by Paige Dearth
“Okay. We only got to do the base of your neck. Lean forward and lower your head.”
Albany pushed Joon’s hair over, starting on the right side of her head. She paused, gently running her fingers along a thick, ugly scar in the child’s hairline that ran from behind her ear to the nape of her neck.
“Girl, where did you get this nasty scar?”
Joon just closed her eyes. “My foster mom.”
“How?” Albany asked, trying to remain calm.
Joon let out a loud breath. “One time, I didn’t vacuum the carpet right. The lines from the sweeper had to be perfect, but one of the lines crossed into another line, and Aron grabbed an old curtain rod she kept in the closet to whip me with. When I saw her coming, I curled into a ball, and she laid into me. She hit me until she almost collapsed on the floor next to me. I had lumps and bruises all over the place. Then I noticed that I was bleeding from my head. When Aron saw the blood, she dragged me by my feet into the kitchen, so I didn’t bleed on her carpet. When it wouldn’t stop, she was really mad, so she got her sewing kit and pulled the skin together real tight and sewed it back together.”
“Dear Lord,” Albany gasped, forgetting herself for a moment and letting her emotions get the better of her.
Joon continued. “I got punished again for screaming when she was sewing my skin back together. It hurt so bad, but every time I yelled, she punched me and told me to shut up. I started begging her to take me to the hospital to get it fixed. That got her really pissed off. She said she wasn’t going to pay a dime for anyone to fix my cracked skull because I wasn’t worth it. And, that I was already stupid and it wouldn’t matter.”
Albany was incensed and disgusted by the story. All the kids living on the streets had a story, but she wasn’t immune to cruelty. Albany lifted Joon’s shoulders and sat her upright in the chair. “You’ve been through a lot for a kid. I want you to know that you can come and see me anytime. You hear?”
“Thank you,” Joon muttered.
“All right, now let’s finish up.”
Joon bent over again, and Albany, mesmerized by the scar that was an inch thick and rose up like a bulging vein below the skin’s surface, imagined the pain and suffering the girl withstood to have the wound sewn back together.
When she was finished, Joon stood and faced the woman. “You’re a good kid. You remember that not all people are bad. Your foster mom, she’s a real monster, but there are good people in the world. You use this,” Albany said, putting her hand on Joon’s stomach. “This will always tell you if you’re facing good or evil. Sometimes, we get fooled for a while and think we’re with good people, but then if your belly feels different, then you know you’re dealing with trouble and you get away as quick as you can.”
Joon smiled, thinking of Ragtop. “My sort of mom told me that once. She was homeless too. She took care of me when I first got to the city.” Joon wrapped her arms around Albany’s waist. “I’ll come back and see you again.”
“Good,” Albany said, then turned to Quinn. “This is a special girl here. You best take good care of her and don’t let me hear nothing different. I’m as badass as you are. I don’t care that you’re younger. I spent fifteen years on the streets.”
“Don’t worry so much, Albany. I got this.” Quinn kissed the older woman’s cheek. “Thanks for your help.”
As Joon and Quinn left the shelter, she turned to the older boy. “Where are we going now?”
“I have some work to do for Pug. You can come along.”
Quinn grabbed Joon’s hand as they headed down Market Street to sneak onto the train that would take them into North Philadelphia.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Joon followed Quinn off of the train when they arrived in North Philadelphia, and they walked awhile until they reached North Water Street. Quinn grabbed Joon’s hand as they stood facing a brick row home that had been painted dark brown. The paint was chipped away, exposing the brick in random places. Next to the house was a lot filled with rejected household items, trash, wood, and broken tables and chairs. The house was two stories high. The black-shingled awning across the front of the home was detaching from the brick. Joon looked up. Some windows were boarded up with plywood, and others were gone, leaving large, gaping holes in the building. A porch ran the length of the house. Joon followed Quinn as he stepped over the missing floorboards of the porch.
Joon’s skin prickled—she knew she was in dangerous territory.
Quinn looked in through the ripped screen door. One of the older guys inside noticed him and yelled, “What’s up, Quinn?”
“Hey, Blast. I’m here for Pug. Is he home?”
Blast took a sip of beer and gestured for Quinn to come inside.
Quinn hesitated. “I got my girl with me. Is it okay to bring her in?”
Before Blast could answer, Goldie, the main girl blurted, “Sure, bring your bitch in so we can see her.”
Quinn turned to Joon. “Just be cool. Everything’s fine.”
Joon’s heart strummed rapidly, but she nodded as she took in the neighborhood; she didn’t want to stay out on the porch by herself.
Inside, teenage boys and girls were sitting around a darkened living room. The once-white walls were streaked with water stains, and the long wall to the right was covered in graffiti. In the middle was the word SLAYERS, and the artwork around it included blood, knives, guns, and faces with mouths that had pointy teeth. The room fell silent as they all stared at Joon.
“Pug!” Blast yelled.
Quinn looked around the room. All eyes were on the couple as they waited for Pug, who finally appeared and stopped halfway down the steps. He looked at Quinn, then at Joon, and grinned. “Why don’t you two come upstairs?”
Quinn took Joon’s hand and pulled her toward the steps. Right behind them, a couple of the other boys followed. When they got inside Pug’s bedroom, he nodded to Joon to sit down on a ripped beanbag chair in the corner.
“So you have a new girl,” Pug said to Quinn.
Quinn nodded proudly as some of the other guys collected at the doorway. “Yeah, we…you know…met on the streets. This is Joon.”
Joon glanced up at them but didn’t smile. The group was standing around her. One boy squatted in front of her.
“You’re pretty,” he said in a slimy tone as he brushed the hair away from her face.
Joon shrank back, but the boy got closer.
“Come on, man. Leave her alone,” Quinn said, glancing at Pug.
Pug snickered. “You thought you’d bring this sweet thing to our house and we would all ignore her?”
“Well, you all got a good look at her. Here’s the money from the last run. Just give me some more shit and we’ll get out of here.”
“Not so fast,” a boy named Snake Eyes said. He got on the beanbag next to Joon and put his arm around her. Joon pushed him away as he kissed her neck. “You know who we are?”
Joon shook her head.
“We’re a gang. The Slayers. We run these streets. Maybe you want to come and stay with us for a while.”
Joon’s blood went cold and she shivered. Her eyes darted around the room, as if looking for an escape. Regret for following Quinn to the house raged through her, and she took several deep breaths to try to calm herself.
“I just want to leave. We have to go.”
“Aw, come on, Joooooon. We just want to get to know you better. Ain’t no harm in that, now is there?”
Joon made eye contact with Quinn. “I want to go,” she said in a weak voice.
Quinn moved toward Joon, but one of the other boys blocked his way and Quinn stopped. Three of the other guys moved onto the floor and touched Joon’s arms and torso. The girl’s breathing became labored. She took long, uncontrollable breaths. Then Snake Eyes put his mouth over hers. When she tried to move away, the other boys held her down while Snake Eyes lifted her shirt and unbuttoned her jeans. Joon arched her back and jerked from side to side to break free. Snake Eyes
slapped her across the face, dazing her briefly, but she shook it off and screamed for help.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Just as Joon felt her chance of escape slipping away, a handsome boy with thick, brown hair and green eyes charged through the bedroom door. He was taller than the others and his chest and arm muscles bulged under his shirt. “What the fuck is going on?”
“Get the fuck outta here, Bruno!” Pug yelled.
“I don’t think so. Leave her the hell alone,” Tony Bruno yelled back.
That’s when Blast stepped into the room. “Come on. Get the fuck off of her.” He was an older and respected member of the Slayers, and he spoke with authority. The boys backed away one by one.
Tony stepped forward and extended his hand to Joon. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here.”
Outside on the porch, he turned to her. “I’m Tony. This ain’t a good place for you to be. As soon as your stupid ass boyfriend gets done, he needs to get you outta here.”
Joon nodded, trying to slow her pulse and stabilize her weak legs. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I just came here with Quinn.”
Tony’s warm green eyes met Joon’s. “How old are you?”
“Thirteen.”
“I’m fourteen. You live on the streets?”
“Yeah. Ran away a while ago. I don’t have anywhere to go,” Joon admitted.
“Yeah, I get that. I was homeless for a while. Then”—he lowered his voice to barely a whisper—“I met these assholes and came to live here.”
“Why do you stay here if you think they’re assholes?”
Tony shrugged his shoulders. “I guess it’s better than livin’ on the streets. I was scared, and once I got into the Slayers, it was too late for me to go back out on my own. A couple of the guys that live here are decent. Like Blast, the one that came into the room after me—he’s a good guy. So it ain’t all that bad.”
“Those guys would’ve really hurt me if you didn’t come in there, huh?”
Tony pushed his brown hair from his eyes. “Yeah, they would’ve hurt ya real bad. You’re a pretty girl, and I suggest you don’t come anywhere near here again. And another thing: your boyfriend ain’t too smart for bringing ya here. He should’ve known better.”
“I won’t come back again. I promise.” It wasn’t a hard promise to make—she wanted to get out of there as fast as possible. Her hands probably weren’t going to stop shaking anytime soon.
“Good. Hey, listen. Do you ever go into South Philly?”
Joon looked at Tony more closely, afraid to tell him too much. “I guess sometimes I do,” she said cautiously. “Why?”
Tony rubbed his chin. “I work at a bakery there. It’s called Donata’s. If you ever get out that way, come on in and see me. I’ll give ya a deal on some bread and shit.”
“Thank you,” she said, meaning it but not sure she’d do it. “Where is Donata’s?”
“In the Italian Market. You know where that’s at?”
“Yeah, that’s some of the best Dumpster diving in town. Problem is every other person living on the streets knows it, and it’s just luck if you get good food or not.”
“Yep, that’s the place. Anyway, stop by and see me sometime.”
The screen door opened, and Quinn stepped out onto the porch. He extended his hand to Tony, who returned the gesture. “Thanks, man. I appreciate your help.”
Tony’s eyes turned dark and he leaned into Quinn. “Don’t you ever bring this girl here again. She could’ve been raped seven times over.”
Quinn jerked his hand from his grip. “Yeah. I won’t.”
Tony knew Quinn wasn’t sincere and that pissed him off. To make his point, he grabbed Quinn’s arm and pulled him closer. “After they were done with her,” he whispered, “they would’ve done the same to you.” Tony released his grip. “See ya later, Joon.”
“Bye, Tony. Thanks again.”
Blast came onto the porch and stood with Tony as they watched Quinn and Joon head back to the train station that would take them into the heart of the city.
“That boy’s a real fucking loser. I don’t like him,” Tony said.
Blast lit a cigarette and blew out the smoke. “Yeah, I don’t like him either.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
When they were far enough from the Slayers’ house for her to feel safe, Joon stopped and turned to him. Her eyes were red from crying and her teeth were clenched together.
“Why did you take me there, Quinn? I couldn’t protect myself and you couldn’t either. Why would you do that to me?”
Quinn reached for her hand. “I knew they wouldn’t really do anything. They were just messing with you. Besides, I wouldn’t have let them hurt you. I’m sorry.”
She jerked away from him. “You’re not sorry. You knew a gang lived there. We all talk about gangs at the Tracks. I could’ve been raped and killed.”
Quinn placed his hands gently on Joon’s shoulders. He looked into her eyes for several seconds. “I know. It was really dumb. I thought we would be in and out. I wanted to show you off to Pug. It’s just that you’re so pretty, and I wanted him to be jealous of me for having you as my girl.”
Joon was still shook up, but the compliment was doing a good job of distracting her. It was rare that anyone was complimentary of her looks. She folded her arms over her chest and tried not to smile. “I’m not pretty.”
“You’re more than pretty. I think you’re, like, the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” Quinn said, flashing her a charming smile.
Joon watched him, a small smile playing on her lips. “Do you really think I’m pretty?”
“The prettiest,” he said, sliding his arm behind her back and pulling her into him. When they were so close that their breath became one, Quinn kissed her. The scare Joon had just gone through made her want to be close to him, to feel as though he could protect her. Joon kissed him back, and this time, when he opened his mouth, she followed his movements, and their tongues danced with each other. When they parted, Joon was breathless.
“I really am sorry,” Quinn said, kissing her forehead. “Let’s get outta this shit hole.”
He paid the train fare on the way back into the city because Joon was still shaken and he didn’t want to put more stress on her by having to sneak onto the train.
Back at the Tracks, tucked inside the cardboard box, Quinn pulled his jeans off and threw them to the side, and a bag fell out of his pocket, revealing small, white packets.
Joon’s eyes hardened with judgment as she stared at the bag. “I knew it! You’re selling drugs. I figured that’s what you’re doing. That’s not good, Quinn. Do you know what can happen to you if you’re caught? And what about all of the kids’ lives you’re ruining?”
Quinn scooped the bag up and shoved it back into the pocket of his jeans. “It’s not a big deal. So what if I’m selling dope for Pug? You’ll be happy when you aren’t hungry all the time. Besides, I’m building a pretty big customer base. If I keep going, I’ll be able to buy my own house and get us off the streets.”
“Us?”
Quinn nodded.
Joon was torn—she strongly felt how wrong it was that Quinn was selling drugs, but she suddenly had hope—real hope—that he could buy a house and she could move in with him. She was searching for something to make her feel better, and the hope of a real home for the first time since her parents had died was seductive. Just as she was about to give in to it, a thought crept into her mind and a cold slice of fear edged up her spine.
“Do you take drugs too?” Joon asked.
“I have a little taste every now and then, but I ain’t hooked on them if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Ragtop took drugs and it really screwed her up. I don’t want you to ruin your life. Why do you take them at all?”
Quinn sat beside her. “Because sometimes, when I get sick of living like this, it’s a nice little escape. I’ve been homeless since I was twelve. It gets to you after a while and I
need something to pick me up.”
“What happened to your family?”
Quinn lay on his back and let out a loud breath. “My dad was a businessman. I was never close to him. He traveled a lot, and my mom got lonely. While he was in other cities on business, she would, you know, have guys over. Anyway, when I was eleven, my dad was on a business trip, but he came home a few days early and caught my mom in bed with this dude she picked up at a bar. They got into a big fight that night. My dad said she was a whore and told her that I probably wasn’t his real son. After he left, we didn’t have money, and my mom brought guys home every night. Sometimes they’d pay her with money, and other times they’d pay her with drugs.”
He shrugged. It didn’t seem to bother him. “In less than a year, she was hooked on cocaine and couldn’t get enough of the dope in her. She would leave me in the house for weeks at a time and not come home. I was still young enough that my friend’s parents would let me eat at their house and stuff. Anyway, while my mom was on one of her binges, the landlord evicted us. I couldn’t find her, so I took whatever shit I could carry and moved to the streets.”
“Have you seen your mom since then?”
Quinn’s face pinched tight—the first emotion she’d seen since he started telling her about it. “Nope. I haven’t seen the whore since I left. But, you know, I didn’t have it half as bad as some of the kids around here. Look at you. I mean, I know your foster mom hurt you… I don’t know everything that happened, but it had to be worse than just being left alone and thrown out.”
Joon put her face closer to his. “I think they’re both bad. We’re a lot alike, all of us kids—we all left something bad to find something better. Somedays, when I have enough to eat and I can wash up, I think it actually is better. I get to eat more now than when I lived with Aron. She starved me most of the time. It’s amazing what you’ll do when you’re hungry enough.”
Quinn kissed her on the cheek. “I hear you. People who’ve never lived without food have no idea how much pain there is when you haven’t eaten in a couple of days.” He was quiet for a moment and looked down, as if shy as he said the next part. “Joon, you’re the only girl I ever met that’s made me feel like a real person.”