Chapter 3

Animal

Fourteen Years Earlier

The trick to getting food out of the trash at school was mumbling about how you tossed out your homework if anyone walked by. I was supposed to have a hot lunch provided by the school. My foster “parents” were out of town. Honestly, I liked it better that way. I was biding my time.

They were assholes. They got a check for supporting me, and they shot that into their arms. I saw it all. And I didn’t have to ’fess up to my social worker. Because she was so swamped with work, actually dealing with the kids on her list was a rare treat for her.

I could avoid the “parents”.

I felt someone bump my elbow. Probably ready to bust me for dumpster diving. I had a million excuses on the tip of my tongue and the chip on my shoulder sharpened to a point, but her brown eyes brought me back.

She passed me a chocolate chip muffin tightly wrapped in plastic. I took it and pushed it into the pocket of the jacket I rarely took off.

“You boosted this?”

My girl T was trouble. Thick black eyeliner and a sneer kept her safe from everyone but me. But she’d let me in and I’d never hurt her.

She lifted her chin at me, letting me know I’d guessed correctly.

“Shit, girl, you’re gonna get your ass caught.”

She almost smiled. The black fingernail polish added to the mystery and she touched the upside down star pendant she wore on a chain around her neck. She was giving me her excuse, not saying anything. T was spoken about in hushed whispers. She was a witch maybe. A Satan worshipper definitely.

None of it was true. T was homeless. She used the other kids’ imaginations to enforce the distance she craved.

She bragged that she was invisible, and maybe she was right. She was a good thief.

She knew my deal, and I knew hers. We tried to watch each other’s back. It was hard, though. We were tied to separate rafts in the middle of a monsoon.  We were trying to survive.

“They getting closer to getting you locked down?” I stepped near her beat-up Converses.

Her eyes glazed over and her lips made an O.

She was a runner. Some people couldn’t take locked doors. T wanted an open door or a cracked window. When she was locked in, she started dying—so she said anyway.

I’d offered to mention her to my caseworker in the past. I wouldn’t make that mistake again. The answer had been a firm no. She had a mother. One she didn’t want to discuss. Undeniably, something about it wasn’t working.

After hanging her head so her thick hair could swing over half of her face, she poked at the pocket holding the muffin with her index finger.

She wanted me to eat now. My stomach grumbled. I’d had the cheese sandwich I was given at the cafeteria. The foster parents were arrears in payment to the school so that was all I could get on the menu. I got the poor man’s meal.

Shit, I was just thirteen, but even I knew that signaling out kids who couldn’t pay for lunch with the goddamn cheese sandwich was cruel bullshit. Cheese gave me wicked gas on top of it all, so I threw the cheese out and ate the bread.

I knew she wouldn’t stop picking at me until she saw me swallow some food. I rolled my eyes at her and heard her snicker in response. I unwrapped the muffin in my pocket and broke off a bit. I had to be stealthy. The cafeteria manager, Ms. Dadish, didn’t like me. If she saw me eating, she’d know I had food I shouldn’t. Like her job was to slap a cheese sandwich onto my tray, and also make sure it was the only thing that crossed my lips for lunch.

I watched as T tried to make her slight form bigger to provide a shield. I palmed the food and put it between my lips. T watched my mouth move. It made her happy to help me. I allowed that. She was the only one that got this me. The walls-down, chip-laid-at-my-feet, ready-to-smile Animal.

I looked past the top of her head and made eye contact with the manager. I stopped chewing and watched as her eyes narrowed. I bent my head and leaned down as if T had said something. I bopped my head up and down as if agreeing, using the time to swallow the bite half-chewed. I all but choked, but was able to get the lump down my throat.

It was time to go. T and I had to walk in different directions. Our rafts crashed into each other’s in the monsoon once in a while. It was brief, but it was a connection we both valued.

She was homeless, and I was hungry. We were surrounded by shiny-faced kids that seemed like they lived in a different dimension. I had to stop before clearing the cafeteria door to let a kid step ahead of me to dump their lunch into the trash. Their whole lunch. Uneaten.

A beautiful sandwich. A goddamn pudding cup with a plastic spoon. That was all I could make out. My fingers itched to snatch it up. A homemade lunch, prepared with love, by a mom. I could feel the heat of Ms. Dadish’s glare on the back of my neck. I took my eyes off the prize and straightened my posture. I’d walk out, head high. I was long past crying in this life, but I felt my nose burn. I wanted that lunch.

I went without it.