EXTRACT: Yeah? I’ve had my whole life to deal with kids at school saying, “I feel so sorry for you, not knowing your real dad”; wondering whether it’s worth telling the check-out chick when she looks at my dark-haired mom and asks, “So where’d they find you? In the cabbage patch?” Sticking up for Zoe at school when they say her dad’s a wanker.
Then I see my dad’s face. It’s not HIS genes running around on that field. Does he look sorry for himself, knowing he was some sort of genetic DUD? Shit, no!
Female | Teen | Under 3 minutes Starts on page 50
It’s me. Dee. Please don’t turn this off.
Deidre Maeve Ryan. I’m seventeen. Born May seventh, two thousand.
She moves closer to the camera, touching her face.
Remind you of anyone?
She steps back.
I don’t wanna freak you out. Really. I’m not some psycho. I’ve just learned that we might be related. Which is kinda like freaking me out.
So I thought I’d introduce myself.
I was named after my Irish Grandmother, Deidre Maeve Ryan. At least I thought she was my grandmother. I don’t remember her coz she died when I was two.