Undergrounders

by David Skuy

  The most important thing was to eat. I hadn’t had a thing since yesterday before the game. Funny how important the game had been, and now I couldn’t care less — I had way bigger problems than playing hockey with a bunch of idiots. I needed to hawk some money real bad. I kept walking for a while and then stopped by the hill at Cedarview Park to watch some guys skating around on the outdoor rink.

  Just then something thumped me in the stomach and all my wind left me and I could hardly breathe. I dropped to my knees, and a boot stepped hard on my fingers. I tried to pull my hand away.

  “Let go. Let go,” I begged.

  He did — and I wished he hadn’t.

  Because staring down at me was W5.

  “This morning I met Lewis’s new delivery boy. I guess we don’t get to see you no more.” He leaned over and slapped me in the face, and I could taste blood in my mouth. “And I guess you ain’t got Lewis to protect you no more either — not that I care about him. That dude is almost as lame as you.”

  He laughed real ugly and then he kicked me in the ribs. The pain went up my side into my skull and then all the way back down to my feet. I couldn’t think straight.

  “And the new kid isn’t so dumb as to mess with me — and he doesn’t think he’s a tough guy.”

  He pulled me to my knees by my hair and punched me in the eye. It hurt too much to cry.

  “You think you can mess with me and get away with it? Do you?”

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

  W5 began to mimic me and his crew all laughed. “Let’s see how this rock rolls,” he said, and the next thing I knew I was tumbling down a steep hill, bouncing off the hard, crusty snow and ice. My cheek stung as I got up — I must have scraped it on the way down — and my head was all wobbly.

  “Have fun with him, boys. I gotta split,” W5 said, loud enough for me to hear, and he walked off.

  Scrunchy Face and three of his friends looked down at me from the top of the hill.

  “We’ll give you a ten-second head start before we come down and beat some respect into you,” Scrunchy Face yelled.

  “Why the head start?” one friend said loudly.

  Scrunchy Face made a big deal of shrugging his shoulders. “So let’s do it.”

  They came running after me. All I really wanted to do was curl up and cry — definitely not a good plan. Instead, I ran across the field, but they were behind me in no time, the sound of their feet on the snow getting louder and louder.

  “Look at the little guy go.”

  “He’s so cute.”

  “Nowhere to hide this time.”

  They were right. No garbage bin to jump into. I figured the change room, which was uphill and over to my right, was my only hope. Maybe someone would be there. I turned that way and began scampering up the hill, praying I wouldn’t slip and fall.

  About halfway up I lost my footing on a patch of ice, and flopped to my knees. It hurt like anything, but I was too terrified to care. I began crawling up the hill, which actually worked better than walking, although Scrunchy Face and his buds thought it was hilarious.

  “He’s so scared he’s crawling like a baby.”

  “You need a diaper change?”

  They could laugh away, and my knees were burning, but crawling got me to the top way before them, and I sprinted my guts out across the parking lot and into the change room.

  Empty!

  I froze — rooted to the floor like an ice statue — in the middle of the room, trapped, with nowhere to run, no one to help me. I had that pee feeling again.

  Scrunchy Face opened the door, hands on his knees, breathing heavy. “That run is gonna cost you ten head shots.” He turned to his friends. “I’m tired of chasing this shrimp. Let’s break his legs so he stays in one place.”

  They all laughed like a bunch of monkeys.

  “You leave now — or I call police.”

  The janitor held his mop like a sword and he pointed it at them. Scrunchy Face took a step forward — and so did the janitor.

  Something about that janitor convinced Scrunchy Face to back down. Something about him was tough. Scrunchy Face thumbed toward the door and said, “Maybe we’ll continue this party later. Talk to you soon, Mouse.” He nodded at me a few times, and off they went. I watched them skid down the hill and back across the field.

  “I not see you for long time,” the janitor said.

  “I … I guess … Well, I was playing hockey with a team and … I guess I didn’t have time to play here much … anymore.”

  “You good player. I play hockey very much in Soviet Union when I am young man.”

  “Thanks. And thanks for saving me from those guys. They … well … they don’t like me too much.”

  He sat on a bench and leaned his head toward me. “You are okay? You are hurt?”

  “I’m okay. Banged my knees a bit is all. Those guys are too slow to catch me, anyway.”

  He looked at me. “It look like they catch you little bit.”

  It was funny how he said it, and it made me laugh. “Maybe a little. But I’m okay now. Thanks again.” I looked outside and couldn’t see Scrunchy Face or his friends anymore. “I gotta go. I’ll see ya.”

  He nodded and went back to his mop and pail, and I went out the door. I waved from the outside and he waved back. The clang of the closing door bugged me a bit. I was back on the streets.

  I ran as fast as I could, away from Scrunchy Face and his friends, ignoring the pain in my knees. I ran until my lungs were about to explode, until I could barely breathe, until I was almost sick, until I was so tired I forgot what had happened to me.

  But I didn’t stop. Because I knew when I stopped running, I would remember everything.

  Chapter 25

  Later that afternoon I was hawking at a park in the west end. I didn’t do so hot — only got $2.50. I probably didn’t look too clean and scared people off. Lewis had always told me Reggies were afraid of Streeters that were real dirty.

  It was getting a bit dark, and I still hadn’t eaten. Around now usually W5 and his crew would be at the TV station, so I figured I could safely get a couple of Chinese buns for dinner. I had to get my sleeping bag at the Theatre anyway. As I walked, I cheered up when I remembered I didn’t have to save money for rent and could get an extra bun; at least that was one good thing about getting jacked.

  Even though it wasn’t that cold, I was shivering from being outside all day. The wind had picked up, which didn’t help. To make me more miserable my head wasn’t feeling too good, and I was having trouble looking out of my eye where W5 punched me. My pants had bloodstains, and my knees hurt because my pants rubbed against them with each step.

  I was too hungry to care about what I looked like anyway, and I put a dollar down on the counter.

  “Two coconut buns, please.”

  Winston leaned over the counter. “What happened to eye?” he demanded.

  Was it that bad?

  “I fell. Can I have two buns, please?”

  “You be careful. That bad bruise around eye. Very dangerous.”

  The smell of the shop was torture for my stomach. I pointed at the buns. Winston grunted and put four buns in a bag.

  “Two extra for today — no charge.”

  He dropped the dollar into the cash register — and then he laughed. I looked at him with my mouth wide open. He actually laughed.

  I’d won the bet, for whatever that’s worth.

  The moment was ruined when the door opened and Will, Rose and J.J. came in.

  Rose’s eyes bugged out. “You run into a truck, Mouse?”

  This was their fault. If they’d given me the five bucks I’d still be safe in the Underground. If J.J. hadn’t made me go to the TV station, W5 never would have pounded me in the first place. I wouldn’t be a Streeter now.

  “That’s about the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard, like I actually ran into a truck. You’re as dumb as a truck.” Then I thought of a great diss. “So what
happened to your face? Oh yeah. I forgot. You were born that way.”

  Rose looked like she’d been slapped in the face. “I’m just asking if you’re hurt … is all.”

  “You watch your mouth,” Will threatened. “You ain’t got Lewis as backup no more.”

  I lost it. My fist thundered into his nose and he dropped to his knees, blood pouring onto the floor.

  “Get out now!” Winston yelled. “Get out and don’t come back.”

  I pushed J.J. aside, glared at Rose, and left. By the time I got to the Theatre, I’d already inhaled all four buns, either because I was so hungry or so angry. All my junk was safe, at least, and I calmed down. Hitting Will sure felt good at the time, but now my right hand began to throb. Was there a part of my body that didn’t hurt?

  I grabbed my sleeping bag. I didn’t much fancy sleeping in a doorway again, and the wind still hadn’t let up and it wasn’t that warm. At the corner I crouched down and looked for any sign of W5 or Scrunchy Face or Will. Lewis had taught me that trick. People don’t notice you down low.

  Lewis! What did he know anyway — the stupid traitor? I was glad that I wouldn’t have to hang with him anymore.

  My knees were really bugging me, and it was hard to see out of my eye it was so swollen. I’d have killed to lie down and sleep, but it’s not that easy to find a safe spot in the middle of a big city. There were people everywhere, and cars and noise. I crossed onto Macdonald Avenue and headed toward the lake. I’d heard about a park where Streeters went to sleep. I was nervous about it, though. No one knew me, and maybe it was dangerous, but it couldn’t be worse than walking around all night.

  Suddenly, I heard the roar of the subway under my feet and the ground shook a bit, warm wind blowing up in my face. Without realizing it, I had walked over the vents, the perfect sleeping spot. A few people walked by, but I didn’t care. The drunks weren’t around — it was probably too early for them. I could sleep for an hour here and then check the park out. I squeezed into my sleeping bag and pulled the top over my head.

  • • •

  The side of my face hit the ground first, but my knees slamming into the steel grate hurt the most. I screamed without understanding what was going on.

  “It’s a little kid,” someone said, his words slurred.

  “What’s a little kid doin’ here?” his friend asked.

  “I’d like to teach this little kid to have some respect for his elders,” he slurred again.

  I blinked a few times. I could make out two men staring down at me. One was holding my sleeping bag. They’d lifted me right into the air and poured me out like a pile of garbage. I leapt to my feet.

  The guy with my sleeping bag stepped toward me. Because he was so drunk, he wasn’t that quick, so I got out of the way fairly easy. I reached for my sleeping bag and pulled on it. “Give me that; it’s mine,” I said.

  “No it’s not,” he mumbled, and he pulled back.

  The slurring guy charged toward me and knocked me down. I landed on my hip.

  “This is our grate!” he shouted. “Go rot yourself, you …” He hiccuped and blinked at me a bunch of times. “Got rot yourself,” he repeated.

  I got back up. Neither one seemed too steady on his feet, so I made my move and tried to yank the sleeping bag back. I almost got it but the guy did a 360 spin and the sleeping bag wrapped around his body, and then he fell like a log to the ground. I pulled on it, but I may as well have tried to push over a giant tree.

  The slurring guy growled, and he swung his foot at me. But the doofus missed completely, whirled around on one foot and fell on his friend, so now the two of them were lying on my sleeping bag.

  “Get off me, you fat slob,” the first guy moaned.

  The slurring guy started laughing, which set the other guy off and soon they were laughing like hyenas, and then they seemed to forget I was there and fell asleep. They both just feel asleep, all bundled up with my freakin’ sleeping bag. I laughed too, even though this was a total disaster — my sleeping bag kidnapped by two drunks. I tried pulling it free but it was useless.

  All of a sudden it didn’t seem so funny. Those drunks could fall asleep as if they didn’t have any worries. I had plenty. I had so many worries I had that sick feeling in my stomach. That feeling was becoming my best friend because it never left me.

  This was real bad. I had to get some sleep, somewhere safe, and out of this wind, or … well, I really wasn’t sure if I’d make it. This was worse than when I first hit the streets after mom died and Ron took off on me, because now it was winter and now I really understood what it meant to be on the streets, alone, without a sleeping bag or anywhere to go.

  You can’t survive like that; you just can’t.

  Chapter 26

  I was feeling dizzy and sick at the same time, maybe because I’d been walking around for hours. There was no point waiting for those moron drunks to let my sleeping bag go, so I finally went to check out that park. A few Streeters were huddled under an open building. All of them had sleeping bags. I couldn’t see myself joining them, so I left.

  My next plan was to find an open door and sneak into a garage. I couldn’t think of anything better. I figured that once I got out of the wind it wouldn’t be that cold, and I might get lucky and find a blanket or something. I went to the alley near the outdoor rink. There was a whole row of garages there and one of them had to be open.

  I knew it was risky, but I didn’t care. I’d worry about tomorrow … well, tomorrow.

  I started pulling on the handles one by one — nothing. I even twisted one so hard I think I broke it. One after the other: locked, locked, locked. I got to the last garage — locked again! I dropped to my knees. I was so tired. It was like someone was trying to kill me.

  Now what? I could try some more garages, but I didn’t know of any other alleyways like this where I could get into a garage without having to sneak into someone’s backyard. Think, Jonathon, think … but for some reason my brain wasn’t turned on, or it was dead, or frozen. Now what? The question kept repeating itself, and I had no answer. This was nuts. Houses everywhere and all of them locked — to keep me out. How unfair was that? Why did Rigger run the Underground anyway? No one should own it. I should own it. Why not?

  Rigger’s an idiot, and so’s Lewis,

  and Will,

  and Rose,

  and J.J.,

  and Creeper, Happy D, Fitzy, Skidder, W5, Scrunchy Face, and the drunks,

  and Lou and Malcolm,

  and Peter, Derrick, Andrew, Collin, Rasheed …

  Rasheed! He lived around here, and he had a huge garage in his backyard. I’d seen it when I went to help Rasheed get his equipment, and best of all it wasn’t even attached to the house. No one would know I was there. I could sneak in and be gone before anyone woke up.

  I cheered up and I swear it felt like only a minute before I spotted his house up ahead. Funny how a great idea can give you energy. The lights in the house were all off — not surprising because it must have been pretty late, and also lucky because that meant they were all asleep. When I got close I ducked down behind a large hedge between Rasheed’s place and his next-door neighbour’s, and made my way along the driveway, all hunched over and pushing my back real tight against the hedge. A final check — nothing seemed to be doing in the house — and I got past the front steps and high-tailed it to the garage.

  I twisted the garage handle, praying it wouldn’t be locked. Bingo! It was open. It squeaked a bit but not too bad. I pulled it up only enough to slide underneath on my belly, and closed it back up. Once inside I turned the light on. There were no windows, but I was nervous all the same, and I quickly scanned the shelves for anything to sleep on.

  To the right was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen: camping equipment, all organized on shelves. They had coolers, tents, and chairs — and a bunch of sleeping bags. I pulled a grey and a red one down, and then spotted a few mats. I grabbed one of those and spread it out on the floor. M
aybe my luck wasn’t so bad after all. I hadn’t had such a comfortable bed in ages. It was almost as good as Lewis’s couch, and the sleeping bag was the same kind I’d stolen from Rasheed before.

  Stupid drunks! I hope they choked on that sleeping bag.

  The garage creaked with the howling wind. It felt so good not to be outside. My face felt weird now that the wind wasn’t blowing on it all the time. I was so tired that I had become light-headed, and my legs and arms were tingly. As I closed my eyes, my mom’s face popped into my head. It does that sometimes; I never know when. It could be in the morning, or just walking along, but usually it’s when I’m falling asleep. This time she was smiling, and her hair was all done up like when she was getting fancy to go out to dinner. I wondered if she was looking down on me now.

  I hope not. I think she’d have been sad to see me like this.

  • • •

  I was dreaming about being in a park or in a forest with big trees and there were voices, kids’ voices, all around, and they were talking like kids do at a playground, and then there were storm clouds and huge thunder, and a big flash of light appeared, not exactly lightning, but as if God had suddenly turned on the sun and made the world light, although it was all foggy and I couldn’t see too much. Then I heard a scream, which set my heart pounding through my chest. I sat up and looked around in a daze because the dream was so real and it took me a while to see that I wasn’t really in a forest.

  The fog cleared. Rasheed and Alisha were staring at me, and then I knew what had happened. The voices I’d heard were Rasheed and Alisha, the thunder was them opening the garage door, and the sunlight meant I’d slept in. It was morning. I was trapped, and wrapped up in a sleeping bag so I couldn’t even make a run for it.

  Alisha spoke first, and her voice really freaked me out because she sounded so scared and her voice cracked. “What happened to you, Jonathon? Are you hurt?”