Living Rough
Cristy Watson
ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS
Copyright © 2011 Cristy Watson
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Watson, Cristy, 1964-
Living rough [electronic resource] / Cristy Watson.
(Orca currents)
Type of computer file: Electronic monograph in PDF format.
Issued also in print format.
ISBN 978-1-55469-889-9
I. Title. II. Series: Orca currents (Online)
PS8645.A8625L59 2011A JC813’.6 C2011-903418-2
First published in the United States, 2011
Library of Congress Control Number: 2011929386
Summary: Poe, a homeless young teen, struggles to keep his living situation a secret.
Orca Book Publishers is dedicated to preserving the environment and has printed this book on paper certified by the Forest Stewardship Council®.
Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and the Canada Council for the Arts, and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.
Cover photography by iStockphoto.com
Author photo by Lynne Woodley
ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS
PO BOX 5626, Stn. B PO BOX 468
Victoria, BC Canada Custer, WA USA
V8R 6S4 98240-0468
www.orcabook.com
Printed and bound in Canada.
14 13 12 11 • 4 3 2 1
This book is dedicated to all the students with whom I’ve worked. Your resilience and constant hope inspire my characters.
This book is also dedicated to a fabulous man we miss and love, Uncle George (1950–2011).
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
I didn’t need a weatherman to tell me what to expect when I woke up. It was painfully clear. Well, the skies weren’t clear. What was clear was that it was going to be another crappy day. How can it rain for twenty days straight?
I’d scrubbed last night, so I pulled my pants and shirt on. My clothes smelled musty and felt damp. I figured some fresh air would help, and I wanted to break my record for speed-walking to school. My best time was eighteen minutes. Rain is a good motivator for speed. So I grabbed my felt hat and headed out into the cool wet morning.
I wolfed down a granola bar as I started up the hill. I’d grabbed it from the breakfast program at school. No one wanted to call it what it was, a meal program for loser poor kids. I always arrived early so I could raid the food and clear out before the halls got busy.
But the risk of going that early was that I was usually the only kid in the joint, and the staff would try to have a heart-to-heart with me. Every day. Like my life changed between Monday and Tuesday. I’m only fifteen, after all.
I wasn’t in the mood for conversation, so I was happy to find the room was empty. I figured it was safe to slip in and grab an apple from the food table. Sour juice ran down my chin as I bit into the green fruit. I’d just pocketed a peanut-butter granola bar when I heard voices. That was my cue to clear out of there.
I met one of the ladies that supervise the room on her way in. “Hi, Edgar,” she said. “I thought you might like this raincoat.” She held out a fluorescent blue jacket.
I shook my head and bolted down the hall. Couldn’t she see I was a trench-coat kind of guy? As I rounded the corner by the library, I bumped into our principal.
“Mr. Reed,” he said. He had a habit of calling students by their last name. I had often thought of calling him Pete to be funny, but I never quite got the courage.
“Hi, Mr. Johnson.”
“Listen, I’m glad I ran into you,” he continued. “I was wondering if you could do the school a favor.”
I don’t know why he talked about the school like it was a person.
“Could you show a new student around before the first bell? She arrived yesterday from the Ukraine and doesn’t speak much English.”
“I guess.” I tried to sound noncommittal. Maybe he’d come to his senses and find a keener, like someone from student council. But he didn’t notice my lack of enthusiasm. He gestured for me to follow him toward the office.
As I walked behind Mr. Johnson, I counted the tiles on the floor. There were forty-one linoleum squares from the breakfast room to the office. Counting helped my nerves to chill.
“Inna, please meet Mr. Reed,” said Mr. Johnson as he reached the foyer.
I couldn’t believe he’d used her first name. Her last name must be a beast to pronounce. I kept my gaze toward the floor while I thought about how I could get out of this.
A hand came into my view. The nails were spattered with green polish and were bitten to the quick. This girl was a chewer. Maybe she’d be all right. I risked looking up at her.
“Hallo. I’m Inna,” she said. Her accent was as thick as the mascara she’d darkened her lashes with. Eyeliner brightened her hazel eyes. Her lower lip quivered. She was obviously scared to death.
I’d be traumatized, too, if I didn’t know the language. “I’m Edgar,” I said as I shook her hand. I knew how to be polite. She smiled with what looked like relief. She didn’t want to take the tour any more than I wanted to give it. Mr. Johnson was already retreating down the hall.
“Thank you, Mr. Reed. Welcome, Inna. Enjoy your day at Crescent High,” he called over his shoulder.
“You’re…welcome,” she answered.
I smiled.
“Well, this is the office. Come here when you need to use the phone.” I gestured making a phone call, and she smiled again. We headed in the direction Mr. Johnson had disappeared. The hall started to fill with students. As usual, most of them seemed intent on staring. I was used to the looks. I’m not sure how Inna was handling their glares.
Two girls from grade nine whispered and giggled as they looked our way. I moved toward them, giving them a dirty look. Before I said anything, they clammed up and took off.
“Tsank you,” said Inna.
“Hey, no problem,” I replied as I stopped by the orange doors at the end of the hall. “This is the gym. Place for exercise.” I did two jumping jacks. Inna seemed to understand. Next stop would be the cafeteria, and then I’d need to help her find her class.
“Poe. Whaz up?” My only friend sauntered toward us. A book spilled from the pile in his arms onto the floor. Inna picked it up and passed it back to him. He gave her a goofy grin.
I looked Inna over again. She was kind of pretty. As she turned my way, I felt my cheeks get warm. I looked back at my buddy and sputtered, “Ben, meet Inna. Inna, Ben.”
“I like your name,” Ben said. “It’s cool. How come I haven’t seen you around before? Whose classes are you in? Are you in our grade?”
Ben was stringing the sentences together too fast for her to keep up. He proba
bly lost her at I like…
“Whoa! Slow down,” I said. Ben looked at me then back at her.
Inna scrunched up her eyebrows and seemed to be trying to piece together a response. “Grade? Ah…grade…ten,” she finally answered. Maybe she knew more English than I realized.
As we headed toward the cafeteria, Ben followed a few paces behind, checking out her skirt. He gave me a thumbs-up out of Inna’s range of vision.
“This is the cafeteria, but the food is bad.” I plugged my nose.
“You giving a tour?” Ben asked.
“Yeah. Johnson cornered me. What could I do?”
“Told ya you should come to my place before school. You get here too early. I’d say, ‘That’ll teach you,’ but this time you lucked out.” Ben chuckled as he headed to his locker.
It was nearly time for the bell. “Can I see your schedule?” I asked Inna. She looked confused. I pointed at the paper in her hand. She passed it to me, and I scanned the sheet.
Her first block was English in room 203. My class was across the hall, so that made it easy. I could meet her at the bell to escort her to her second block. That’s when she had science in the lab downstairs. Poor girl. She’ll never know what hit her. Science is okay, but Mr. Rich has no idea how to teach teens. Frogs he gets—students make no sense to him.
Before lunch, Inna’s class would be gym. It seemed straightforward enough. I could handle helping her get to her classes.
As the bell rang, a look of terror came over Inna’s face. She bolted toward the office.
In seconds she was lost in a sea of students.
Chapter Two
“Inna!” I shouted over the bustle of people slamming lockers and hustling through the corridor. Usually I was in class by now. I hate halls. I hate crowds. And the crowds hate me.
“Hey, loser,” said Theo, a grade twelve I always avoided. “Who let you out? Cave dweller.”
I wanted to tell him he wasn’t very original, but I was too busy trying to spot Inna. I kept walking.
“I’m talking to you, loser. Didn’t you hear me?” he said, pushing me against a locker. I guess that was for effect. By now his buddies had shown up. I didn’t stand a chance against that many of them.
Theo pushed my left shoulder, and I fell back into the locker again. I tried eye contact. He grabbed my chin and shoved me back so hard, I think my head left a dent in the metal door.
“Get him, dude,” said one of his groupies.
Like he didn’t already have me.
“What’s going on here, gentlemen?” Mr. Johnson arrived on the scene. I would have chosen a different word than gentlemen.
“Ah, nothing, Mr. J. We were just asking Mr. Reed here to move away from our lockers. Don’t want to be late for class, you know?”
“Well, get your things and move on.” Mr. Johnson winked at me. He knew what was really going on. If he gave them heck, they would retaliate later. This way, I saved face and no one got hurt. I squeezed by one of the other kids and took off down the hall.
I felt the residue from their insults but brushed them away as I continued searching for Inna. Thankfully she was waiting outside the office, looking more embarrassed than afraid.
“I…sorry,” she said.
“No problem. Come with me.” The halls were nearly empty now. Only a few late students straggled to their rooms. We walked up the stairs and stopped outside her English class. The door was closed.
“This is your room,” I said.
“Tsank you.”
“At the end of class…wait here.” I pointed to an open space in the hall. “I will get you…here.” I pointed again, and she nodded. I hoped she knew what I meant.
I knocked on the door. Ms. Carfax opened it and gestured for Inna to enter the room. I could hear her telling the class that Inna spoke little English. As I turned to leave, I caught Inna looking back at me and smiling. I felt an energy surge through me. I couldn’t wait for the end of class so I could see her again.
I was usually careful not to let anyone get under my skin.
What is it about her?
As I opened the door to social studies, Mr. Brock gave me the evil eye but didn’t send me for a late slip. Paul, another troublemaker (the school’s not short on them), tried to trip me as I passed him. Their games were so old. They’d been doing this since I arrived last fall. I ignored Paul and slipped into my desk.
Seventy-two drops of rain slid down the window while Mr. Brock told us what we’d be studying next. I only half listened. I never sweated much because I usually got decent grades. And that’s good. Even though it’s a long shot, I hope to enroll at university when I finish high school. I’m not sure what I’ll take, but I know I don’t want to end up like my dad.
Mr. Brock mentioned an article he wanted to share with us, and I was brought back to reality. Something he said made me panic. I looked up. He was staring straight at me.
Did he know my secret?
Chapter Three
Mr. Brock asked us to turn to page seventy-two. He opened a newspaper story on the computer and projected the image onto the screen. My palms were sweating, and the pages of my textbook stuck to my fingers. This was going to be tricky. A few kids were looking at me.
Why are they staring?
Do they know?
Mr. Brock tapped my shoulder. I nearly jumped out of my seat.
“You’re being paged, Edgar. One of your classmates can help you to catch up when you return.”
Jeez, I hadn’t even heard the announcement. I’m glad I didn’t blurt anything out.
As I moved down the hall, I wondered who I needed to thank for the getaway?
For a moment, I considered returning to class to grab my books. Then I could bail on socials. But I figured Mr. Brock would wonder why I was back so quickly. So I headed toward the office, where I found Inna waiting for me.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Go home…I go home.”
“You have to go home? But school isn’t over…”
“Her parents are here. They have to sign some paperwork, and Inna needs to be with them.” The secretary pointed to the door leading outside. I could see a silver Buick waiting with its engine running.
“I tell you I go home. Tsank you for today.” Inna smiled. Her eyes danced like they were smiling too.
I couldn’t believe what I was thinking. Eyes dancing…where did that come from?
But her eyes had this warmth that drew you into them. It was almost hypnotic. “Can I see you tomorrow? I mean, can I help you tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow. I…here…meet…here?” she asked.
“Yes. I will be here tomorrow. Good luck,” I said as she turned toward the door. I let out the breath I’d been holding as I watched her car pull away from the school.
Mrs. Norris looked at me strangely. I realized my mouth was hanging open.
My insides felt strange. I couldn’t get the image of Inna’s smile out of my mind. I never bothered with girls. Most of them were too busy with gossip to notice anyone but their little groupies. And the rest were so preoccupied with how they looked that I wouldn’t be included in their busy schedule of self-adoration anyway.
So why this girl?
“Mr. Reed.”
“Mr. Johnson,” I answered as I turned to face his six feet of principalship.
“Thank you for helping our new student today. I understand you were called down to speak with her again?”
“Yeah…Yes. She was picked up by her parents and wanted to let me know. So I wouldn’t wait at her class.”
“Well, your help has been noted. I also wanted to make sure you’re aware that if you need to talk with someone, Mrs. Bailey is always available.”
“Thanks.” I loved how he slid out of actually helping me. As principals go, he’s not that bad. He was pretty cool earlier, but when it came to what a student was struggling with, well, he left that to the counselors.
“You check in with Mrs. Bailey, okay
?” He moved off in the direction of the gym, where I could hear a scuffle in the hallway.
I wasn’t worried that Mr. J. knew what was really going on—he wasn’t too good at noticing the signs. His comments were probably about the bullying he saw today. But still… I needed to take some extra precautions.
Chapter Four
Thankfully, with Mr. J.’s chat and a loooong walk back to class, I managed to return minutes before the bell. Mr. Brock gave us four pages to read for homework and sixteen questions to answer, then let us talk among ourselves until the bell rang.
“Hey, Poe, where’s the new girl?” Ben asked during math.
“She took off for the rest of the day. Wish I had a reason to leave.”
“I don’t mind staying for drama class, but I’d rather be anywhere else than here.” Ben continued, “Inna sure is pretty. Need an extra hand with her?” He ran his fingers through his mop of brown hair. Ben didn’t have a way with the girls either. That was part of why we were friends. The main reason, though, was that we both like reading. These days book readers are rare—especially ones who read classics.
That’s why Ben gave me the nickname Poe. My dad loved the guy’s writing and named me Edgar Allan, but he never used the nickname. Ben thought I was lucky to be named after a writer like Edgar Allan Poe. His favorite story is The Tell-Tale Heart. I like The Masque of the Red Death. I bet Stephen King read all of Poe’s works when he was growing up.
As our math teacher wrote a quadratic formula on the board, Ben sighed. He’s not a numbers guy. Numbers stress him out. Ben shuffled through his backpack, pulling out papers and pencils and an old cookie that had a few bites out of it. He finished it off and rummaged in his pack again. This time he pulled out a graphic novel. He held it out of our teacher’s sight and read while Mr. Pender continued with the lesson.
After distracting himself for the first half of the class, Ben leaned over and whispered, “I don’t know how this stuff is going to make me a better actor. Shouldn’t it be enough that I know how to keep track of my huge earnings once I’m a movie star?”
Living Rough Page 1