Rolling Stone Savior. (Discontinued)

Chapter Three

The bustling streets with their blowing car horns and loud pedestrians woke me up. I dashed up from my god-sent mattress in fear—I had been waking up like that for some time now. The air was thick with the smell of cigarette smoke and garbage.

I rolled over to see that some of the bag that the food was in was chipped away, probably by a mouse. But the container the food was in was untouched. I rubbed my eyes and sighed. Being a homeless teenager wasn’t a good situation to wake up to.

At least I wasn’t lonely, though. An older black man in dirty clothing had materialized across the park. He was asleep, snoring like a pig. I stood up off the mattress to stretch my legs, and then he woke up suddenly with fear just as I had.

“You have a lot of food. I saw it last night. My kitten was trying to eat it, but I wouldn’t let him.” He said, his voice raspy and dry. I looked over at my food and back at him. He had a little squirming mouse in his hands.

“Where’s your kitten?” I asked him.

“Right here.” He said, motioning to the mouse.

“Sir, that’s not a kitten. That’s a mouse.” I said slowly. He laughed loudly at me.

“This is a kitten, stupid.” He laughed louder.

I decided to take my bags and leave the park for a little while, at least until it got dark. I roamed the streets aimlessly. What could I do? I had to figure out how my life was going to play out from this point on. Of course, I could stay in Monterrey Park to die. But did I want it to end that way? I mean, I finally got what I wanted. I finally got out of the evil grip of my parents. But now that I got what I wanted, I’d rather be in my warm bed at home than out here.

At least it was sunny. Cold, but sunny. I didn’t like the business of the streets though. This would be much easier if I was in a desolate area. But as a matter of fact, maybe I would go crazy if this place was deserted. Maybe I would feel like the only human being on Earth, and resort to suicide.
Just as I tiredly stumbled along the pavement, I saw a long line of people gathered. Happy to be engaged in something, I walked further to the line until I saw that it was a church. There was a big sign indicating that pantries were being held on Monday mornings. Today was Monday?

I quickly stood on the line, enjoying the opportunity for free food. The wait seemed to be a drag, though. The line moved at snail speed and I was on the verge of giving up until a girl emerged from the church doors with a shopping cart full of groceries. She was a Spanish-looking girl, about my age. She pushed her cart toward my direction, and paused when she saw me.

“Didn’t you used to go to my school?” She asked. Then it was all coming back to me—she was a distant girl in school, just like I was. But she disappeared about a month ago. I was silent for a second as I got a good look at her. She didn't look like anything was wrong with her. Her weight was perfect, she looked clean, and she looked happy.

“I think so. My name is Stephanie.” I replied, squinting to look at her under the sun.

“Yeah, I know. I’m Abigail. You’re homeless, right? Looking for food?” Abigail asked. I nodded. She motioned for me to follow her, so I hesitantly left the line and joined her stride down the block. She rambled on to me about how she left because her mother was a drug addict, but I couldn’t get over the amount of food in her cart.

“Isn’t there a limit to the amount of food you’re supposed to take from church pantries?” I asked, unintentionally interrupting her story. She shrugged.

“I don’t know. But anyway, why did you leave?” Abigail questioned me. She stared at me, burning a hole into my face until I was bold enough to answer her.

“My parents were abusive.” I mumbled. I had never really told anyone about my situation, because no one ever bothered to ask. Now that I was doing it for the first time, it was really uncomfortable. My body shuddered at the remembrance of what I used to go through daily.

“So where have you been squatting all these days?” Abigail asked. Squatting? Does she mean sleeping? Hmph, must be homeless talk.

“It hasn’t been that many days. But I found a nice spot by Monterrey Park. I have a mattress and everything.” I replied.

Abigail nodded thoughtfully. “Well, the place I’m at doesn’t have a mattress. I have everything else, though. A window, accessible food, security, and a roof over my head. Instead of a mattress, I use the seats of a car.”

By the look on her face, I could tell I was supposed to take this as an offer. So I agreed to follow Abigail to her nest. I went back to the park first to see if I’d left anything there besides the mattress. The old man was gone, and so was the mattress. I shrugged it off, since I had a better place to stay, and headed toward Abigail’s place.   It was in the back of the mall. Abigail’s little home was right across from the mall’s parking lot, behind a gate that read ‘Loading Bay 4’. The gate was open all day and night for deliveries, so she was always able to come in and out. We walked in and travelled to the far back. We walked so far in the bay that I was starting to doubt that Abigail had a good place to stay at all. But then I saw a row of seats. They looked like they were ripped out from a car. The seats were lying on the floor with a pillow on top of them.

On one side of the seats was a little window that gave view of the calmer side of the street, away from the mall. On the other side was a vending machine.

“You like it?” Abigail smiled as she plopped down on the seats. I sat beside her slowly.

“Yeah, it’s nice. You mentioned security, though.” I replied.

“There’s a security guard always walking around in the front. If something happens back here, all I have to do is scream.”

I was impressed. I didn’t think Abigail had it in her to put something like this together. She didn’t seem like that type of girl in school. But now, I was kind of embarrassed for not getting used to the homeless life like she did.

We didn’t talk for a while. Abigail just pulled out some peanut butter cookies from her cart of goodies, while I munched on a portion of the food from the kind lady I met. I could see her eyeing my food every now and then.

“Where’d you get that?” She asked after a while.

“A restaurant not too far from the place I used to sleep.” I answered.

“How much did it cost?”

I couldn’t let Abigail know how much money I had. I couldn’t let anyone know, since I didn’t trust anyone. “It cost me all that I had.” I lied. I couldn’t tell if Abigail knew I was lying or not, but she seemed satisfied with my response.

“You’ll have to take me there one day, Steph. That food looks good.”

I smiled in response. Not at what she said, but at the whole idea of this. Even though I was in a very, very bad situation, I managed to find a friend. Abigail was my very first friend. I was happy to have met her in a desperate time of need like this.  

“Maybe I will.” I said. 

  I smiled for a moment, but it dropped when I thought back on my parents. They've never made me feel this warm. Everything with them was always cold and empty. Everything with them was pale and gray; no emotion or love whatsoever. Now that I think about it, I'm actually a little glad that I decided to make this decision. It might hurt now, but nothing hurts forever.   

I will no longer hurt forever.  

Things were picking up.