Forgotten: Seventeen and Homeless (12 page)

I remember the library isn't too far away, and I decide to go there to do my homework. I just hope I don't see anyone I know because I'm still wearing a work outfit (my mom's old clothes) and I'm badly in need of a shower. I grab my backpack, and as I'm going into the library, I remember the girl in the bathroom -the homeless girl.

That girl is now me.

In the library, I go straight to the bathroom where, feeling the full humiliation of being homeless, I clean up as best I can in a sink. Then I use a stall to change my clothes. I only do this because I'm worried I might run into someone I know, and I can't bear the idea of being seen in my work outfit. Then I brush out my hair and find a table in a corner where I start doing homework. The library closes at nine so I have just a little more than an hour to finish up.

"Hey, Adele." I nervously look up to see Lindsey Nelson from my art class, wheeling a book cart toward me. "What are you doing here?" she asks in a friendly tone.

"Homework." I force a small smile. "That's a lot of books. Are you checking them all out?"

She chuckles. "No, I'm a student aide here."

"A student aide?"

"Yeah, I volunteer."

"That's nice of you."

She shrugs. "It's not as nice as it seems. My mom's the head librarian, and she promised me a trip to Europe after graduation if I put in a whole year as a student aide."

"That's cool." I nod like it's just a normal thing-a mom who gives her daughter a European vacation like that . . . big deal. But inwardly I'm seething with envy. Why didn't I get a mom like that?

"So I'll let you get back to your homework." She picks up a book from her cart, checking its spine. "I need to reshelve these."

"Later." I turn my focus back to calculus, but all I can think about is how unfair life is. Totally and irrevocably unfair.

Despite a restless night, I wake up early. Sleeping in a van will take some getting used to. My plan is to drive to school, where I will slip into the locker room, grab a quick shower, and get dressed and put together in time for my first class. My biggest concern will be running into someone I know, although that seems unlikely since none of my girlfriends frequent the girls' locker room. But just in case, I've already fabricated a story. I'll just say the water was turned off in our condo or something to that effect. I have a feeling it's not as much what I say, but how I say it that matters. I must manufacture confidence.

Fortunately I don't see anyone I know and I have safely deposited my bulging backpack into my locker just as Isabella calls out my name.

"Where have you been, Adele? I've been worried sick about you.

"What do you mean?"

"I called and called, and your phone's not working. I stopped to pick you up for school this morning, and you weren't in the parking lot." She has a stricken look. "Is it your mom? Did she get worse? Is she in the hospital or something?"

Okay, I know this is crazy, but I just go with it. Nodding and trying to look seriously worried, I tell Isabella that my mom really has gotten worse. "It's turned into pneumonia."

Her hand flies to her mouth. "Oh no."

"Yes. Very serious."

"I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do?"

I shake my head. "No, it's just that I have to spend a lot of time with her, and I'm a little stressed. And I guess she forgot to pay the cell phone bill, you know, because she's been so sick." I sigh. "Life is a mess."

Isabella hugs me. "I'm so sorry, Adele. That's just horrible. Well, if there's anything I can do, just tell me. You know I'm here for you."

"Thanks." I release a shaky-looking smile.

She pats me on the back. "That's what friends are for."

"I really appreciate it. I guess I should get to class."

As we part ways, I'm thinking this "mom in the hospital" story could really work for me. It will explain why no one is home, why I'm a little rattled, or why I might do something like grab a shower at school. Naturally, after spending the night by my nearly dead mother's side, I don't have time to run home and do it. Okay, I know it's lame, but I think maybe I can pull it off. What choice do I have?

By lunchtime, all of my friends have heard the "news" that my mom is "at death's door." And everyone is extremely kind and surprisingly thoughtful. Even Bristol is being unusually nice. It's hard not to like this.

"Do you need a ride over to visit your mom?" Isabella asks.

"No, I'm using her car now," I lie.

"Oh right." She nods. "How about your phone? How do you call her?"

"She's in bad shape, so she can't really answer the phone," I lie some more. "But I just used the pay phone to check with the hospital."

"And how was she?" Jayden asks with concern.

"The same." I sigh for drama.

"What about the homecoming dance?" Isabella asks. "Please tell us this doesn't mean you can't go."

I look sadly at Jayden. "I'm not sure."

"Hey, no problem," he tells me.

"I really want to go, but it's hard to say."

"Don't worry," he assures me, "we'll just play it by ear ... see how it goes. I understand, Adele."

"I appreciate that."

"But if your mom gets better?" Isabella looks hopeful. "You'll go to the dance then, right?"

"Of course."

"But what about your dress?" Isabella's brow creases. "I'm guessing you couldn't get one with everything that's going on with your mom."

"No, I just haven't had time." I frown and wonder just how deep I'll have to get into this ... before I get buried alive.

"Don't be pestering Adele about dresses," Jayden tells Isabella. "I'm sure that's the least of her worries right now."

"That's true," I tell him. And I am so not lying about this. Yet this attention and concern from my friends feels strangely good. Like I could get used to this. I even toy with the idea of letting my mom "die" in the hospital. Okay, that's pretty extreme. Even for me. But it's tempting.

By the end of the day, I come up with an even better plan. I will have my mother get a little better in the hospital, but she'll be too ill to come home. So by the end of the week, I'll have her sent to a nursing-care facility to recuperate. There she will lie low until I can figure out some other kind of long-term answer . . . or until she comes home. That is, if she's coming home. And more and more, I suspect she's not.

In the meantime, I'll see how much money I can get for some of the stuff in the van. Not only will it make more room, but it might finance a way for me to go to the homecoming dance. Because I am going. I deserve to go! And I just need to accept there is no such thing as a fairy godmother. No one is going to come to my rescue-nobody besides me. This Cinderella will create her own magic.

After school I'm about to rush off-partly to make a getaway in Darth Vader without being observed and partly because I have "business" to take care of-when Isabella stops me.

"What's your hurry?"

"I need to get to the hospital and check on Mom."

"Which hospital is it?" Lily asks.

"Yeah," Isabella says, "we want to send her some flowers."

"Uh . . . I can't remember the name offhand." I pause, trying to think of an answer. "I mean, everything happened so fast with my mom, and I'm still trying to figure out this town and-"

"Well, it's either Saint Andrews or-"

"Oh, yeah." I suddenly remember something I saw in the nursing home. "I totally forgot. My mom can't even have flowers. It has to do with the pollen or germs or something. But there's a sign on her door that says No Flowers. Thanks anyway, and I'll tell her you guys were thinking of her." I glance at my watch. "I really need to run now."

They're still standing around talking as I hurry away. I want to get to Darth Vader without having to explain why I'm driving this big, ugly van instead of my mom's car. Although I'm already working on a story to explain that one, too. My life, like a house of cards, seems to be fabricated of flimsy lies these days. I just hope no big wind comes along to blow it all down. Or that I don't get my stories mixed up. I'm actually thinking about writing down all my lies in the back of my notebook just to help me keep track of them.

On my way to work, I swing by the pawn shop I noticed when I was driving to the library last night. I park in back, then go inside to see a short bald man hunched over behind the counter; he's reading a gun magazine.

"Excuse me, I-uh-I've never done this before so I'm not really sure of the protocol."

He looks up over his reading glasses and chuckles. "Protocol?"

"I have some items I need to sell. Do I just bring them in here or what?"

He frowns. "What kind of items?"

So I tell him about the TV, DVD player, and some of the other things. "They're all pretty new."

"Why are you selling them?" He peers curiously at me, almost like he's suspicious. "You know we have cops coming in here regularly. So if they're stolen goods, you'll be-"

"No, no," I say quickly. "I swear to you they're not stolen." And then I decide to tell him the truth. Or mostly. I explain how my mom ran out on me and how the rent was overdue. "And I got evicted. So I'm working part time at River Woods Care Center, and I'm trying to scrape up enough money to find another place to live ... so I can stay in school." Then just in case he's concerned about my age, I add, "It's my first year in community college, and I really don't want to lose my credits."

He nods. "Yeah, that's tough. My parents weren't much good either." He folds his newspaper closed. "Well, go ahead and bring it on in here. If it's as new as you say, I'm sure I'll be interested."

So I make several trips, carrying in the TV, small kitchen appliances, lamps, and everything. Even though he doesn't give me close to what I know my mom paid for all that junk, I do end up $360 richer. "Thank you," I tell him.

"And you stay in school," he says with a wink.

I nod eagerly. "Don't worry, I plan to. Now I better hurry if I want to make it to work on time. Thanks again!"

As I drive to work, I'm surprised at how good it felt just then to tell the truth. Or mostly the truth. This house of lies I'm building is a scary thing ... and I'm sure in time it will cave in on me.

enevieve, a nurse's aide at River Woods, is the only person there even close to my age. As a result, she and I sometimes take our break together. She's fun and laid back and good for a few laughs. Plus she's really good with old people. I know she has an apartment not far from work, and I had even hoped I might rent a room from her. But during our evening break, she confides that her boyfriend is moving in with her this week.