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    Who Owns Kelly Paddik?
    Who Owns Kelly Paddik?
    Who Owns Kelly Paddik?
    Ebook64 pages2 hours

    Who Owns Kelly Paddik?

    By Beth Goobie

    3.5/5

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    About this ebook

    Kelly Paddik is locked up. Sent to a secure facility because she is a "danger to herself," Kelly wants only to escape. But her painful past continues to haunt her until she is forced to face up to the most painful memory of all. A searing look at one girl's struggle for self respect.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherOrca Book Publishers
    Release dateJan 1, 2003
    ISBN9781554697793
    Who Owns Kelly Paddik?
    Author

    Beth Goobie

    Beth Goobie grew up in a family in which the appearance of a normal childhood hid many secrets. She moved away to attend university, became a youth residential treatment worker and studied creative writing at the University of Alberta. She is the award-winning author of over twenty novels, including The Pain Eater, The Lottery, the CLA Award-winning Before Wings, and the adult novel The First Principles of Dreaming. Beth makes her home in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan.

    Read more from Beth Goobie

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    Reviews for Who Owns Kelly Paddik?

    3.5/5

    11 ratings3 reviews

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    • 5/5
      Scent time reading it and I still love it ❤️
    • 4/5
      As Kelly, a suicidal teen in a lockup facility, seeks to answer the titular question, she learns more about herself and her will to survive than she ever thought possible. Her interactions with fellow patients and social workers gradually lead her to a better understanding of her own trauma and ability to heal.Dedicated to featuring "realistic teenage characters in stories that focus on contemporary situations or problems", Orca Soundings represents some of the best of Hi-Lo storytelling. Though readers know relatively little about Kelly's life outside of lockup, they will swiftly bond with this profoundly troubled but good-hearted 15-year-old. The relatively simple vocabulary and larger print encourage reluctant readers to try it out, and, for the most part, they won't be disappointed. Goobie's empathetic and very immediate depiction of Kelly's innermost thoughts both explains her state of mind and prompts the reader to hope that she gets better. As she spars with and later learns to pity her dramatic foil "Pit Bull", we are treated to a front-row seat of Kelly's emotional development. When, in the end, she determines that she owns herself, the moment is neither trite nor cliched but painfully earnest. Because of frank discussions of prostitution, drug use, smoking, drinking, and sexual abuse, this book is recommended for older high school students from more sheltered backgrounds, but could be used effectively with troubled teens of younger ages.
    • 3/5
      Meh. I have really liked the Orca Soundings books thus far, but this one didn't cut it for me. I think it was partly because I'd read so many similar stories before, and partly because the ending seemed really rushed and way too happy. It would have been more believable if there had been more detail -- but the Orca Soundings books are supposed to be really short. The other characters at the residential treatment center were definitely believable though, as was Kelly herself.

    Book preview

    Who Owns Kelly Paddik? - Beth Goobie

    Marymound

    Chapter One

    I sat in the car next to my social worker and stared out the window. We were out of the downtown area now, driving up Main Street into Winnipeg’s north end. The car passed store after store, then a McDonald’s. A woman at a bus stop stared straight at me, then looked away with nothing on her face. That was what it was like when you were a kid in the system. So many people looking right through you with polite nothingness on their faces. It always made me wonder if the nothingness came from them or me.

    I’m fifteen years old and I’m being driven to a lockup. The thought kept pounding through my head. Outside the car, yellow leaves blew down the street like sadness, like freedom. The car turned off Main Street and passed a row of houses. At the end of the street stood a huge black iron gate. It was like something out of a horror movie. The car drove through the gate into a parking lot. Ahead of us was a tall, very old brick building. The sign out front said: MARY-MOUND SCHOOL FOR GIRLS.

    Two days ago I’d been here for a meeting, but this time I was here to stay. As the car got close to the front door, I saw the wires in the windows. Wire run through glass makes windows harder to smash and climb out. That means you can’t get out — you’re stuck wherever you are until someone decides to let you out.

    I wasn’t even inside yet, and I could feel the walls moving in on me. Waves of panic rose up my throat, and I felt as if I was drowning. I couldn’t let them do this to me, I couldn’t.

    Pushing open the car door, I dug my feet into the ground and took off for the gate. I could hear my social worker yelling, but then a huge roaring filled my ears. At the parking lot entrance, the horror movie gate still stood open, waiting for me.

    I had to get away — that was all I could think about. The gate grew and grew, and then I was through it and out in the street. Everything in me pulled together and began to run, as fast as my heart was beating, faster.

    Then I heard feet pounding after me. They were gorilla feet — loud and heavy. I didn’t have to look back to know they were a man’s. He was right behind me, and I gave up then because men are stronger and meaner than girls. I know that if I know anything. I stopped running and felt the air stand still around me. I was gasping, trying to catch my breath as I watched the street run away without me. The man’s hand touched my arm — not too heavy, but there.

    I’ll give you a minute to catch your breath, he said.

    I didn’t say anything. He stood there panting, waiting for me to stop breathing so hard. I wouldn’t look at him, just stared down the street and pretended his hand wasn’t on my arm. Finally he said, Kelly, I’m Jim. I think we’ll head back now.

    We walked back in silence. I kept kicking at leaves and watching my feet. Prisoner feet, I thought as we walked through the gate. When we got to the car, my social worker glared at me.

    That wasn’t very smart, Kelly Paddik.

    I tried to look at her as if I’d never seen her before and couldn’t care less. Inside, though, I was crying — crying in my hands and stomach and legs.

    I looked away from my social worker’s face, and then I saw the woman standing beside her. Even though she wasn’t wearing a headdress, I could tell right away that she was a nun. Her uniform was a light brown, and there was a small cross on her chest. Seeing a nun scared me so bad I thought my knees and elbows were going to come apart. It’s just that in stories and movies there are always nuns in places like this. That’s how you know you’re locked up for good.

    Hello, Kelly. I’m Sister Mary. She was so short, the top of her head came to my shoulders. And she was old — grandmother old. If all the staff in here were like this, I could run away easy. This started to cheer me up, until I remembered Jim.

    C’mon in and I’ll show you your room, Sister Mary said.

    Just like hotel service, I thought.

    Jim followed close behind to make sure I didn’t make a run for it again. I felt as if I was wearing him like a body glove. He probably thought of himself as my bodyguard — just a nice guy keeping Kelly Paddik away from all the bad stuff. So if he was so nice, then why was he making

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