by G. Benson
Carmen’s gaze was glued on Jia. From her periphery, she could just make out Rae watching them from where she’d plopped down on the cot, her feet crossed at the ankle and her dark eyes flitting from one to the other. Slowly, a smile crept up on Jia’s face, the scar on her left cheek folding in on itself. A smile like that was one Carmen hadn’t been offered very often, and warm relief pooled in the back of her throat, sliding down in a torrent to flood her insides.
“I almost didn’t believe Rae when she said who was at the door.”
“I’m not surprised.” Carmen shrugged, the movement more relaxed than anything else about her. “It’s been awhile.”
“We would have worried about you, but at least you got word to us that you were fine.”
Carmen bit her lip, the space of time too large between them. How to fill it up? “I didn’t want you to think I’d run on purpose.”
Rae snorted from the bed, and Carmen’s cheeks warmed as she looked at her before looking back to Jia, who still sat at her desk and watched Carmen openly.
“I always knew you’d go back home if the chance came. I’m glad you had that opportunity.”
Weak-kneed at the knowledge that, after years, the woman in front of her didn’t harbor hatred, didn’t feel betrayed, Carmen wrapped her arm tighter around her brother. “I was so grateful for what you did.”
Jia cocked her head. “And now you’re back.”
Carmen cleared her throat and her cheeks grew even warmer as moisture prickled at her eyes, and she cast her gaze toward the ceiling to try to push the feeling down, to stop it from drowning her. “My—our mother, she died.”
Mattie twitched under her arm, and she wished she could shield him from all of it, from everything. “We were back in the system. They were going to send Mattie to a foster home again, but me…”
“To one of those group homes.” Knowledge of what that meant wrapped itself in her vowels.
“Yes.”
“And you ran with an extra this time, I see.” Jia’s attention finally fell to Mattie.
Carmen nudged him to stand in front of her like before, and pulled him against her front so Jia could see him properly. She folded her hands over his chest.
“Hello, Mattie.”
Mattie looked up at Carmen, then back to Jia. “How do you know my name?”
“Carmen told me about you when she was here last time.”
“What’s your name, then?”
Jia’s lips quirked in what could have been amusement but she quickly squashed it down if it was. “My name is Jia Lu.”
“What is this place?”
“This is…” Jia looked around the room and then back to Mattie. “This is somewhere safe for kids like you. Kids with nowhere else to go.”
“You take all of them?”
Jia glanced away before looking back to Mattie.
He was watching her openly, and Carmen knew just how hard it was to have to spill hard truth to those trusting eyes.
“Unfortunately, no. I wish I could, but there’s not enough space, enough resources. I take in the ones most desperate, the ones who cause the least trouble. Ones who are quick and smart and motivated.”
“You looked after Carmen.”
“She was especially pathetic, yes.”
Carmen rolled her eyes, and Rae snorted from the bed again.
“Rae.”
Rae looked to Jia, trepidation playing on her face.
“That bruise coming up on Carmen’s cheek—will that be the last?”
“Yeah, I figure we’re even now.”
“Good.”
Eyes back on the two of them in the doorway, Jia said, “Rae will take you to one of the empty rooms. You’ll have to share. We’re a bit packed, what with the weather.”
Against her, Mattie relaxed.
“That’s no problem.” Carmen squeezed him closer. “We prefer that anyway.”
Jia’s expression didn’t change. “I thought as much. We’ll talk tomorrow, Carmen. We need to discuss how this is all going to work… He’s young.”
“Okay.”
At that, Rae pushed herself up off the bed and walked past them, her shoulder brushing Carmen’s. Not roughly, at least. With a final look at Jia, one hundred questions threatening to explode from her tongue, Carmen poked Mattie in the back gently, a cue to walk in front of her. They walked up the creaking metal steps and ended up in a corner room, two mattresses on the floor and a small window along one wall, rain smattering against the glass.
Rae stood against the doorframe and watched them in the small space, standing in the middle of the room. Mattie really was little for his age, Carmen thought, as he looked around the room: it was bare, the walls a little dirty, a water stain stretching across one. His gaze tracked over the mattresses, the single window, and Rae, then fell on to Carmen.
“This is way better than the bridge,” he finally said.
Almost smiling, Carmen dropped her backpack at her feet. She glanced around as though everything didn’t hinge on this battered building and its battered people, giving a one-shouldered shrug. “Yeah, I think so.”
From the door, Rae asked, “You guys have a sleeping bag?”
“We have one.”
“I’ll grab you another.”
She disappeared without another word, her boots clattering a little on the stairs. Carmen suddenly felt the lack of her presence, the swirling of air she left in her wake. After not having her around for so long, the last few minutes had weaseled Rae back under Carmen’s skin.
“Can I have that bed?”
Tearing her gaze from the empty doorway, Carmen looked back to her brother. He was pointing to the mattress under the window, eyes lit up like they hadn’t been the past few days.
“Sure.” Carmen tried to ignore the way her voice rasped a little at his happiness over a ratty mattress on the floor. “Sure you can.”
He dropped his bag on it, sitting down in the middle and bouncing a little. “It’s comfy.”
Anything was comfy after sleeping on cement, where the cold crept through no matter how many layers you wore.
“Good.”
Mattie stared up at her, and Carmen sat down on her own mattress, the foam sinking under her, her eyes almost level to her brother’s.
“Carmen?”
“Mm?”
“What will we do here?”
“It depends.”
“On what?”
“How long we stay.”
Mattie looked around again, his eyes ending up focused on the doorway where the catwalk was just visible. “I’d like to stay.”
Carmen knew that look in his eyes, had seen it on her own face, reflected in dirty glass when she’d first arrived somewhere where people didn’t yell at her or chase her or hit her. Somewhere that had warmth and food. Stability.
“Plus,” Mattie continued, “I saw they had cereal and pasta. I’m kind of sick of sandwiches.”
Carmen choked on a laugh. He said it like he was confessing something, a guilty thought that had played in the back of his mind. “Yeah, I kind of am too.”
He gave her a shy smile, and something flittered between them, something familiar and soft.
“Here you go.” The sleeping bag, rolled tight, hit Carmen sideways, and she looked back to the door where Rae stood, looking a little pleased with herself. “You guys eaten tonight?”
“We did.”
Rae raised an eye brow. “Enough, though?”
Carmen looked to Mattie, checking his face, but he gave a nod. Eyes back on Rae, Carmen said, “Enough.”
“Okay, do I need to go over the rules again?”
Carmen knew the rules. But Mattie didn’t, and it seemed easier if he
got the same introduction everyone else did.
Before she could say anything, though, Mattie piped up. “I don’t know the rules.”
Another smile was poorly smothered as Rae crossed her arms, her shoulder against the doorframe once more.
“Okay—we all contribute, in whatever way. Jia will talk to you tomorrow to find out how that will be. Clean up after yourself, and speak with Dex to find out what you need to do to help in the building as much as you can. Especially as it gets colder, we have to do a lot of work to make sure it’s warm enough here. No drugs. None. You’re found with drugs, you’re out. No guns. Any guns, you’re out. Same goes for knives.” She shrugged. “That’s it, they’re the rules.”
Mattie’s face was scrunched up, a picture not unlike when he was small and trying to understand what was going on. “What’s…countreebute?”
Rae, despite herself, smiled this time—a lopsided thing. “Contribute. It means help out.”
“I can help out. I do at home, don’t I, Carmen?”
Carmen hummed her agreement distractedly, not sure where Jia would want Mattie to help. There were a lot of ways of helping out there, each person’s contribution a little different. Before, Carmen had scrounged food. They knew all the places people wasted a lot, threw out unopened packets because they were a day past their use-by date, malls in which you could get enough food to feed them all for a night.
There were the kids that had learned to pick pockets a little, targeting a certain type of person. Only those who were small and fast did that. Carmen had done that too. She didn’t want Mattie doing it.
But then there were the books, and some of the older people that pushed kids to learn, to read, to keep up with school. Dex was involved with that. The ultimate goal was to get the kids moved on, to something legitimate and real and legal. Jia and Dex had connections, had routes to get as many of them off the streets as they could. People who would take a risk and offer leases or jobs.
“Jia will speak to you guys in the morning, then. You know how it is, Carmen. You’re free to come and go, upstairs and downstairs.” She cleared her throat. “I, uh, grabbed this, in case he’d want it.”
Something heavy landed next to her on the bed, and then Rae was gone before Carmen could say thank you.
“Is that a book?” Mattie’s eyes had lit up, the nervous look that had been constant lately fading slightly.
“It’s Roald Dahl.”
In moments, Mattie had scooted over to her bed, and soon they were laid out, both sleeping bags open over them. Words stuttered out of Mattie’s mouth, his voice a little high and hushed as he whispered and read the story of an adventurous child. His head stayed against her shoulder, and when he fell asleep with heavy breaths, the book fell to the floor with a dull thud.
Carmen stared up at the ceiling, so like the one she’d stared up at her first night here, and she wondered if this was really the best thing she could have done for him.
Someone laughed downstairs, the sound foreign and loud. Footsteps clanged along the catwalk. Nervousness about the people who were there should have played at her stomach, but Carmen had never heard of an incident here. It was the world outside that was a threat, looming and unknown. Here, Jia and Dex kept them all in line.
It wasn’t very late, and Carmen was buzzed, energy burning up her legs. She wanted to bounce them, to pace, to run.
Mattie snuffled in his sleep, rolled a little, his head falling from her shoulder to the mattress.
Carmen took the opportunity to slip out of the bed and stand in the middle of the dark room, orange light from outside spilling over the bed Mattie had chosen. Empty, as it would probably be most nights.
He was tiny on the mattress, a tiny lump made of tiny, basic needs. He was too young, younger than Jia normally had here, younger than those who normally wandered the streets. Younger kids were homed more easily, picked up faster. Carmen’s stomach twisted. He could be in a house right now, going to school in the morning, not laced in uncertainty and lost in a city so big you could disappear in it.
He was sound asleep, his breathing rhythmic. When someone dropped something downstairs, the noise clattering and loud, he didn’t move, didn’t flinch.
Once Mattie slept, he was out.
Carmen slipped out the door and closed it behind her. No one went into rooms with closed doors here.
On the catwalk, the metal beneath her feet creaked ever so slightly, the runway old and a little rusty. When she looked over the railing, people milled near the eating area, some still sprawled over the sofas. The smell of damp people who hadn’t showered quite enough hung in the air, not strong, but there. There were public showers they could access, gyms some slipped into; most didn’t go enough, though.
Jia’s door was closed, and after a second of wringing the rail under her hands, Carmen turned and walked as quietly as she could around to the other side of the catwalk, to a door that was always open. Her footsteps echoed a little as she climbed the stairs. At the top, she pushed open the door, the cool air from the roof spilling over her cheeks.
She gulped it down, not sure why she felt like she couldn’t breathe when she and Mattie were finally somewhere safer than most other places.
The rain was still falling lightly, almost a mist. She tilted her head up, letting it coat her face as she sat on the edge of the roof, legs dangling and her heels kicking against the brick, legs flying out, only to feel that tug of gravity as they fell back down to bounce again.
Buildings lay out in front of and around her, soft lights filtering from a few. Most in this area were empty and unused. Everything smelled like rain, like cleansing, and as gravity kept pulling her feet back to the brick, Carmen thought of eyes too blue, that sucked her in and left her breathless. When they had kissed that time, Ollie’s lips had been like the tide pulling at the shore, like fingers that dragged her under. Her skin had been dark and mappable and soft.
Ollie, a girl she had only really collided with twice, was someone she needed to forget and put down to coincidence. Not easy to do when her mind plucked at physics, at an undeniable pull, at something indisputable.
“Has the view changed?”
Carmen didn’t even jump at the voice.
Rae plopped onto the edge next to her, her feet swinging in time with Carmen’s, a rhythm they built together.
“Not at all,” Carmen said. The mist was fading, the air still sitting damp and heavy over their skin.
“Does your face hurt?”
Carmen smirked a little. Yes, it did. “Not at all.”
Rae huffed a laugh.
Something assembled in her stomach, slid up her chest, and sat heavy at the back of her throat. Words formed, and before she could swallow them down, Carmen let them spill out, long overdue. “I’m sorry.”
The thudding against the brick paused for a moment before they gave back into it, somehow even more in time than before. “Thanks.”
Something deeply etched into her ribs eased a little. Carmen turned her head, watching Rae’s profile as she stared out ahead of her. Her hair was short now, pixie short, with a shaved undercut; the color of ink. The cut was fierce and soft all at the same time. “Do you need an explanation?”
Rae sighed, her breath a visible huff in the cool air. “Don’t need one.” She turned to look Carmen in the eyes. “But I want one.”
With a nod, Carmen dug her fingers into the brick beneath her hands, letting it bite into her fingerprints. She remembered the feeling of the wind on her face, pulling at her hair, as she’d run. Rae’s footsteps had purposely pushed her in the opposite direction—always the plan: to confuse whoever was chasing them. The money clutched in her fingers had been burning-hot, and Carmen had been so sure she’d get away. Then a hand had snatched out, grabbed at her sweater, and yanked her back. Her head had crack
ed against the pavement, light exploding behind her eyelids. When she’d been bundled into the back of a police car, not for the first time, she’d seen Rae getting pushed into the back of another, and her stomach had sunk as if it had been filled with stones.
The story they’d perfected, the names they knew, were prepared and ready. The lies wrapped in more lies, given by people who knew names they could use that didn’t have rap sheets, ran around and around in her head, ready to spill to help save both their skins. Normally, they’d be given a slap on the wrist in the street, occasionally at the station.
Sitting in different cars, just before the doors had closed on both of them, they had locked eyes for a desperate second, and Carmen hadn’t been able to read the look on Rae’s face.
“I was angry you’d been caught. You were too young and my responsibility.”
Carmen rolled her eyes. “We were each other’s responsibility. I was just as angry you were caught.”
Rae gave a shrug, her heart clearly not in it. The two years she had on Carmen might as well have been a lifetime.
Expectantly, Rae watched her, so Carmen kept talking. “You were driven off. But then this lady was banging on the window of the car I was in and speaking to the police. I didn’t leave you behind, Rae. I didn’t.”
Carmen swallowed down the tone in her voice, tried to calm the desperation that pulled at her vocal cords. Carmen didn’t care what many people thought, but Rae was one of the few people who were under her skin, sewn into her muscles, stretched over her bones. Family. “This lady had been one of my old caseworkers. She recognized me. She talked them into letting her take me from the station, without them charging me.”
Carmen had panicked. Her entire body had gone numb. She’d argued and said she didn’t want to go, but no one had listened. She’d thought they would take her back to foster care, another home.
“So…you didn’t drop me in it?”
Carmen sighed, the brick still biting at her palms, her fingers. “Well, I did. Just not on purpose. It was a weird fluke: my mom’s case had just passed through court, she’d somehow been given back custody, and she was on some kind of war path, saying I was missing.”