Refugee (a Petekey story)

Chapter two

Pete woke up the next morning to the smell of eggs. His stomach grumbled angrily, reminding him of the fact that he had not had a good meal since, well, yesterday morning. Sitting up and looking over to the desk next to him, he saw the glare of a digital clock staring him in the face.

9:30. He hadn't slept that well since Ashlee. It seemed that everything was starting to become better for him in this strange place.

Quickly, he glanced over at the only bed in the room. The two strange boys from yesterday had shared a bed, both not minding. It made him wonder about their relationship to each other. He didn't have anything against gays, but if Mikey was fifteen, then who knew how old these kids were.

Fifteen. He would have to get used to that.

Pete exited the room dressed in the plain t shirt and sweatpants he had found under the sink yesterday. Again, it made him wonder how many people this strange family had invited into their household over the years. For some strange unknown reason, this made Pete wonder just how not- special he was. 

In the kitchen, dressed and making eggs, was a very pregnant woman. She had black hair and a few tattoos on her arms and legs. She also seemed perfectly alright with a stranger standing in her kitchen, staring at her with wide eyes. 

"I'm Lindsey." Her voice was musical and light, almost a complete opposite from Mikey's curt darkness from the night before. "Mikey said there was a new one."

And then she laughed. This strange woman whom Pete had never met before in his life had the audacity to laugh at the fact that he had no home.

A bit rude, really.

"Have some eggs." Cheery. Too cheery for someone had just laughed at the state of someone else's lack of a home. Too cheery for someone who knew nothing.

"No thanks. I should go." He was grabbing his stuff now, his clothes from yesterday (this morning) completely washed and dried. His backpack, sitting in the corner where he had left it. His shoes-

"Mikey was quite insistent that you stay, at least for a little while." For someone who had been so cheery a few seconds before, Lindsey almost sounded like Mikey. She had the authority, the angry smile, and the bribe.

She has his shoes. And with all the rain that had happened last night, and the cracked roads and badly paved streets, Pete would not last long without his shoes.

"So." She rounded the table, coming over to where he was standing. "Have some eggs."

And Pete had no choice but to comply.

"So if Mikey's fifteen, then who owns the apartment?" Pete was questioning the strange woman over some very good eggs, all while praying that his prying wouldn't get back to the man himself who was in charge. But judging from the fact that Mikey had shared the only other room in the apartment with that female, he knew he was stepping on some very thin ice at the moment.

Lindsey didn't seem to have trouble answering, however. "I do, of course. I'm nineteen."

So young. She didn't even look nineteen, she looked like the fifteen year old that Mikey said he was.

"And where's everyone else?" It was easy to see that there was no one else in the apartment. After all, there was only one pair of shoes by the door, seeing as his were stolen.

"Bren is fourteen and Patrick is thirteen. They're both in school right now." Where you should be. The silent question was apparent at the end of that statement, but Pete didn't have the heart to tell her that he no longer had a school. Even if he went back, no one would accept him.

Everyone had heard about Ashlee. Everyone.

"And are they dating?" Every question that he had thought of this morning were bursting to life, overwhelming his senses with the desire to know. "Not that I'm homophobic or anything, but..."

He wanted to know more about this dysfunctional household, this strange place that he felt like he could belong.

Lindsey raised a single eyebrow, questioning Pete silently. But seeing nothing but a desperate look on his face, she seemed to decide to answer honestly. "Yes."

Pete frowned. He had nothing against young love (seeing as he himself was a victim), but wasn't Patrick in eighth grade? Hardly old enough to date. Hardly old enough to know what was right and what was wrong.

As though reading his mind, Lindsey frowned. "Don't ever let anyone in this apartment hear say anything about not being old enough." And it made sense, the claim. This was a house owned by a nineteen year old pregnant girl, with a fifteen year old boy in charge and no longer in school. Plus, the two of them were taking care of two kids that actually were in school. Plus another stray.

But they were still too young. No one should have to do this when they are hardly able to take care of themselves, and that was painfully obvious. No wonder Mikey was so bitter. Who knew how much stress was on his shoulders.

Pete finished his eggs quickly. Not having proper food for 24 hours made people hungry. But watching Lindsey clean up the used plates and utensils made him wonder if everyone else in the household got this type of food for breakfast. He hardly got anything besides cheap cereal for breakfast, and his parents weren't bad off. 

"What do you guys normally eat?" He asked, unsure of how to say the words without sounding insulting. The apartment was fairly clean, but anyone could tell that the people living here were struggling for money. He had slept on the floor last night, for goodness sakes.

Lindsey shrugged, not seeming especially offended by the question. "Whatever we can find, really. At least we aren't like some of the other refugees that have to eat that awful dog food."

It was true. Pete had more than once seen a homeless person at the bus stop scooping out the disgusting mush out of the white can. Power Pup, the label read. And, if the people's reactions to their first bite were anything to go by, it sounded just as good as it tasted.

"We don't get very good food around here." Lindsey said softly, holding her hand to her belly, to the little ball of almost-perhaps life in her stomach. "We make due, but we've been struggling lately." She gave a weak smile and said "But you don't need to hear all that."

Pete felt something inside of him die. Here he was, complaining about not having anywhere to go, when there were people that were struggling just to live. Struggling to live and yet somehow having the courage to bring life into this world. No wonder Mikey and Brendon were so protective of their haven. There were so many smaller different worlds out there in the big scary one, it was nice to have a place to escape.

"I'm going to look for a job." He said, shifting from foot to foot. "I'll be out of your hair soon enough, but you guys need the money." Seeing the angry look on Lindsey's face, he quickly backtracked.

"It's not for pity." He knew how angry pity made people feel. "It's just that I don't want the little one to live in a world in which no one cares."

The little one. The unspoken thought of their entire conversation. The bulge that showed so prominently through the loose shirt.

"So how far is it along?" Lindsey was getting his shoes now, comforted with the knowledge that he would come back. And he would. He was getting attached to this place, this strange apartment with people that didn't really care about anything worldly but the idea of safety and comfort. Things that people tend to throw away.

"She's eight months." About to burst then. For a moment, Pete wondered if it was Mikey's. The boy seemed like he was perfectly capable of taking care of another baby, but something in Pete told him that Mikey was not stupid enough to impregnate someone before being legal. (Something Pete was completely guilty of).

"Alright then." He had his shoes, he had his goal. Now all he needed was the courage to go out there and be a better person than he was.

A better person than the one he was trying to forget.