Runaway (20 page)

I'm in a town that's a lot like the area where Walt and Valerie live. Lots of fields. Lots of farm workers. Broccoli everywhere. The difference is, there are also big areas with shopping malls and auto malls and condominiums. Imagine miles and miles of land cut into a patchwork of farm fields, and scattered throughout the patchwork are cement squares packed from edge to edge with stores or houses or cars. It's like, one by one, the farmers in town are getting tired of tilling the earth and are paving it over instead.

The nice thing is that if you get desperate, you can just go out into the fields at night and eat broccoli or Brussels sprouts or whatever you find out there. I mentioned that to Charlene, one of the women who's living under this overpass, but she snorted and said, “Ferget that. I ain't eatin' no pesticides.” She took a deep drag off her cigarette and smirked at me like I was ignorant beyond belief. “If it'll kill bugs, it'll kill
you.
”

I think I'm going to go scout around.

See if I can find a school.

Lift some books.

Something.

         

A few days later

I left to find a school and I wound up at the movies. It was a spur-of-the-moment backdoor sneak-in, but I've been here for
days
now. It's one of those big multiplex theaters with an upstairs, a downstairs, bathrooms, a video arcade, and a half-mile snack counter.

I've been living off popcorn and soda. At first I scarfed up what people left around after the movie was over, but then I discovered that they give free refills on their “Titanic Tub” and “Colossal Coke,” so I snagged one of each of those off the floor and have been getting refills ever since.

At night I've been sleeping behind a screen in one of the downstairs theaters. Most of the theaters in this multiplex have a screen flat against the wall, but two of them have a door behind the screen that leads to an old-fashioned stage area. Maybe they were the original theaters and the rest of this multiplex was built up around them. I don't know. And really, I don't care! No one ever comes back here, and it's easy to sneak in and out when the lights first come down because everyone's blind for a minute.

It's also cool because I can leave all my stuff back there and pretend to be an everyday moviegoer with nothing to lug around but popcorn and soda.

So I'm actually having fun. I've seen more movies in the last few days than I've seen in my whole life. Ditto on the popcorn! And it's really easy moving around this place. Nobody checks for ticket stubs or says, “Hey, haven't you gotten a bunch of refills already?” There are different people working the snack counter every few hours, so it's like, “Refill? Sure!”

This is the life, man.

         

A few more days later

I got busted by the “manager.” The pimply-faced twerp. I don't think he's old enough to realize I'm too young to be living in a movie theater. Which makes him pretty stupid, but I guess that works out fine for me. He even threw my sleeping bag out after me, with the classic, “And don't you come back!”

Pimply-faced moronic twerp.

Oh, well. I was sick of popcorn, anyway. And stupid movies. And no sunlight.

Now that I'm outside again, there's sunlight but no sun
shine.
It's cloudy. And cold. What happened? You go to the movies and it's summer, you come out and it's fall.

I wonder what day it is.

         

The 25
^th
of October?!?!

No wonder it's cloudy! No wonder it's cold! It's almost NOVEMBER!

Enough fooling around.

I need a plan!

One that'll get me through the winter.

And I need to come up with it quick!

         

4:00 p.m.

I found a school today. A junior high. I didn't go in and lift any books. I'm not ready for that yet. But I did spend a long time hanging around, watching.

Schools here are so weird. There's not one or two main buildings that you go into and then walk interior halls to get to different classrooms. There's a whole bunch of buildings, and the halls are sidewalks. Even the lockers are outside! Maybe that's because they don't get snow here. Or much rain? (I hope.) But it doesn't seem very safe. Anyone (me or, say, your friendly neighborhood pervert) can just walk right onto the school premises. Sure, there's a fence, but it's wide open in front, and there are gaps all around that you can easily squeeze through. And the fence is just chain-link! Anyone can park on the street and watch. I wonder how many kids get abducted around here compared to, say, a place where they can lock kids in.

The flip side of that is that anyone can
leave,
too. I saw kids sneaking out through the back fence, kids smoking cigarettes behind the gym…. The setup is weird. It's like an invitation to be bad.

Oh! Something else weird about this school. Their flagpole has three flags: the American flag on top, the California flag in the middle, and underneath that a flag with a giant bullfrog on it. No kidding! This school's mascot is a
bullfrog.
Who wants to go to a school where perverts can abduct you and your mascot is a bullfrog?

Not me.

         

Next day (October 26
^th
)

I went back to the overpass last night, and as I was pulling my sleeping bag out of my backpack, Charlene started giving me the third degree about where I'd been. When I didn't give much of an answer, she said, “You think you're better than us, is that it? Shoulda known when I seen your fancy beddin'.” She sneered. “But you're back again, ain'tcha? Here you are, back again.” She hiked her blanket up over her shoulder and turned away from me, half singing, “You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave….”

I didn't like the way that sounded.

I didn't like it at all.

The rest of them, though, thought it was hilarious.

         

7:30 p.m. Holed up in a McDonald's

I wandered back over to that school today. Just sat in the tall grass and watched. I don't know why I did it. Pretty lame, I guess.

It may only be a junior high, but kids seem a lot older than they did in elementary school. A lot more intimidating. (I wouldn't have thought that was possible, but it's true.) They dress a lot tougher, they
act
a lot tougher. Plus, the school itself looks sort of somber (except for the silly bullfrog flag). There's no playground equipment. No swings, no slides, no jungle gyms, no four-square courts…They do have basketball hoops and a couple of walls for handball, but I didn't see anyone using them. I guess kids think it's cooler to hang with their friends and act tough.

I hiked around town afterward, looking for a better place to crash tonight. There's an enclosed mall with bushes all around it, but the police station is real close by and cop cars seemed to be everywhere. And it's getting dark so early now. My safe zone (the time between school letting out and nightfall) is so short. I'll try again tomorrow, but tonight I'll have to go back to the overpass.

         

Wednesday the 27
^th

I walked from one end of this town to the other. It's actually a very boring, generic-looking town. Most of the buildings are one-or two-story stucco or block. Not a lot of trees (mostly scraggly pines that are tilted from standing in the wind). No parks or fountains or green spaces. Just fields and roads and stores.

Before I tell you the big thing that happened today, let me tell you about some of the places I discovered:

Place of interest #1: Cece's Thrift Store. It was full of total junk, but what made it sort of interesting was Cece, the woman who runs it. Picture piles of scarves and dangly bracelets on a homeless person. That's what she looks like! She's totally weathered and tough but dresses like a genie. I'd taken all of three steps inside the store when she growled, “Don't even think you can shoplift from me.”

“Huh?” I said, because I couldn't believe anyone would have the guts to be that direct.

“You heard me,” she said. But then she added, “Now if you want to barter, that's another story.” She nodded at my backpack. “Whatcha haulin'?”

“Uh, nothing,” I told her.

She snorted. “Then you won't mind leavin' it here.”

“Huh?” I said again.

“Leave your overstuffed sack of nothing here.” She pointed to a sign that read:

CHECK BAGS, BACKPACKS, AND OVERSIZE PURSES AT THE COUNTER

“You know what?” I said. “I'll just come back later.”

She laughed out loud, jangled a wave, and turned her back.

         

Place of interest #2: The library. It's okay. Almost medium-size. But I've never met a meaner children's librarian. I didn't give her a chance to snap at me, but the way she treated some of the other kids? Bite their heads off, why don't you? Never seen anything like it in a librarian.

So I borrowed a paperback (uh, that's
gypsy
borrowing). I was trying to avoid the security guard by sneaking out the back door, but instead I ran into a
real
cop. My heart about exploded, but he didn't pay any attention to me. He was on his way to City Hall, which is right next door to the library (and, it turns out, right up the street from the police station).

         

Place of interest #3 (and this is the REAL place of interest): A soup kitchen! I saw a group of bums sprawled on the grass in front of a gray wooden building and thought, What's this? Why are these guys lounging on a lawn right across from the courthouse? (Which, by the way, is on the
other
side of the police station, which is why bums hanging around surprised me.)

But then I saw
Charlene
coming down the building's ramp. It took me a minute to get over seeing her someplace besides the overpass, but then I noticed that she had
food.
A sandwich, a juice box, a bag of chips…shelter-style food.

I crossed the street and ran up to her, saying, “Charlene, wait up!”

When she saw it was me, she frowned. “What do you want?”

“Can you get me a sandwich, too?”

She snorted. “Go get your own!”

I let her walk away a few steps but then caught up to her. “Why didn't you tell me there was a soup kitchen?”

She did a mock inspection of her food, saying, “Soup? Do you see any soup? I don't see any soup.”

“You know what I mean!” I whispered. “Why didn't you tell me?”

She smirked. “And ruin your healthy diet of pesticides?” Then she laughed and walked away.

I was so steamed I almost shouted, You heartless loser! We may sleep under the same bridge, but I will never be like you! I'm going to make something of myself! I'm going to do good in this world, and be good to this world, and I swear I will never,
ever
be like you.

I didn't say it, though. I kept it all inside. Steaming, hot and angry inside.

I found the soup kitchen.

I got my sandwich and juice.

I walked to the outskirts of town, where I sat on the bank of a broccoli field and thought. And thought. And thought. And this is what I've decided:

I am
not
going back to the overpass.

I
am
going to make a home for myself. I've done enough spinning my wheels. It's time to figure out a way to
do
it.

I
am
going to teach myself math and science and history, and maybe even art or music.

I
am
going to do good and be good, and someday, someway, I
will
become a veterinarian.

I swear on my mother's grave, I will.

FORGED

What's left to take from the broken?

Or…what can the broken repair!

I am the steel

Life is the flame

Time is the endless hammer clanging

What's to become of me now?

Or…what shall I now become!

I am the steel

Life is the flame

Time is the endless hammer clanging

What final blow will break me?

Or…what will my new form defeat!

I am the steel

Life is the flame

Time is the endless hammer clanging

         

November 1
^st

I have been a busy, busy bee! No time for journaling, I've been building a house! I'm not kidding! I am so excited I can hardly stand it!!!

First I found a really great place to set up camp. It's a soft, sandy area with lots of shrubs and tall grasses, and it's near a wide, dried-up riverbed. There's not one single drop of water anywhere around here, and from the way things are growing in the riverbed, I think it must have been ages and ages since water flowed through it. The good thing is that I'm isolated but not too far from the soup kitchen.

Next I found a big cardboard box. Don't laugh. Cardboard works great for protection from wind, sun, and cold. Street people use cardboard all the time, and bum alleys are like little cardboard cities. The houses in bum alleys are just shanties or lean-tos, though. They're nothing like my house! Mine is deluxe! It's a big, thick, supersturdy refrigerator box that I found behind an appliance store. I ripped off the tape and took out the big staples, collapsed it, and hauled it clear out here to the riverbed. (It was a small miracle that no cops stopped me, but they didn't.)

That took me all day. Then for the past few days I've been busy building! I leveled the ground (with a flat rock, my hands, and my feet), then went back to town and got some construction supplies (like packing tape and Hefty sacks).

On my building site I laid down a Hefty sack (to keep moisture from the ground from seeping into the cardboard), reassembled the box, and put it on top of the Hefty sack. Then I covered the top of the box with two Hefty sacks and camouflaged the whole thing with tumbleweeds.