Sketches (10 page)

He started to walk toward the kitchen.

“Robert?”

He stopped and turned around.

“
The Sisters
,” I said. “I'm going to call it
The Sisters
.”

BETWEEN TALKING TO ROBERT
, having him show me how to do the fine work around the eyes, and then getting cleaned up, it was almost night by the time I got out of Sketches. I was late. I trotted along the street hoping that they'd still be there. What if they weren't?
Where would I go? How would I find them? Who would take care of me, and . . . ?

Brent was sitting on the edge of a fountain and Ashley was standing off to the side. She was panhandling, but it didn't look as though she was doing too well.

“Sorry I'm late,” I said as I settled in beside him.

“Now that you're here, we'd better get moving,” Brent said. He stood up right away and started walking. I was getting the feeling that he was in another of his dark moods.

“Where are we going?” I asked as Ashley and I trailed after him.

“You'll see.”

“We didn't think you were coming,” Ashley said.

“Not coming? Where else would I go?”

“I don't know, maybe you were planning on hanging out at that art centre place all night?” Brent said.

“Yeah, well, it would be cool to spend more time there.”

“There's nothing there that's going to make us money or give us a place to sleep tonight,” Brent snapped back.

“It's more than that!” I argued.

“Actually, it's less than that,” he said. “While you're fooling around in there, we're out here trying to get together enough cash to—”

“Give it a rest,” Ashley said, cutting him off.

“You could come along with me and see for yourself,” I suggested.

“Me?” Brent questioned incredulously. “I'm way too old to be doing any finger-painting.”

“It's not Kindergarten stuff! I did a really good painting today!” I protested.

“Well I'd like to see it,” Ashley said. “Maybe I'll come with you the next time you go.”

“Great.” Brent scowled. “Then I'll have to do the work of three people. Are you two planning on eating?”

“Actually, they have food at Sketches,” I said.

“They do?” Brent had been walking quickly, leading us down an alley, but now he stopped walking, turned around, and suddenly seemed interested. “Why didn't you tell me that before?”

“I did . . . sort of. Remember those muffins I brought you the other day?” After the first time, when I hadn't shared the food I'd gotten, I'd made a point of letting them have all the food I pocketed at Sketches.

“Is that where they came from?” he asked.

“Where did you think I got them?”

“I didn't think,” he said. “I figured you just ripped them off or something.”

“Yeah, that really sounds like Dana,” Ashley said sarcastically.

“So, if we go to this Sketches place they'll feed us?” Brent asked.

“Not feed you, but they usually have some food. At least muffins and bagels and juice and milk.”

“Those weren't even good muffins,” he grumbled.

“They weren't bad,” Ashley said.

“So I'm walking all the way there for a day old muffin?”

“And juice and milk,” I added, a bit weakly.

“Oh, great, that makes it better, milk and muffins. I'll pass.” He started walking again.

“Come on, Brent, would it kill you to drop in one afternoon and have a look?” Ashley demanded.

“It wouldn't kill me, but it ain't gonna help me either. I'll just—”

Suddenly two guys jumped out from behind a dumpster and smashed into Brent, sending him tumbling into the wall! Before he could react or even fall over they grabbed him by both arms and pinned him against the bricks!

Ashley rushed to his defence. “Hey, what do you think you're—?”

A third guy jumped out of a doorway on the other side of the alley and pushed her from behind and she toppled forward, hitting the wall and then crumpling to the pavement! Before I could even think to react I was grabbed by both arms—a guy was holding me on one side and a girl on the other. They were both about my age . . . they were all about our age.

“Don't even think about fighting!” the girl yelled.

I wasn't thinking about anything—I just felt fear, terror—all I wanted to do was run, but there was no point in even trying. The two sets of powerful hands held me between them, and I was powerless to resist.

Ashley started to struggle to her feet, and the guy who'd knocked her down stepped forward again and kicked her in the ribs! She groaned and then gasped as the air rushed out of her lungs and she collapsed back to the ground.

“Leave her alone!” Brent screamed.

Now the guy who'd kicked Ashley rushed over and punched Brent in the face as he stood there, pinned against the wall! Brent's nose exploded and blood started pouring down his face.

“Brent!” I yelled.

The guy spun around to face me, and his look of rage made my blood freeze.

“Do you want some of this?” he yelled, waving his fist in my face.

I shook my head slightly, unable to speak.

“Not a sound from you,” he snarled.

I started to sob, tears just flying out of my eyes.

“No crying!” he shouted. “You cry and I'll give you something to cry about!”

He stepped forward and I closed my eyes and turned my head away, waiting for the punch to come. Instead I felt his hands grab my face, and my eyes popped open. He moved in close, pushing his face right into mine so
close that I was overwhelmed by his stale, awful breath. I bit down on the inside of my cheek to try to stifle my tears.

“That's better,” he said. A smile—an awful, evil smile—came to his lips. “You ain't half bad-looking. A little dirty maybe, but not bad.” He released his grip on my face . . . thank goodness. But then he reached down and grabbed my breasts! I struggled to get away but I was held in place on both sides and he pressed against me.

“Leave her alone!” Brent screamed.

The guy spun around, but released me. “You need more medicine?”

“You can have our money,” Brent said, blood pouring down his face, his shirt all wet and stained.

“We can have your money and anything else we want!”

“Take our money and go before the police come. You don't think that anybody's noticed what's happening? Look!”

I turned toward where Brent was motioning with his chin. There were people on the street. A steady stream of them passed by the opening to the alley. As I looked, a man slowed and peered into the shadows.

“Just take the money,” Brent said. “Let me go and I'll give it to you.”

“Nobody's letting anybody go. Where is it?” he demanded.

“In my pocket. Right front pants pocket.”

He stuck his hand into Brent's pocket and pulled it inside out, coins popping out into the air and showering down on the pavement. He opened his hand to reveal more coins and some bills and a plastic bag . . . a plastic bag holding marijuana! When had he bought that?

“Looky what we got here,” he said, holding the bag up. “Some money and a little bonus.”

“Just take it and go,” Brent said.

“Is this all you got?” he demanded.

“That's all we got . . . I swear,” Brent said.

“And the girls? Do they have any money?”

“None,” Brent said. “I don't let them have money. I keep it all so that it'll be safe.”

The guy laughed. His laugh was as evil as his smile. “Yeah, you kept it
real
safe,” he snarled. He turned around, and I was terrified he was going to come back toward me. “Now if either of you girls decide you want to be
really
safe you can stop hanging out with this loser and come with me. Let her go,” he ordered, and the two released my arms. “Who knows, maybe I could even figure out a way for you two ladies to make some serious coin, if you know what I mean.” That sick smile returned to his face. I noticed he was missing a front tooth and the remaining teeth were yellow and stained.

“You got the money. Now leave us alone,” Brent said.

Just then someone stopped at the entrance to the alley. It looked as though he was taking a long, hard look, maybe thinking about coming to see what the noise was all about.

“Yeah, you're right,” the guy said. “Let him go, too.”

The two other guys released Brent and he slumped forward. The first guy started to walk away down the alley, away from the street. I felt a sense of relief, and—

He turned back suddenly and kicked Brent in the side of the head, and Brent bounced against the wall and then crumpled to the ground!

“Don't you go telling me what to do or when to leave, you understand!” he bellowed. “And you better remember that, faggot, for the next time we meet!”

He took off again, and the other four trailed behind him, laughing and joking as they walked. I stood motionless, watching them go, terrified they might turn back around. Suddenly my feet became unstuck from the pavement and I had to fight the urge to just run away. I couldn't do that. Instead I rushed over to Ashley and helped her as she staggered to her feet. She cringed in pain and clutched her side.

“Ashley, are you all right?” I gasped.

“I'm . . I'm okay . . . Brent?” she called out.

He started to struggle to his feet and then tumbled back over. We rushed over. He took my hand and used it to pull himself up. Blood still poured from his nose,
and now the whole side of his face was scraped and cut and raw.

“You're hurt bad!”

“Not as bad as I'm going to hurt him,” he snarled. Brent reached down and pulled his knife out of his sock.

“What are you doing?” I demanded.

“I'm going to get our money back.” He started to walk in the direction they'd gone, stumbling over his feet and practically tumbling over again. I caught up to him and grabbed him on one side. Ashley grabbed his other arm.

“All you're going to do is let him finish killing you,” Ashley said. “You're too hurt to go after him, and I'm too hurt to help you.”

“We can't just let him do that to us!” Brent snapped.

“We won't,” Ashley said. “We won't let him get away with anything. We just need to let it go for now.”

Brent stopped straining against us and I could feel him relax. Ashley let go of his arm and I did the same.

“You know when he said to remember him?” Brent asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Both Ashley and I nodded. I didn't think I'd ever forget him.

“I'll remember him,” Brent said. “And maybe not today, or tomorrow, but sooner or later it'll happen.”

“That's right,” Ashley said. “Now let's just go and get cleaned up and find someplace to stay tonight.”

“Shouldn't we go to the hospital?” I asked. “Why?” Brent asked.

“Your nose, and Ashley's ribs . . . you two are hurt!” I exclaimed.

“I just need to lie down,” Ashley said.

“Me too. Let me get cleaned up first and then just lie down . . . I feel a little bit dizzy.” Brent staggered a bit and Ashley and I both grabbed him again to steady him on his feet.

“I know a place where we can crash for the night,” Brent said. “It's not far from here. We'll just cut down the alley and—”

“You want us to go down the alley?” I said.

“It's shorter that way.”

“But
they
went down the alley.”

“They're long gone,” Brent pointed out. “Probably using our money to buy some chemicals.”

“I just don't think we should go that way,” I protested.

“It'll be okay,” Brent said. “Come on.”

He started walking, with Ashley still supporting him. I hesitated for a few seconds and then started after them. I didn't want to go, but I couldn't stay there by myself. Cautiously we moved. I strained to look up ahead, trying to see behind every dumpster and trash can, and into the depressions of the doors and the shadows cast by the buildings. I couldn't see anybody, but then again I didn't see those kids either.

We reached the end of the alley and Brent directed us through a hole in a fence where three boards were missing. He went through first, followed by Ashley and then me. We were standing in a parking lot. The pavement was all buckled and there were weeds growing in the cracks. There was a shed sitting behind a building and trash bags and furniture all around it. As we closed in I realized it was a clothing drop box and there was a big sign on the building: “Salvation Army.” We stopped beside the drop box.

“Here we are,” Brent said. “This is where we're going to sleep tonight.”

“We're going to sleep in the Salvation Army shelter?” I asked. We'd never done that before. Shelters asked for ID and I didn't have any and—

“Not in the Salvation Army shelter,” he said. “In the shelter of the Salvation Army clothing drop box.”

“We're going to what?”

“We're going to sleep in the box.” He pointed at the gigantic wood-and-metal box where people dropped off clothes and things for the Salvation Army to sell.

He reached over and pulled open the big drawer-like slot. It was a large opening—big enough to take a green garbage bag filled with clothes. I'd gone with my mother before to put some of our old clothes in a box just like this one where we live . . . where
they
live.

“Give me a boost,” Ashley said.

Brent bent down and cupped his hands together, and Ashley put her foot into his hands, using them as a step. She climbed up into the slot and disappeared from sight. Her head reappeared a couple of seconds later.

“There's enough space for all of us,” she said.

“Is there anything for us to sleep on in there?” Brent asked.