Desperate Measures (A Kit Kittredge Movie/Will Shepard Fanfiction)

Chapter Four: Naive and Negative

The rest of the school day, my mind was occupied with how I could help the other people at Will's camp. Obviously, we have my sister and I's old clothes, which I'd have to ask my mom about before donating them. But I also had boxes full of old toys, dolls, and stuffed animals that I guarantee the other kids would adore.

I ended up opening my notebook and making the list of all the ways I thought I could help out, starting with making another batch of cookies. I even began to wonder if Will would take me to his camp for a visit so I could ask them all directly what they needed, when someone suddenly set something down on the corner of my desk. I glanced over to see an apple, looking over at the source to see, who else, but Charlie Stevens. 

"My Grandpa sent a whole crate of them down from his orchard," He explained, "They're incredible so, I thought you might like one."

I offered him a polite smile.

"Thanks, Charlie." I said, looking back to my list. 

"I tried to call you the other day," He continued, "Your mother said you weren't home."

"I volunteer at a soup kitchen during my free time." I answered, not looking up at him again. 

"Oh." He said. I furrowed my eyebrows, looking up at him.

"Oh?" I repeated. He paused, his smile faltering slightly.

"Yeah...its just, my dad doesn't really believe in soup kitchens," He continued, "He says that the way the government is pouring money and resources into feeding the homeless is the reason that we're in a depression."

"They didn't cause the depression. They're victims of it." I corrected. "You think these people wouldn't love to have jobs and be able to provide for their families?"

"I'm not disagreeing with you! I'm just telling you what he says." He said with a shrug. "I didn't mean to upset you or anything."

"I'm not upset." I said with a shrug. I paused, whirling around to look at him. "Did you say a whole crate of Apples?"

"Yeah. Its huge. My mother doesn't even know what we're going to do with them all. She's kind of stressed out about it actually."

"Do you think she'd be willing to part with a few?" I asked.

"Willing? I think she'd get my grandmother's wedding ring out of the safe and demand that I propose to you on the spot." He corrected. I smiled, turning and writing down 'Apples' on the list. "What are you working on, anyway?"

"A list," I stated, "We've got a couple of hobo boys doing some work for us at the house, in exchange for food. They live at one of those Hobo camps, so I'm trying to come up with ways I can help them out. Food, old clothes, toys, that kind of thing."

"You're just giving away your stuff? To hobos?" He questioned. 

"Well yeah. Its stuff that I don't need and stuff that they would kill for. It only makes sense, doesn't it?"

"But that's kind of the problem, isn't it?" He asked. "Not only 'would' they kill for it, they do, and you're just inviting them into your house and giving it away? Don't your parents realize how dangerous that is?"

"They're not dangerous," I defended, "They're perfectly polite, perfectly helpful young men who just need a little help. There's nothing wrong with wanting to help them out." He furrowed his eyebros at me.

"Is this why you won't go out with me?" He asked. "You've got a hobo boyfriend waiting for you back home?"

"No, I don't," I shot back, "But even if I did, I hardly see how that's any of your business."