Forgotten: Seventeen and Homeless (21 page)

"So, where then?"

"I have a few friends. I do some couch surfing."

"Oh."

"How about you?" She peers closely at me like she's really curious. "Who are your friends now that the rich witch girls have dumped you?"

I consider this. I might be homeless, but I still have my pride. I'm not about to admit I don't have friends. "I have friends I hang with at work," I say with mock confidence.

"You have a job?"

"I do. And I'm saving up enough to get a place of my own too.

She actually seems impressed by this. "Cool."

Now I feel my guard dropping a little. "But it's still kind of lonely."

She nods. "I know."

The door opens and a librarian sticks her head in the bathroom. "Closing time, ladies."

"Yeah, yeah," Cybil says. "We're outta here."

Soon Cybil and I are outside, and I'm not really sure what to say. "It was cool meeting you," I tell her as we go down the stairs.

"Yeah. You too."

"So, where do you go from here?" I ask out of pure curiosity.

She jerks her thumb over her shoulder. "I have a friend with an apartment over on Third Avenue. He'll let me crash there tonight."

"Do you need a ride?"

She looks shocked. "Seriously? Do you have a car?"

"Yeah." I point to the black van and the only vehicle left in the patron section of the parking lot.

"Cool." She nods eagerly. "Sure, I'd love a ride."

"It's kind of an ugly van," I admit as we get inside. "I call it Darth Vader."

She laughs. "Fitting name." She looks into the back. "Do you live here?"

"Pretty much."

"Very cool!"

"And kind of cold, too," I confess as I start the engine. "But I bundle up and I have a lot of bedding, so it's not too bad. Hopefully it won't be for too much longer."

She directs me to a run-down apartment complex, then invites me to come up and meet her friend. Curious as to what kind of place this might be and what the rent would run, I accept her offer. But when I see the dump of an apartment and several seedy-looking older guys sitting around drinking, I decide to cut my visit short.

"Don't go yet," a guy named Tony tells me. "You just got here."

"I know." I force a smile. "But I have to work in the morning."

"A working girl, eh?" says a guy who looks to be around thirty.

"Come on," urges Tony. "Stick around and have a beer."

"Thanks anyway. But I really need to go. Maybe another time."

"Okay." He nods like I just made a date with him. "I'm holding you to that!"

I tell Cybil good-bye then, relieved to get away, and hurry back to the van. Maybe Cybil's friends are okay. Or maybe they're not. I really don't want to find out. For the most part they remind me of a younger version of some of the guys my mom hooked up with over the years. Losers.

Cybil actually seems to have more going for her than those dudes in the cruddy apartment. In fact, it makes me wonder why she'd settle for that. Except that she is homeless. And, like me, her options are limited.

alloween isn't until Friday, but it seems that I picked the one night the library is celebrating to do my homework here. Fortunately, story hour (complete with a witch) is over, and the place quiets back down into what I expect a library to be. I'm just settling back into my history when Cybil joins me.

"Hey." She plops down in an easy chair across from me. "How's it going?"

"Okay." I set my book down. "How about you?"

"I've had better days."

"Meaning?"

She rubs her stomach. "I'm starving."

Now this statement coming from some people is just an exaggeration. But from a homeless person, well, it gets my attention. And since I worked today, I've had plenty to eat. So naturally, I feel bad for her. "I can loan you a couple of bucks," I offer, knowing full well this will crunch my lunch budget tomorrow.

She brightens. "Cool." Then her smile fades. "Except I don't know when I can pay you back."

I wave my hand. "It's okay."

"I was going to do some panhandling at the grocery store down the street, but a cop came along and I zipped over here."

"Can you get arrested for panhandling?"

"It's illegal in our town."

"Oh . . ." I nod as I dig a couple bucks and some loose change from my purse. "Good to know."

"Yeah. The cops don't do much besides take your information -and I always lie about where I live. I give them my aunt's old address, and they don't seem to know the difference since it's a rental house anyway. Mostly they just try to scare you off the streets."

I hand her the cash. "How many times have you been picked up for panhandling anyway?"

"Just a couple. I know to be more careful now." She tucks the money into her coat pocket. "Thanks."

"So, where are you staying tonight?"

She shrugs. "I don't know."

I want to question her about her low-life guy friends in the sleazy apartment, but it's not really my business. Still, I'd like to warn her to be careful. "How old are you anyway?"

"Almost sixteen."

I try not to look shocked. "So . . . what year are you in school?"

"Sophomore."

"Oh ...,,

"Yeah, I know what you're thinking."

"What?"

"How am I going to do it? Make it through almost three years of high school while living on the streets."

"Hey, I'm pretty concerned about just making it through the next seven months so I can graduate and get out of this town."

"Yeah, well, maybe I won't graduate."

"You'd drop out?"

"I could get my GED," Cybil says.

"And then what?"

"A job ... or get married."

"But you're so young."

"Age is just a number, Adele."

"I know . . ." And for no explainable or rational reason, I start to feel almost big sisterly toward Cybil just now. "But quitting high school ... to work or to get married ... it just doesn't seem like a good plan."

She looks exasperated. "It's not like I planned all this."

"I know." I nod. "Neither did I. My mom just took off, and I'm trying to make the best of it."

"Your mom ditched you, too?"

"Is that what happened to you?"

"Kind of." She scowls. "First my mom took off and I ended up with my grandma. That was back when I was just starting middle school. But when I broke a few of Granny's silly little rules, she got fed up and dumped me on my aunt. That was okay for a while, but last summer, my aunt went back to her ex and told me to go home to Granny." She shakes her head. "No way was I doing that."

"But you could, if you wanted?"

She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, and I could be locked up in juvy too. Same difference."

"Have you ever been in foster care?" I ask quietly.

She nods. "When my mom ditched me with the neighbors, supposedly for the weekend, but she never came back. They called Children's Services and I ended up in the foster-care home from hell."

I actually laugh. "Hey, I was in that one too."

Cybil's eyes get wide. "Were you sexually abused?"

I shake my head. "No ... I mean ... you know, almost. How about you?"

She just nods.

"Sorry."

She shrugs. "Hey, at least it got me out of there when I reported it to my social worker. That's when I got sent to Granny's house. Unfortunately, Granny never liked kids. Guess that's what went wrong with my mom and my aunt."

We continue to talk, and I'm surprised at how many similarities there are to our stories. Maybe that's how it is for a lot of kids. I guess I never really thought about it much, or I assumed I was all alone in this madness.

"Sometimes I feel like I'm just this worthless piece of garbage," Cybil says sadly, "like no one wanted me in the first place and no one wants me now. People get uncomfortable when they see me coming; they look the other way."

"I know what you mean. That's how I've been feeling lately." Admitting this isn't easy. "It's like everyone is treating me like a pariah."

"What's that?"

"Pariah?" I shrug. "You know ... something to be avoided. An outcast."

"You really are smart, aren't you?"

I attempt a laugh. "I wasn't too smart in my choice of friends. That's obvious by the way they're treating me now."

"But that's how you used to treat me."

"What?"

"Remember the first time you saw me in the bathroom and you stepped away from me like you thought I was contagious? Like you were worried you might catch something from me?"

"Sorry."

"Hey, I am used to it." She pushes a strand of dishwater blond hair behind an ear. "But look, you're in the same boat now.

I nod. "It's weird. I got a feeling that day, or maybe it was a premonition, but it's like I knew deep inside of me that I wasn't much different than you. But I was trying to pretend ..."

"Don't you think that's what everyone does ... just tries to pretend? Like the snooty kids you used to hang with. I mean, think about it, if their parents ditched them, they'd be in the same place we are right now. How would they feel then?"

"Good point." I smile at her. "You know, Cybil, you seem like an intelligent person. I don't know why you'd even consider dropping out of school."

"Other than the fact I might have no choice."

"Of course you have a choice." I pause to think. "What if you got a part-time job?"

She frowns. "Yeah right. What would be the point?"

"The point would be that if you had some income, you and I could get an apartment together-we wouldn't be homeless anymore.

"Really?" Her whole face lights up now. "You'd consider doing that with me?"

"Why not? Like you said, we're in the same boat. Why not help each other row for the shore?"

Now her smile fades. "But who would hire me?"

"Lots of people." I tell her about my unusual employment history, which began when I was a lot younger than her. I explain how she can get a food handlers card and make a resume and all sorts of things. "I could even help you with your resume, and we could print it out right here on one of the library computers."

"That would be cool. When do we start?"

I glance at the big clock over the reception desk. "Not tonight; it's almost closing time." I start to put my books back into my bag.