A/N: Hey there :) this is my first time publishing any fanfiction of mine, so any criticisms or reviews are more than welcome. I hope you enjoy my take on how I think the Shane we all know and love came to be ;)

Nine

"Shane, you know I love you very much, right baby?"

"Yes, mama,"

Shane couldn't understand why there were tears in her mother's eyes, or why her usually smooth-as-butter drawl was choked, but she knew it couldn't mean anything good. The leather seat of the old car stuck to the backs of her legs. She felt like she was melting in the summer sun, as though maybe she was an ant in the eye of God's mighty magnifying glass. The car suddenly parked, not that she really noticed anything going on outside the windows. She preferred to look at the floorboards or her feet. The world always moved so fast with Mama driving. Suddenly, her mother cleared her throat.

"Look at me, Shane."

She hesitated, then unglued her eyes from her sneakers, wondering if she was going to get a talking to again for chasing Tiffany G. around. Tiffany, whose hair was as golden as wheat; golden as the Sunshine meal she'd stolen from her just weeks ago. Shane loved to chase her, but it seemed to worry Mama- something about the fact that she never chased boys around like Tiffany or the other girls. Could she really this upset about it? Shane pulled herself out of her thoughts and back to the reality of the situation. Which, honestly, she didn't quite understand yet.

"You know how mamas been havin' a… hard time lately?"

Shane nodded.

"I'm not so good at watchin' ya, or feedin' ya, or I guess even clothin' ya." She looked down at Shane's jeans, at the little rips in the sides of them, sighing to herself at the way that the ankles didn't even reach her daughter's feet anymore. "I'm just no good," she choked out. "But I love you okay? So much. And I guess… sometimes you gotta realize that no matter how much ya love someone, sometimes you have to let them go for their own good."

Shane's brows furrowed, trying to understand what this could all mean. What was she trying to say?

Tears started to stream down the woman's face.

"I can't take care of you anymore." Her eyes closed as her grip tightened against the steering wheel. "I just ain't fit, and I've been thinkin'… Maybe you could have a better life with a better family. Maybe you could be somethin'. 'Cause I know if you stick with me, you'll end up like me."

Shane's still knit brows bent upward in confusion. A new family? What would that even mean? Was mama really just gonna give her up, just like that to some strangers? Her eyes welled up.

"B-but," her voice wavered, as the tears started coming, and Mama followed suit, starting to lose it. She couldn't stand to hear her baby cry. She unbuckled her lap belt and slid over to the opposite side of the front seat, holding her daughter.

"I'm so, so sorry, Shaney. I just don't know what else to do. You don't deserve to live in that stupid one bedroom with the Andersons and Craig, and all them damn kids runnin' around. You're a growin' girl. You need opportunity. A room for yourself. A better life that I could never give to you, even if I tried as hard as I could."

Even at nine, Shane could see the rationality in what her mother was saying. She was used to being ushered from place to place, sometimes the only place being the church shelter, or the alley on 10th street. She hated that alley the most, the way her mother would intermittently walk off with strange men, coming back dazed out of her mind, her shirt buttoned all wrong, and the way she seemingly melted into the pavement while nodding off. She couldn't stand seeing the little holes in her mom's arm, though she didn't fully understand why they were there. All she knew was that Mama would get so tired she sometimes forgot to scrounge up some food. Or that she forgot to spend the money men seemed to just give to her after quick "dates" (as she told Shane) on sustenance. However, she especially didn't like where they were now- staying with the Andersons in their gritty little apartment that was falling apart and bursting at the seams. Their floor was the least comfortable of all the floors she'd ever slept on, which was really saying something. The Andersons were loud, brash, and constantly rude. Their five children were just the same, constantly running, fighting and screaming. Craig, her mother's boyfriend, somehow seemed to be the worst thing about staying there though. She hated how he looked at her with some kind of sick disdain, mixed with stares that lingered just slightly too long for comfort. She couldn't stand the way he raised his voice at her over the smallest things, calling her names that she couldn't understand the meaning of. Most of all she hated how he was the cause of her mother's bruises, and her currently swollen eye.

In fact, she could remember always wanting to leave, how when things were really loud, she'd close her eyes and imagine a beautiful beach; the kinds she'd always heard so much about that had boardwalks, and dogs, and more food than you could ever know what to do with. She always pretended that the decaying apartment's coarse, tan carpets were sand; imagining she was laying on the surf without a care in the world.

As her mother held her close and they cried into each other, she knew deep down that she was right. Sometimes you just have to let people go for their own good, even when it hurts.