“I think it’s ’cause they’re lazy,” said Shane. “They like living off the government. Then when the government gets wise to their tricks and cuts them off, they become even bigger bums. That’s what my dad says.”
I pulled at my shirt collar. I tried to count the number of nouns in the article.
“Yeah, but there are kids who are homeless,” added Janie. “Who would do that? Why wouldn’t the parents get a job at McDonald’s or something? Then at least they could bring food home.”
“You all make it sound so easy. You don’t know anything!” My voice was tight and louder than I expected.
“Well, you don’t have to go all psycho on us.” Paul looked at me like I was an alien.
I closed my eyes, hoping to block them out, but someone laughed. Hot blood raced through my veins. My breath was at the back of my throat, not coming from my chest. A burning energy pulsed into my hands.
“Bottom line is, those kind of people don’t count,” said Paul. “Besides, half of them are crackheads anyway.”
Before I knew what I was doing, I shoved my textbook across the desk into Paul’s chest. “Shut up!” I yelled. My hand squeezed into a fist. All I could see was my dad’s face as he sent out résumé after résumé. But instead of plowing Paul, I slammed my chair into the floor. “My dad lost his job because he spent every day at the hospital caring for my mom. Do you know what it’s like praying someone will offer your fifty-four-year-old dad a job?”
“We didn’t know,” said Janie. “We didn’t mean…”
Janie and Shane exchanged glances. I could feel my cheeks burning with shame. I wondered what they were thinking. Then Mr. Brock returned to our table. If they suspected I was homeless, I hoped they wouldn’t say anything to our teacher. All I’d need is for him to call social services. They’d want to see where I live—how could I explain I live in a tent? I’d be put into foster care and never see my dad again.
How would he manage by himself?
“Everything all right here?” asked Mr. Brock.
“Edgar was telling us—,” Janie started.
I jumped in. “I was explaining how the man in this article might have ended up on the street. I got angry with Paul for saying that every homeless person is a drug addict. That’s just NOT TRUE.” Paul glared at me.
“Edgar’s right,” said Mr. Brock. “People make assumptions about the homeless without knowing the whole story.”
Paul shook his head, his mouth curved into a smirk.
I couldn’t regulate my breathing. If I stayed another minute, I’d lose it. I wanted to hit Paul. I wanted to make him look the way I felt inside—bruised. “Mr. Brock, can I be excused to go to the washroom?” I asked. Then, without waiting for his answer, I stormed out of the class.
Who was I kidding? Sooner or later someone would find out and report me. How could I ever think I’d get to university?
As I sulked down the hall, I passed Inna’s room. She was looking out the window. Her teacher was talking fast, and I’m sure Inna couldn’t keep up. Worrying about her helped to take my mind off my problems.
But I still wondered how I would face my classmates after freaking out.
Chapter Nine
The afternoon dragged on. After the last bell, I hung around Inna’s class, hoping I’d see her.
I wasn’t sure what to say to her when she stepped into the hall. I only knew I needed whatever it was she was giving me…her smile, her hand…I’d take any of it right now.
“Want to see the beach?” I asked, surprised by my suggestion.
She shrugged and tilted her head sideways, her caramel hair draping her arm.
“Water. Sand.” I gestured, “Swim.”
She laughed. “Too cold…”
“No, not to swim. I mean, yeah, it’s too cold to swim. We can just walk.” I tried mimicking the actions again, hoping she understood. I wished now I’d played charades more often when my mom was alive. She loved that game.
“Yah. We go for walk at bich.” I laughed at her accent. Then I felt badly because she didn’t know why I was laughing. I wanted her to feel comfortable trying to speak, so I apologized. She smiled and took my hand.
Once at the bus stop, all I could think about was how I was going to pay for this “date” I’d decided to go on. I rifled through my pockets to see how much change I had while Inna texted her parents. Dad had given me a few bucks for lunch. Since I’d eaten with Inna, I had enough for bus fare and one coffee or ice cream.
After a short ride, we got off on Marine Drive and strolled along the pier. Inna kept her hand in mine.
Two eagles circled overhead before they flew off toward the trees. Sailboats rocked in their berths at the end of the pier. Inna used her cell phone to take a picture of a seagull with a starfish in its beak.
I knew she didn’t understand much English, so maybe that’s what got me started. Or maybe it was the warmth of her soft fingers intertwined with mine? Whatever it was, I found myself blabbing my life story to her.
As we left the pier and walked toward the big white rock the city is named for, I said, “You know earlier today? I didn’t mean to get all strange about my address. You see, the truth is, I don’t have an address. No address. No phone number. I actually live in a tent. With my dad. In the trees. We’re in a small patch of forest between a shopping plaza and the street. Can you believe that?”
I chanced a look her way. Her eyes were on a couple sitting on the bench to the side of us. They were kissing. I figured it was safe to continue. Inna wasn’t really paying attention, and I don’t think she caught all of what I was saying. I must have needed to tell my story even if Inna didn’t understand all of the words.
“The problem is,” I said, speaking quickly, “the city has decided to build more townhouses. Like we don’t have enough already. So I’m worried they’re going to spot us. I don’t know what to do. I could maybe live with Ben…for a while, but then what about my dad?”
“Dad?” That got Inna’s attention. “You have mom and dad, no?”
“I…I have a dad, yeah. But, my mom…died…last spring. Cancer.” I didn’t know if that word translated, but she seemed to understand.
“Cancer and my grandma. She dead. Two months.”
“You just lost your grandma? That’s really sad,” I said. “I still cry sometimes when I think of my mom. Mostly I miss her laugh. And the way she made me feel better when things were crappy. You know how moms do that?”
Inna didn’t respond. Instead she said, “I have mom and dad and tree brudders. You have brudders or seesters?”
I used to be so happy I was an only child. I got all of my parents’ attention and never had to share anything. Now I wished I had a sibling to help me out, or at least, to keep me company. Doing this solo was really tough. “Just me,” I answered, leading us back toward the main strip.
I bought Inna a coffee at a shop on the corner. I felt lighter after talking about the stuff that was stressing me out. As the temperature dropped and rain began to fall, I thought we’d better head home.
Inna drank her coffee while we waited for the bus. After a few sips, she shared the cup with me. Wind ripped through our jackets, and Inna shivered. To help keep her warm, I draped my coat around her shoulders. Black clouds filled the sky.
As the bus drove up the hill toward the school, tennis balls of hail bounced off the roof.
Chapter Ten
I said goodbye to Inna at the bus stop, then raced down the hill. Panic pushed my body into overdrive. Hail dropped into the space between my jacket and my neck, sending an icy chill down my spine. Even before I reached our site, I could see the damage.
The wind had knocked down several small trees, and now the orange and blue tarps covering our tent could be seen from the street. A plastic bag flew past me like tumbleweed. If we didn’t secure the tarps, they’d be next. My dad was running around the campsite tying things down and putting loose items under cover. We didn’t have much, so we couldn�
��t afford to lose anything to a storm.
“This came up fast,” my dad hollered as I approached. “Grab my bike, will you, son?”
“Sure, Dad.” I pushed the bicycle toward my father. He rolled it inside our tent. Hail covered the ground like Styrofoam. A squirrel raced up the tree beside me, looking for shelter.
“What are we going to do, Dad? This is the worst storm I’ve ever seen. Look at the trees falling. There’s no way we can hide our site now.”
“We’ll get through tonight and consider our options in the morning. Once we have everything tied down, we can head to the coffee shop and have…”
“What?” My dad’s voice was lost to the wind. He gestured toward the small camping table. I quickly turned it on its side and folded the legs, then pushed it into the tent to help hold it down.
There would be no room for us once we loaded everything inside. I don’t think my dad was too concerned.
A crack of thunder made me jump. The wind wasn’t letting up. My eyes stung, and my lungs wheezed with each breath. My dad was hunched over, gathering pots and pans into his sweater.
I pulled extra rope through the holes of the two tarps. On the last hole, the wind whipped the tarp, and the rope tore from my hands, burning my flesh. I grimaced with pain but grabbed the swinging rope and wrapped it around the nearest tree. I tied three knots, hoping they would hold.
Snap! Crack!
An alder branch split and careened down on my dad’s head. He fell sideways. His face scrunched up with pain as he hit the ground.
“Dad!” I yelled, running to his side. “Are you okay?”
“I may have broken my arm.” He looked pale.
“Let’s get out of here, Dad. I don’t care if we lose everything. All that matters is that you’re all right.” He stumbled as I helped him up.
“I’m fine. I just need some food. Grab our winter coats, will you?”
I put my dad’s jacket over his shoulders and guided him toward the street. It was going to be a long walk to the hospital. Then I remembered the clinic down by the freeway.
I took one last look at our site. Most of our stuff was in the tent. I’d closed the flap on my way out. I could only hope that it would be there tomorrow.
Then I remembered something I couldn’t afford to leave behind.
“Dad, stand here for a minute, okay?” I ran back to the tent. I rummaged through our stuff. The wind rumbled through the thin walls and seemed to want to lift me off the ground.
I found what I was looking for. I put it under my hoodie, tied the tent flap down again and ran back to take my dad’s good arm.
Bending my head down, we moved into the headwind. When we reached the coffee shop, my dad tugged on my sleeve.
“We’re here, son. This is as far as I can go…I need to sit down.”
“But, Dad,” I protested. “Shouldn’t we go to the clinic? Get you some help?”
He sighed. “I let our health-care payments lapse. They’d want to know our address. I’d have to tell them our situation, fill in forms. I honestly don’t have the energy for that right now.” He pulled away from my grasp. “Just let me rest. I’m tired.”
“But…”
He staggered toward the door.
“Dad!” I called after him.
Ignoring me, he opened the door and entered the coffee shop.
Chapter Eleven
Warm air and the aroma of fresh coffee and chicken soup greeted me as I entered. My dad was already seated at a table in the back. This was the best spot, because it was out of the staff’s range of vision. There was a video camera hoisted above us, but I was pretty sure nobody watched it. I didn’t want anyone kicking us out tonight. We had nowhere to go.
“Okay, Dad. We’ll stay here. But you need some food.” I rummaged through my backpack.
“Do you have any money?” he asked.
I hesitated. I was embarrassed to tell my dad I’d spent the last of our money on a girl. I shook my head.
“Well, I don’t have any. I was so busy trying to find a new spot to pitch our tent that I didn’t have time to hunt for bottles.”
He looked so hungry. Pain flashed across his face as he leaned on his injured arm.
I lied. “I just remembered, Dad. I left the cash at the site.” Looking at the floor, I said, “I’ll go back and get it.”
“I’m not that hungry, Edgar. Stay inside. Stay warm.”
I ignored him and started toward the door. “Wait here,” I said over my shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”
I left my dad slumped at the table. The air that hit me as I opened the door felt twenty degrees colder than inside. The blue awning offered some cover, but it shook on its hinges with each gust of wind. I wasn’t sure the awning would hold, so I moved to where the sidewalk was exposed to the storm.
A lady bundled in a scarf was coming toward the door. I’d never panhandled before, but tonight I had no choice. I mumbled, “Excuse me, ma’am. Could you spare some change?” Either she didn’t hear me or didn’t want to help. She brushed past me and entered the coffee shop.
This was going to be tough!
Moving to the side of the building got me out of my dad’s range of vision. He’d flip if he saw me asking for a handout. He always said we would earn our way, even if that meant collecting bottles or returning grocery carts. But there was no time for that right now. I had to find another way. Dad was counting on me.
Another lady approached the door. Come on, I said to myself. You can do this. As she passed me, I forced my head up. “Sorry to bother you,” my breath was shallow as I talked. “Is there any chance you could help me out?” I turned my palms up and looked at the ground again.
“You poor child. It’s freezing out here,” she replied.
“If you have some spare…”
“Of course, dear. You get inside now and warm up.” She dropped a couple of dollars into my open hand.
Since that wasn’t enough, I didn’t follow her inside.
Other than the howling wind, it was quiet. I rubbed my hands together to stay warm. My jacket offered little protection from the frigid cold. After what seemed like an eternity, a man and his wife left the fancy restaurant a few doors down. The wind caught his jacket, blowing it open to show his gray suit. As I approached them, I pushed my pride aside and worked the helpless-kid angle. I must have done it well, because he gave up a crisp five-dollar bill.
Bingo!
Now we could get some food.
Back in the coffee shop, I ordered my dad soup and tea, and a muffin and coffee for myself. I figured I’d better hang on to the rest of the cash so I could stay awake all night. I was going to need a lot of caffeine!
“Oh, that tasted good,” said my dad, while I nibbled on my muffin. “I guess I worked up an appetite during the storm.” He slurped the last of his soup and wiped his unshaven chin with a napkin. Bits of the napkin stuck to the bristle.
“Ah, Dad.” I gestured to his chin. He wiped them away with the back of his hand.
“Aargh.” He grimaced.
He’d used his sore arm. It looked swollen. I should have grabbed a scarf from our tent to make a sling for him. I looked through the stuff I had with me to see what I could use.
“Here, Dad, take my jacket. We’ll use my sleeve to hold your arm up.” It took a few minutes, but I was able to turn my coat into a makeshift sling.
“That’s better,” my dad sighed. He leaned his head back against the wall and rested.
I picked at my muffin and watched the people in the restaurant. There were lots of kids with their parents, picking up meals to take home for the evening.
“So, I did look around today for a place to stay,” Dad said after a while. “Good timing, hey? I tried the shelters again. No change there.”
“What else is new?” I said.
“I’d really hoped I could give you good news. I never meant to let you down…”
“Dad, it’s okay. Right now, let’s focus on you getti
ng better.”
“Yeah. I guess. Listen, I rode out toward Langley, and I found us a spot where we won’t be noticed. There’s only one problem.”
I couldn’t imagine anything worse than the situation we were in. Whatever my dad had planned had to be better than this.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Well, I don’t think you’ll like this part. But I don’t know what else to do. We have to move, and we have to move now. The place I found is nowhere near your school, or any school, for that matter. You’ll have to catch a bus and attend a high school in Langley.”
Ordinarily, this wouldn’t have bothered me. But I liked the classes this school offered.
Besides, Ben’s my best buddy, and I’d just met Inna.
I couldn’t change schools now.
Chapter Twelve
Finally my dad slept, snoring every few moments. I checked on the staff behind the counter. They were too busy gabbing with each other to notice us. I figured it would be safe to go wash. I wanted to get cleaned up before it got busy in the coffee shop. Besides, I was tired of counting how many times the younger staff said, “Like.”
I always have supplies in my backpack. I usually showered and shampooed at school on pe days. When I didn’t have gym, I used this washroom or the one at McDonald’s. Both had a handicapped space that was private. I could sponge-bathe and wash my hair in the sink. I barely needed to shave, so I didn’t have to worry about that every day. I usually brushed my teeth at our site, but today I did everything here.
Just as I was finishing up, the door handle turned.
“It’s busy,” I said. I always stressed when someone needed to use the washroom, like I’d be found out. I finished cleaning up, put on fresh underwear and a clean shirt, then stuffed everything back into my backpack.
When I returned to the table, my dad was awake and looking out the window.
“Hey, Dad. How does your arm feel this morning?”
Living Rough Page 3