Winter
As the snow began to fall more frequently, freezing temperatures filled the air, forcing me to bundle up in my jacket and beanie and gloves, wearing two to three layers of shirts each day. My legs were stiff, and my fingers were tomato red. As soon as it got this cold the very first night, I used my hand warmers, which were great and all, but I wished I had saved them for later when it got even colder. As I walked down the street, I plopped myself down by a stop sign, hoping my feet would feel better from walking with all the thick or slushy snow on the ground. My hands were blistering once again, which was no surprise. My back was killing me from constantly bearing the weight of that gruelingly heavy bag.
I cupped my hands around my mouth and blew into them hard, feeling my hot breath just barely through my gloves. With every breath, a small fog formed around my mouth, and I realized I was probably going to freeze to death just sitting there so I stood up and made my way toward the town again in search of shelter. DJ's old place was drenched in snow, so that was a no-go. I spotted a small alleyway that was still open and had a covering above it that kept snow from getting inside. I quickly shoved my hands into my wet jacket pockets and shuffled over toward the alleyway.
I felt a heavy relief as I got my heavy wet boots out of the snow. I found a nice little spot behind a dumpster and sat down, trying to warm myself up. Sitting behind a dumpster certainly wasn't my proudest moment, but I had to get my body heat raised higher. And it sure reeked, but it was better than being out there in the snow. I felt something brush against my leg and assumed the worst. Was it a large rat? I braced myself and looked down to see that thankfully it was just a cat looking for some kind of affection. I slowly lowered my hand and rubbed it gently down its back. It purred, then spun around and laid right against my leg. I didn't really care; the cat was warm after all.
I really wished I had my emergency blanket, but that was pointless in thinking about. I pulled the pocket watch from my pocket and checked the time. It was only four p.m. and I had been in desperate need of sleep. I sighed and leaned my head to the side against the brick wall. It would get dark soon, and then I had no idea what I was going to do. My bike was stashed with me as well, I forgot to mention. At this point my blood was the only warm thing in my body, and I felt like my insides were freezing, as if they weren't already frozen.
I certainly wasn't going to stay by this disgusting dumpster long, that was the one thing I was sure about. At least... I hoped not. Suddenly the cat jumped, followed by the sound of a loud metallic creaking. The cat disappeared around the corner of the dumpster, and I lowered my head to the sound of footsteps. Not very heavy footsteps, but not tiny ones either. A dog maybe? No. A person? A small person? Possibly.
I didn't allow curiosity to get the best of me and kept still. I kept to myself as someone approached the side of the dumpster. I paused and stayed incredibly silent as the lid flew open, and a fat trash bag was flung inside. Meow. I saw the person's feet from underneath the dumpster turn towards the cat. The cat had come back and was only a foot away from where I was sitting. "Fluffles? How did you get outside?" a young, caring voice asked. The person leaned down to grab the cat and her head appeared from behind the dumpster, and then we locked eyes, and it got awkwardly silent. It was a girl, with long hair and blue eyes. She was dressed in a really thick pink winter coat and looked warm.
Neither of us said anything. Instead, we just sort of creepily stared at each other. Finally, she managed to catch herself and spoke. "H-hello," she said in a sort of surprised voice. I gave a faint wave, and she looked around, again with a puzzled expression on her face. "What are you doing out here?" she asked. What does it look like? "Uh..." I couldn't bring myself to formulate a response. There was no answer except the truth. "I'm a runaway," I finally started. The girl paused, then spun around and looked at the door she had come from. "I'll be right back," she said. Then, she turned and disappeared from around the dumpster, and I just sat there, stumped.
Should I run? Should I stay? I wasn't sure if I should go or wait. Before I made possibly the wrong decision, she came back and told me that if I wanted to come inside, it would be okay. She also said not to worry, and that she hadn't mentioned that I was a homeless boy. Not the term I preferred to use, but whatever. I didn't know what to do, but when she said if I wanted to come inside, I could, she really meant come inside, you have no choice. She reached down and grabbed me by the hand before yanking me up onto my feet. I was still stiff and awkward, then I gave up and slowly walked into the doorway.
YOU ARE READING
The Drifter
AdventureExplore with 15-year-old Joel Thatcher as he struggles through the hardships of his household, eventually leading to his prolonged journey in an effort to cross the state of California in search of a new, better home, journeying from a small town in...