Almost Home (21 page)
She opens her mouth to argue. I steel myself to fight back. It glints in my eyes, and when she sees it she folds in a flash. I’m so much harder than her, so much further down, and she is so, so tired. She breathes out and starts to cry again and shakes her head No. Now she’s in my hands. I run with it.
“Okay, listen,” I say, breathing in, making myself believe I’m pointing her the right way. Like hope, or faith or something, where you don’t really know it’s true but you reach for it anyway: you have to, just keep reaching out till your hands close around it. It’s so long since I’ve believed anything I can hardly remember how. “You have to try. I mean it. If you don’t, you’re gonna die out here.” That part I know.
“Come on.” I make my voice as solid as I can and stand up, holding out my hand. She’s clutching that backpack for dear life, face streaked, cheeks hot, eyes shining. Wind and traffic rustle through the bougainvillea. My lungs swell to hold the whole city, ten tons of purple smog, freeways reaching out like veins, like branches, like my hand stretching toward hers, waiting to see if she’ll reach back and take it.
She does.
I pull her up, brush the dust from her jeans, wipe her face with the bottom of my tank top. I pry the backpack from her grip and put it on her shoulders. Then I hold them hard and look into her face.
“Can you do it?” The sun stretches out between us, hot, sticking our shirts to our skins and our skins to each other.
She nods. “Yeah,” she says.
I wrap her hand in mine as we make our way down the other side of the hill, through the flowers she knows all the names of. “Tell me the names,” I tell her. “It’ll make you braver,” and she does. Agave, jimsonweed, jacaranda. Hibiscus, matilija poppy, phlox. Remembering the things she knows. Laurel sumac. Sage. She names them all as we skid down the steep dirt, keep each other from falling, past the heaped-up dangling jade plants, through the cactus and the thorns.
When we get to the asphalt she leads the way.
Fifty yards from the green-painted doorway I stop and turn to her, sweat and blood streaking my cheeks, and then pull her in, press my lips to her forehead, smooth like mine might’ve been some time I can only almost remember. I want to keep her here, with me, but more than that I want to keep her safe, and I know that those are two separate places, as close and far apart from one another as this sidewalk and that house. I spin her around, turn her back to me and push her forward, and she walks, pulling the key out of her pocket, and when she puts it in the lock and cracks the door my sick gets swallowed up by something bigger, and this place I’ve never been before feels more like home than anything I’ve ever known.
Almost Home
began as an entirely private pursuit, written bit by bit, in secret, between acting and playwriting jobs—simply because these kids took up residence in my head and heart and decided to stay. It could never have become an actual
book
without the help and support of many wonderful people.
I’d like to thank Margaret Cardillo, my fabulous editor, for taking a risk and helping bring these kids to life with such enormous enthusiasm, commitment, and skill; and Joe Veltre, my agent, for being thoroughly lovely to work with, and for guiding me through the process of getting my first novel out into the world with great insight, intelligence, and a reassuringly steady hand. Everyone at Hyperion has been a joy to work with; I am enormously grateful for all their expertise and support. I’d also like to thank several people who helped shepherd this book through various stages of its development: Greer Hendricks at Atria, for reading some of these stories in a very young form and doing me the enormous favor of helping them to find representation; Michelle Tessler, for believing in the stories early on and offering the invaluable suggestion that they should weave together into a novel; Les Plesko at UCLA, for bringing it into the present tense; Allison Heiny, for generously helping me to navigate the YA universe; and Sarah Self at Gersh, for seeing the possibilities in this story and helping it develop into whatever form it might take next.
Leslie Garis read the manuscript deeply and closely; her input and willingness to engage so fully were indispensable and inspiring. Natasha Blank—with her precocious intelligence and big heart—helped me stay true to these kids’ young yet wise voices; April Yvette Thompson provided her customary unfailing barometer of emotional truth. Nick Hallett and Casey Kait, my two oldest closest artist friends, have shaped this book and all the other work I’ve made in ways far too many to count. I’m so grateful to have had their brilliant, specific, and hilarious sensibilities around to inform, intertwine with, and influence mine for the last almost-fifteen years. Jason Helm, my writing soulmate and emotional twin, has guided, grounded, expanded, developed, and deepened these characters, their stories, and each and every sentence that helps tell them. I never knew I could share a language with someone the way I do with him; my process and work wouldn’t be what they are without his writing, his spirit, and his friendship.
I cannot say enough times how incredibly grateful I am to my parents, Art and Donna Blank. I feel so blessed to have been raised lovingly in a creative household by cool and interesting and conscious parents, and I owe the fact that I am even able to do things like write books in the first place largely to them. Thank you, Mom and Dad.
And finally, I want to thank my amazing husband, Erik Jensen. Making work with him taught me how to tell a story; living with him teaches me, every day, how to love. I am continually astonished that I get not only a hilarious, kind, inspiring best friend whom I’m madly in love with, but a brave, brilliant, and truth-telling artist who collaborates with me, supports me in my own work, is constantly spilling over with a gazillion ideas, and always helps me to do better. Thank you, Erik, for being my home.
The kids in
Almost Home
are fictional, but unfortunately, their situation isn’t. More than 1.5 million teens in America run away each year—joined by at least a million “throwaways,” kids who are kicked out or abandoned by their parents. Teens often wind up homeless after years of abuse, neglect, and/or family struggles with addiction; many bounce around in foster homes for years before winding up on the streets. And once they’re out there, they are incredibly vulnerable. If you’re homeless and a kid, it can be very difficult to do the things—like go to school and get a job—that will enable you to survive. Many homeless kids are too young to work a job legally, and often wind up being forced to sell drugs, or to exchange sex for food, clothes, or shelter.
Living on the streets is hard. Depression and post-traumatic stress disorder are three times as high among runaway youth; at least sixty percent of homeless kids are believed to be victims of serious physical or sexual abuse. Forty-one percent of teens on the street have been abandoned by their parents or guardians. Thirty-five to fifty percent of homeless youth identify as gay, lesbian, bisexual, or transgender; the vast majority of these kids have been kicked out of their homes just for being who they are.
There are dedicated people out there committed to helping homeless teens survive—but the problem is huge and resources are few. If this issue is something you care about, please consider volunteering at a shelter or drop-in center, or working to raise awareness about the struggles of homeless teens. Write to your representatives, or get active in your area.
And if you or someone you know is on the street or at risk, you’re not alone. Below are some resources for teens on the street or in crisis:*
NATIONAL:
National Safe Place Program:
Safe Place is a network of sites across America that provide immediate help and resources for all young people in crisis. To find a Safe Place in your area, go to
www.nationalsafeplace.org
or call 1-888-290-7233.
National Runaway Switchboard:
Operates a 24-hour crisis line at 1-800-RUNAWAY. Call if you are thinking of running away, or if you have a friend who has run and needs help. NRS also runs the HOME FREE program with Greyhound Bus Lines, providing free bus rides home to runaway youth who want to get home.
Runaway Hotline:
Runaway Hotline serves as a nationwide information and referral center for homeless youth needing food, shelter, medical assistance, counseling, and related services. 1-800-231-6946.
Covenant House:
Provides shelter and services to homeless youth in more than fifteen cities nationwide, and operates the Nineline, 1-800-999-9999, a 24-hour crisis line for youth. The Nineline provides crisis counseling and referrals from a database of over 30,000 shelters and organizations helping teens.
Children’s Rights of America:
Offers support and crisis counseling for runaways and other youth. 1-800-442-HOPE.
OTHER RESOURCES:
Childhelp USA:
A national, 24-hour toll-free hotline for child abuse. 1-800-4-A-CHILD.
The Trevor Project:
A 24-hour hotline for gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender teens in crisis. 1-866-4-U-Trevor.
Children of the Night:
Twenty-four-hour help for teenage prostitutes or kids involved in pornography; rescue from pimps, shelter referrals, court appearances, medical appointments, tickets home, birth certificates, and other assistance. Twenty-fourhour hotline: 1-800-551-1300.
www.childrenofthenight.org
LegalServices for Children:
Provides confidential legal and related social services to young people free of charge. Help with guardianship, education, mental health, and foster care issues. 415-863-3762.
Roaddawgz:
An educational and creative community by and for homeless youth, aimed at empowerment, mutual support, and community building.
www.roaddawgz.org
*This list is meant to serve as a resource, and not as an endorsement. All organizations listed herein are solely responsible for their own conduct and actions.
