When she left, Anita took Mom's valise, the round one with the wooden handle from Eaton's department store. Mom was furious. She'd had it on hold at the store for weeks while she earned enough to pay for it, scrubbing at the unloved space behind strangers' toilets, teaching cello to wealthy children who would rather be at the movies. She liked to say that she ruined her hands to hold that valise, and now, for what? Why the sacrifice now? The neighbors always said that Anita was that kind of girl, that's why none of them stopped her when they saw her get in the car with that boy. Souped up thin