And the guy who asks me for money? He can’t be much older than Emmitt.
My stomach starts a churn. When younger homeless guys approached me in the Springs, it always made me nervous—not because I didn’t like homeless people or something, but because I always knew how close I was to being where they were. Because every time Mom forgot to pay the rent, or the electric bill, or come home just before we ran out of food, I always felt like I was one step from having to keep Matt and Julia and me from either foster care or the streets.
I keep walking, because I find I can’t look at the guy. Plus, it’s not like I have any money anyway.
I suddenly don’t know what I’m going to do now. What was I thinking, trying to hitchhike out of New York with no money or food? I may as well face the fact that if I keep going like I am now, I will end up just like that kid who just talked to me.
But I still can’t bring myself to call Jack.
I frantically feel around my pockets again, looking for a couple of dollars I might have missed or something. I don’t even find a quarter, but my fingers do nudge something rough in my back left-hand pocket.
That’s pretty strange. I don’t think I’ve even worn these pants since we got to Vermont. They’re pretty old, and Beth bought me all new ones. These are the pants I’d been wearing on the flight out here.
When Jed gave me his card.
I tug out the battered piece of cardstock that’s now been put through the wash. The water has smeared Jed’s last name and address, but somehow his cell phone number has survived. Before I can think about it too hard, I start looking for a payphone.
It turns out that in this day and age, pay phones are hard to come by. I have to walk another, like, twelve blocks before I randomly see one in the entranceway of a diner.
I give up some dignity and ask a woman heading into the diner if I can borrow some money to make a phone call. It seems better to give up dignity now than to call this near-stranger collect.
“Jed Davies.” The background noises make it sound like he’s out at a restaurant or something. “Hey,” I say, trying to pull my thoughts together. “You don’t know me much, but I met you on a plane once.”
Silence, and I started to worry I’ve made a huge mistake. “Plane? Who the hell is this?”
Suddenly I can’t remember why I even bothered to call this guy. Even if he does remember who I am, isn’t he just going to rat me out to my uncle and aunt? Then I remember his story, and I’m pretty sure he isn’t going to do that. And what other choice do I have? I have no money, no food—nothing. “Dusty. It’s Dusty. I didn’t tell you my name, but I was traveling with my brother and sister. You said you had an aunt and uncle too.” I realized that doesn’t make much sense, but it’s all I can seem to put together.
“Oh.” I hear surprise in his voice, then irritation. “Kid, is there any particular reason you are calling me at nine o’clock at night?”
I blink. I haven’t even realized how long I’ve been traveling. “Right,” I sigh. “I’ll go.”
“Wait,” he says crossly, just before I hang up. “Why are you calling at nine o’clock on a Tuesday?”
I try to figure out how to explain this mess I’ve gotten myself into. “I… tried to leave.”
“Leave Vermont?”
“Yeah. I’m at….” I name the random diner I walked into. “Near 23rd Street.”
“Okay,” Jed says. He sounds like he can’t believe he’s having this conversation. “Okay. What are you doing there?”
“I was hitchhiking,” I mumble. “Then I took a bus. I was going to keep going from here. But I got here and I was taking a piss and someone grabbed my backpack and it had all my money in it and now I’m not really sure what to do next….”
Jed sighs heavily. “Dusty, have you been doing drugs? Drinking?”
I shake my head a few times before I realize he can’t see that. “Uh-uh. None of that. It’s okay, Jed. Don’t know why I called you. I’ll just find a ride somewhere.”
“Find a ride? More hitchhiking?”
When I don’t answer, he laces in. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? Hang up the phone right now and call your uncle to get you.”
Even in my dazed state, I’m appalled. “No way. It’s like you said…. I was just starting to like him. He screwed it up.”
There is a very long silence, and I’m starting to think Jed has hung up on me when he speaks again. “Dusty, you’re at 23rd Street?”
“Yeah.”
“You don’t have any money for subway fare? You’ve probably never even been on a subway anyway, have you?”
“Ah… no.”
“Shit. I’ll have to come get you.” He tells me to wait in the diner, and I get the sense he knows this area of town pretty well. “It’ll take me awhile to get there. Sit tight. Don’t leave, or I swear to God I will be so pissed I will come and find you.”
“DUSTY.”
Someone calls my name while I’m busy studying the signs next to the phone. (It’s either that or tell yet another waitress that I don’t need a table, I’m waiting for someone.) It’s a voice I know. Not well, but I know it. Jed. I turn slightly and find him standing there, a hand on my shoulder. “You ready to go?”
“Go? Where are we going?”
He gestures for me to follow him. “My place. It’s already almost ten. We’re not figuring this out in the middle of the street.”
I should probably balk at the idea of going to a nearly complete stranger’s house in a strange city, but where else am I supposed to go? Plus, I called him. I end all concerns by reminding myself that I was about to go hitchhike with complete strangers, so what’s the real difference?
Jed hails a cab and urges me into it. He names off an address in Brooklyn and we spend the ride in silence, with me staring out the window as though as I am seeing a whole new world for the first time—because I pretty much am.
Eventually the car pulls up to the curb of a street lined with older, brick, skinny-looking houses. Jed hands the driver a wad of bills and leads me out of the car and up a steep set of stairs.
His apartment is on the third floor of the building. It’s nice—he’s got it painted an almost soothing beige color, and there are plants and paintings everywhere. Somehow I expected him to live in some disgusting bachelor pad.
“You want something to eat?” My face must answer that question, because Jed starts to laugh. “I’ll order a pizza. You really haven’t lived until you’ve had New York City pizza.” He orders the pizza; then he sits down on one end of the couch in the small living room and gestures for me to sit on the other end. “So, my little runaway airline companion,” Jed begins, “you wanna go into a little more detail about what’s going on here?”
I scowl. “Not really. I mean, it’s simple. I didn’t want to go there in the first place. I hate it there. I just want my old life back.”
Jed snorts at that. “Your uncle said you got into some kind of a fight over him.”
I’m on my feet in about three seconds. “You called him? You told him where I am?”
Jed seems bemused by my reaction. “What, you think I just invite runaway teenagers into my home all the time without letting the authorities know where they are? Don’t kid yourself, son. I had the Vermont police on the phone about two minutes after you called. Got to talk to your uncle a few minutes after that. I had to tell them where you are. Do you want me to get arrested or something?”
That pisses me off so much I start heading right for the door, but Jed’s laughter stops me. “Dusty, what are you doing? Come back here. I’m not taking you back up there tonight. Chill out and have some pizza.” He shakes his head, then mutters, almost under his breath, “God, you are exactly like I was.”
I don’t want to stay. I really don’t. But the guy did just order pizza… and he did say he wasn’t planning on taking me back tonight. I figure I can always take off later on, after I’ve had some food. It’s not like I have any plans for the
evening anyway, so I sit back down on the couch. “Some guy said stuff about Uncle Jack at a party. I hit him. I thought… maybe I liked Jack after all that. I was wrong about all of it.”
“So you realized you liked your uncle a little. Then he tried to talk to you about it and you got pissed again?” Jed goes into the kitchen to grab us some sodas.
When I don’t answer, he tosses me the soda from across the room. “Geez, Dusty, I realize you’ve never had any parent care enough to yell at you, but don’t you realize that was your uncle being in charge of you? Watching out for you? Protecting you?”
“They don’t care about me.”
“Load of bull they don’t. When I talked to your uncle tonight, he was worried as hell about you, praying you were okay. You think your parents were doing that tonight? Or ever?
“Listen, kid, I came to pick you up because the idea of you hitchhiking scared the bejesus out of me, and I knew that’s what you’d do if I didn’t come. And I came because I know how you’re feeling—like you’ve lost control.”
Somehow, I know he’s exactly right. It’s just like that moment I had with Emmitt in his bedroom. He’s nailed down a problem I can’t even begin to explain.
“Kid, what you don’t realize is that you don’t have to control everything anymore. You think you do, but you don’t. You don’t have to be in charge, controlling everything now, because there’s somebody else there to help you when you get into stupid fights, somebody to wait up for you all night. You’re not going to fall off the edge anymore…. There’s a floor under you now when things go wrong.”
I drop my head into my hands, because there’s a chance I might start crying here, and there’s absolutely no way I want him to see that. “It’s just… it’s not fair, you know? I was doing really well back there. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I was. I had everything figured out. Now I have to start all over again… and I didn’t want any of this. I want my old family back. I want my old life back. And then, I want this other thing I can’t have, and that just makes it even worse…. It’s not fair.” I am crying a bit now, and I really hope Jed somehow hasn’t noticed.
He slides down the couch and sits next to me. “It never is, Dusty. It never gets fair. The best you can do—the best any of us can do—is to figure out when you’re going in the wrong direction and find the right one. That’s all you can ever do.”
Kind of like Zeb Pike, I can’t help but think. I have a feeling he’s suggesting that I probably shouldn’t have dealt with all this by trying to hitch my way across the country. “I don’t know if I can do that.”
“Well, okay. Look at it this way. You keep talking about how unfair it is that you had to leave Colorado and move in with your aunt and uncle, right?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“Look at all the great new life opportunities they’re presenting you with, if you’ll just take them. They kept you out of foster care. They want to love you and do the best they can for you. They must be good with your brother and sister, or I know there is no way you would have left the two of them in Vermont.”
Truth? This is everything I was thinking the night of the fight, as I was sitting in that station with Emmitt and Casey. He’s right, I know he is. I just don’t want to think about it right then.
“When’s the pizza going to get here?” I ask.
Chapter 8
FIVE MONTHS Earlier
It was a really good thing the school year was almost over.
That was all Dusty could think as the PE coach blew the whistle and Dusty dribbled the basketball back to the rack. If he had to take too many more PE classes watching Daniel do lay-ups, he’d probably have to leave Prescott and go find an all-girls school somewhere.
Dusty changed in the bathroom stall rather than by the lockers, carefully avoiding the awkward situation of seeing Daniel without a shirt on while other guys were around, and practically ran out of the gym to go find Matt and Julia.
He walked them home, listening to Julia babble on and on about the DVD their mother had promised to rent for them that night. Dusty tried not to get his hopes up too high; he knew it was 2:1 odds at best that their mom would even still be there when they got home.
Surprisingly, she was, and Dusty reveled in the way she curled up with Matt and Julia on the couch while he slunk back to his bedroom to try to get some sleep. His nose had been running all day, and his throat was starting to ache.
“Dusty! Dusty! We want breakfast!”
Dusty woke to a horrific headache, no ability to swallow, and Julia leaning over him. “Uhh… have Mom get you cereal, okay, Julia?”
“I can’t, Dusty! She’s not here.”
Dusty groaned. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d felt like this; all he wanted to do was chug some NyQuil and go back to sleep. But someone was going to have to get Matt and Julia to school.
“Julia, get me the phone, okay?” Their dad’s latest cell number was around somewhere. If Dusty called him, maybe he could come by long enough to take Matt and Julia to school. He hadn’t seen them in almost a month anyway, so he probably wouldn’t mind spending some time with them.
A moment later she was back with the cordless, and a few moments after that Dusty was remembering that his mom had stopped paying the bill a while ago, saying it was easier just to use her cell. She hadn’t seemed worried that Dusty didn’t have a cell phone of his own.
“I’m hungry, Dusty! I want eggs.”
Dusty hauled himself out of bed and started searching for Kleenex. It was going to be a long day.
THE PIZZA is really good, and it’s late enough by the time we finish eating that Jed just throws me some blankets and pillows and tells me to sleep on the couch before he heads off to his bedroom. He doesn’t mention anything about taking me back to Vermont, or seem even remotely worried that I’ll take off in the middle of the night. I don’t mention either point, as a good portion of me does plan on taking off in the middle of night.
It’s only a portion, though, and as I lay down for what may just be a quick nap, I’m finding it really hard to ignore what Jed said.
I fall asleep thinking that, and when I wake up, Jack is sitting on the couch next to me.
“Shit!” I’m so surprised to see him sitting there, drinking a cup of coffee as though there is absolutely nothing strange about this situation, that I almost fall off the couch. No lie.
“Morning.” He takes another sip. “How are you?”
That’s the only thing he has to ask me? “Uhh… fine. You?”
“Well, I could be better. I did, after all, just take a very long train ride from northern Vermont to New York City. Thank goodness the train runs overnight, so I at least got some sleep.” He takes another sip and gestures toward the bathroom. “Jed had to leave for work, but he said to help yourself to the shower. We’re catching the train back to Vermont tonight, so you have plenty of time.”
It’s like I’ve stepped into some weird alternate universe. Who is this guy?
“Jack—”
“Dusty, why?” His interruption is so sudden that I can’t help but look directly at him. “I realize you were upset about our fight in the car that night. I realize you haven’t been very happy with us. But still…. I feel like this came out of nowhere. You still won’t talk to me, Dusty. I had no idea you were upset enough to… to leave.”
I stare at the couch again, because I’m not sure how to explain anything. As usual.
“Look, take a shower. As long as we’re here, I may as well show you some of New York City. We’ve got plenty of time before the train.”
TIMES SQUARE is… well, disgusting. Disgusting and amazing at the same time. It’s like wall-to-wall people and stuff, and lights that are everywhere and are pretty impressive even during the day, and a lot of the tall buildings I saw the night before, and shopping in every direction.
And the food. Whew. Jack takes me to this place that is supposed to be famous for their cheesecake, but I perso
nally think they should be famous for just about everything they make. I have never had a roast beef sandwich quite like this one, and I don’t think I ever will.
We are gnawing on the amazing cheesecake when Jack brings up the subject we haven’t discussed since that morning. “Can we try to talk now, Dusty? Are you finally ready to try and explain some of this to me?”
It doesn’t feel like I can, but two other people have put it pretty well for me in the past, so I decide to borrow their words as much as possible. “It’s just, well, I didn’t want any of this, you know? I always wanted my mom to start acting like a mom again, or my dad to act like a dad, and that didn’t happen, and then we got shipped out to Vermont and no one even asked me, does that make sense? It was like I was losing control, and it just felt really unfair. I’m used to being in control all the time, and now I wasn’t, and that felt even more unfair…. Beth was taking care of the kids all the time and I never saw them. Not enough, anyway. And sometimes I even liked being able to, like, go to a Halloween party because I didn’t have to take care of them, and that didn’t seem right either. I got all confused.”
“And then you stood up for me and you couldn’t figure out why.” He says it really quietly.
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Look…,” Jack starts. “I just want to make sure you know…. I wasn’t mad at you that night.” I nod, because really I already knew that, and Jack keeps going. “I was just upset that you hadn’t told me what Rick was doing to you in school. Upset that you didn’t trust me enough to ask me for help. I was mad that you took off without telling me, but only because I was worried about you. Why didn’t you tell me, Dusty? About any of it? About what Rick was doing, or about what really happened at that party?”
Here's to You, Zeb Pike Page 13