chapter 69


    GRACE


    I go to work the next day. After she finished sweeping the streets with ire, we return to the


    Sanitation Center for our lunch break. However, I notice that my colleagues are giving me sidelong


    nces one at a time. Some nces are looks of curiosity, while others are filled with disdain,


    mockery, and pity.


    And many of them are pointing at me as they whisper amongst themselves.


    I find it weird.


    ire looks rmed as she approaches from the supply closet. She pulls me aside and quietly asks,


    "Grace, were you in jail?"


    I’m shaken and my face instantly pales. it’s like I can feel the blood leaving my body.


    I didn’t lie on my application. I was forthright with my incarceration and mymitment to being a


    productive member of society again. But that information should have been private.


    Although… I’d already mentally prepared herself for this, knowing that every secret had its way of


    surfacing.


    This one, about her past, was inevitable. I suppose I’m lucky to have made it this long.


    And yet, when surrounded by people who were gazing at me with varying degrees of shock and disgust


    and disdain as they casually discuss my past as if they had any right to judge me…I’m still caught by


    surprise and feel blindsided by it all.


    My coworkers stare and point. The secret is officially out. They all know about my imprisonment.


    "Hmm," I hum in agreement.


    "Oh, you''re such a good kid, why were you in jail? What did you do?" ire asks. She had rushed over


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    for confirmation after someone else had told her about it. So apparently the gossip mill hadn’t filled


    ire in yet on the specifics.


    "Manughter caused by drunk driving," I reply.


    "In most cases of drunk driving, even if it causes death, the punishment is usually imprisonment with a


    suspension of sentence as well as having to providepensation, but the Atkinson family was


    adamant about not taking a single penny from me. They just wanted me to be in jail.” I swallow hard


    and waited for ire to rebuff me. “I spent three years in prison before being released.”


    "Oh... you..." ire sighs. "I heard you were awyer back then but now you''ve fallen so low that you


    sweep the streets with me, which is very sad indeed. You should never drink and drive."


    ire chatters on but does not use a critical tone and it fills my hear with relief.


    But that feeling is very short-lived at what happens next.