One Day Soon (16 page)

Amanda frowned, apparently not pleased with my less than enthusiastic greeting. “I came to see how you were doing. I miss you.”

I let out a humorless bark of laughter. “How I’m doing? Well I’m still alive, so I guess that’s something.”

“Where did you get those clothes?” Amanda made a face, curling her lip in disgust. As if my outfit were the most important thing to address.

I ignored her comment. It was that or pull my hair out.

“What are you doing here? Did you come to hang out with the homeless kids? That sounds like a good night out,” I sneered.

“Wow, someone has been drinking the bitterly resentful Kool-Aid. I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” she snipped, flipping her long blonde hair over her shoulder and casting a look around. “I mean, what’s it like?” she whispered, seeming worried.

I sighed and sat down on a pile of crumpled cinder blocks, tucking my knees up under my chin. “It sucks,” I told her honestly, dropping the attitude.

Amanda hopped up beside me, bumping my shoulder with hers. “You haven’t been hurt or anything have you?” She chewed on her bottom lip and looked downright worried.

Not that I blamed her. The sun was starting to set and people were beginning to congregate in groups. Smoke filtered up into the sky, music played from stereos.

At first glance it looked like a party.

Once you peered closer you realized it was anything but.

This was a grasping, desperate existence.

“No. I haven’t been hurt. But I’m always scared I will be. The Pit—”

“The Pit?” Amanda interrupted, confused.

“It’s what everyone calls the warehouse on Summit,” I told her.

“Cheery name. I didn’t realize that’s what it was called,” Amanda muttered, pulling her skirt down self-consciously.

“You’ve never been inside, Mandy. If you had, you’d understand the name.” I picked at a piece of thread on my shirt. It was dirty and smelled like unwashed skin. I knew what I looked like without needing a mirror. I knew that there were dark circles under my eyes and my skin, which had always been clear, was riddled with dirt and pimples from not washing enough. My hair, which had always been a source of pride, was greasy and held back in a sloppy bun.

At one time I would never have been caught dead looking the way that I did. But now, it wasn’t even a concern.

“When was the last time you ate?” Amanda asked.

“I had stuff this morning. There’s this guy—”

“A guy? Oh is he cute?” Amanda’s face brightened in relief as she maneuvered the conversation into normal girl talk. She giggled and I rolled my eyes. Only my friend could focus on the totally shallow while discussing my being homeless.

“Yes, he’s cute, but that’s not the point,” I replied primly.

“Of course it’s the point. You may be homeless, but you still have your girlie parts,” Amanda pointed out.

“Anyway, his name is Yoss, and he’s sort of been helping me out. He watches out for me. Makes sure I eat. He got me some deodorant and toothpaste,” I explained.

“Nothing says
I’m hot for you
like toiletries. I get it,” Amanda teased. I felt myself getting frustrated, even though I knew it wasn’t fair. Amanda was only trying to be nice, but I couldn’t help but be annoyed by her ignorance.

“You
don’t
get it. He makes sure that no one messes with me. That first night someone would have hurt me. But he made sure nothing happened. He’s…well, he’s special.”

“Oh my god, Imogen. You can’t stay out here,” Amanda said, her hands wringing together. The momentary levity was long gone.

“I have nowhere else to go,” I reminded her, wishing it weren’t true.

“You could go home—”

“She hasn’t come looking for me, Mandy,” I said quietly. “I’ve been gone a month. Do you think she even cares that I’m gone?” It was a rhetorical question. I didn’t expect a response.

From the look on Amanda’s face, she knew the answer as well as I did.

“I saw her last week,” Amanda mentioned, watching the kids ride their skateboards up and down the ramp.

“You saw my mom?” I asked, hating how hopeful I sounded.

Amanda nodded, turning her attention back to me. “She was at the mall with whatshisface.”

“Adam,” I filled in.

“Yeah, the guy who is
way
too young and
way
too hot for her,” Amanda complained.

“What were they doing?” My voice sounded small.

Amanda hesitated.

“It’s okay. You can tell me,” I coaxed. I was pretty sure that whatever Amanda had to say wouldn’t hurt me anymore than I was already hurting.

I was wrong.

“They were buying a bunch of new clothes. Your mom was all dressed up. She looked good actually. Happy.”

Knife one to the gut.

“Oh. Okay,” I said slowly.

Amanda gave me a sympathetic look. “She saw me and said hello. She asked me what I was doing with my summer. I mentioned that I had spoken to you.”

I swallowed thickly, feeling ill. “What did she say?”

My friend put her hand on top of mine and squeezed. “She didn’t say anything. Didn’t bat an eyelash. Nothing. She carried on talking about some place Adam was taking her over the weekend. She fucking giggled, Imi.
Giggled!
It pissed me off so much that I wanted to slap her. But I figured I didn’t want to get arrested or anything so I just walked away before I could claw her eyes out.”

We were both quiet for a long time. I shouldn’t have been surprised by what Amanda told me. I
knew
my mother didn’t care. But the confirmation burned. It maimed. It tore me apart.

“I can talk to my dad again, tell him you need somewhere to stay. Maybe he’ll understand—”

“I don’t want to put you in that position, Mandy, but thanks. I’m fine out here.”

I didn’t believe me and I knew Amanda didn’t either.

“You can’t stay out here forever, though. What will you do when it gets cold? When it snows? What will you do when school starts in September?”

I felt agitated. She was asking all the questions I hadn’t dared think about. Not yet. I was simply trying to get through each day. The future seemed like some distant idea that was just out of reach.

“I don’t know,” I told her truthfully. I didn’t have the energy for lies.

“You can’t go to class looking like you picked your clothes from a dumpster,” Amanda said, crinkling her nose.

“Yeah, because what I’m wearing is my priority right now,” I spat out, annoyed again.

Amanda jerked back in surprise. “I didn’t mean—”

“Look, you came to see if I was okay, well I am. You don’t have to stick around down here. I know you have other things to do.” I wanted her to leave. She was making me think about things that were better left avoided.

Like my mother.

My questionable future.

I felt like I was spinning wildly out of control and I was in for a painful landing.

“Don’t go uber bitch.” Amanda pursed her lips.

“I can’t talk about all of that right now, okay? I can’t think about what my life will be like in two months.” My voice shook. “I think it’s best if you go. I’ll call you when I can, alright?”

Amanda looked torn. “I could speak to your mom,” she suggested and I felt myself getting angry.

“Don’t you dare talk to
her!
I don’t want her knowing anything about me!” I shouted. Shane and Di looked my way and I knew they were minutes away from coming over to find out what was going on.

“I won’t, okay. No need to bite my head off.” Amanda sniffled and I felt bad for yelling at her. I reached over and quickly squeezed her arm. I tried not to notice how she cringed at the sight of my dirty hands. My nails ragged, the once bright red polish now chipped.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized.

Amanda looked around again and grimaced. “I can’t believe I ever thought it was cool to hang out down here. It’s really kind of scary.”

“It’s not so bad once you get used to it,” I found myself saying, defending the only home I currently had.

Amanda got to her feet, wiping debris from her clothes. “Well, I’d better get going. You’ll call me?”

“Yeah. I’ll call you,” I said, though I wasn’t sure I would. The longer I was out here, the harder it was to hold onto the life I had before.

“Okay. Bye, Imi.” Amanda gave me a quick hug and then hurried off, stumbling in her ridiculous heels. A few of the guys called out to her. She ignored them, all but running up the embankment.

Seeing Amanda had been jarring. I felt depressed. Overwhelmed.

My mother didn’t care where I was. I had suspected it, but the confirmation was a blow. She was living her life as though I weren’t missing. It wouldn’t matter to her that I was living on the streets.

She just didn’t
care.

I brought my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around my legs, watching the sun dip lower and lower. The smell of smoke drifted on the breeze, music and laughter sounding so far away.

I stared out towards the river as the day disappeared. I felt dirty and sticky and I wished I could take a shower. I was starting to forget what it felt like to be clean.

I was lonely. But it wasn’t a new feeling. I realized I had always felt that way. Even when I was surrounded by friends. Even when my mother and I were in the same room.

My heart clinched painfully.

I wasn’t alone with Yoss.

For the first time in my sixteen years I felt as though someone genuinely cared about me. My needs came first. My comfort. My happiness. My safety.

I missed Yoss.

I hated when he was gone.

I hated even more where he went.

I tried not think about the things he was doing. Or with whom. Manny’s army of baby-faced hustlers was common knowledge. I noticed that he moved in on the youngest kids, making them feel wanted. Important. That was why Yoss had lied about my age. Manny knew that the youngest were the most desirable. Not only for the men he sold them to. But it was easier to take advantage of their youth.

He wasn’t the classic abusive pimp. He was much, much worse.

He was…
nice.

I had learned that Manny didn’t protect his kids with violence and fists. He wouldn’t have been able to do that. He wasn’t tough. He didn’t have muscles. He couldn’t fight.

Instead he used his charm. His affable demeanor. And he used the money he earned off the backs of the boys and girls he claimed to take care of.

He was the king of our sordid kingdom. No one messed with him because at some point, everyone needed what he could offer.

Food. Clothes. Drugs.

He had it all and he shared it with those that pleased him.

You didn’t cross Manny.

You either loved him or you were left out in the cold.

I wasn’t sure how long I sat there as the sun continued to set. Then I saw a familiar figure walking along the bank. He was coming from the direction of town, his head bent low, his shoulders slouched. He had his hands tucked into his jeans and he dragged his feet as he moved slowly towards the bridge. He moved stiffly, as though in pain.

My heart instantly leapt at the sight of him. And then it fell just as fast.

This is what broken looked like.

He was almost upon me before he finally looked up, finding me sitting there on my pile of crumpled rock, watching him.

“Hey,” he said softly and his voice sounded strange. Tight. Strangled.

“Hey,” I said back. I studied his face closely. His eyes were dull. His lips red and swollen. There was a cut on the side of his cheek that bled sluggishly.

“Can I join you?” he asked and I nodded.

I wanted to ask him if he was okay, but I knew he’d only tell me a lie.

And I couldn’t stomach his dishonesty.

“Why are you over here by yourself? Are you okay?” Yoss asked, sitting close, but not touching.

I wanted to tell him everything. About Amanda’s visit. About my mom. About how much I wanted to cry.

But I looked up into his face and I couldn’t.

Here was a boy barely holding himself together. He seemed as though he wanted to curl into himself. I wanted to shield him from everything horrible. Everything ugly.

Just as he had been trying to do for me.

Yossarian Frazier wasn’t an overly complicated person. He was smart. He was thoughtful. He was generous and kind. He was loyal to a fault.

And he was someone who had been forced to make choices that would shatter most people. I could see the fragments being chipped away little by little as he struggled to hold on.

Yet he still sat beside me, with concern on his face, wanting to know if
I
was all right. When it was obvious
he
wasn’t.