Cricket: Ember's Story

Things

The next few days are hungry days. We had food stored in the house's kitchen, but we can't go back for it yet, if it's still there at all. Those guys were there again last time we went to check, and hope is running out that we'll ever get our home back.

We've been hanging out in the subway tunnels, me and Jesse begging for cash and everyone else turning tricks or whatever jobs we can do. The thing is I should be grateful. It's late summer and just kind of getting cool outside. Temps in the 70's and 80's. Nice as hell. It could be winter, and we'd be fucking dead if it was, no choice but to hit up the shelters or youth centers, both of which are tickets back to foster care for the others.

But being on the streets in summer is its own kind of hell. The worst part is the bugs, which are brought on by the other worst part: your nasty-ass sweaty self. If we sleep on the concrete under the bridge for example, it's a whole creepy-crawler club scene. You can feel everything skittering on you and after awhile it's pointless to flick them off. I can't even believe there was a time when I was scared of bugs crawling on me. The mosquitoes in particular are demons. All of us are covered in bites. I've raked the top off about half a dozen, and now I'm all scabbed up and bleeding when I scratch.

People are gathering around waiting for the next train. Jesse's begging this guy for some food, not even money right now, which tells me how hungry he really is. When a junkie would rather have food, you know things are bad. The guy ignores him and keeps walking.

I look around for the others. Hex scored a trick a few minutes ago and is probably getting fucked over a bathroom sink. Adam is trying to do the same to this fat business guy. Gus is standing off to the side, holding his dog by the tail in one hand and the other hand scratching at a bite on his neck.

"What about him?" I hear the fat man ask.

Adam looks over his shoulder at Gus. "What about him?" he asks.

"He part of the deal?"

"Not if he don't wanna be," Adam says protectively.

"Come here, kid," the fat man says, ignoring Adam.

Gus looks up and steps forward, and the man has him turn around in a circle, and I can see Adam seething with rage, and I am too. Gus has that blank, vacant look. His soul has already left his body. The man pulls at the frayed waistband of his jeans.

"Skinny little fucker ain't you?" he says, and Gus doesn't reply. "You boys got Stids?"

That means STD's, and luckily none of us can say we've experienced that. Condoms are non-negotiable, as important as food and water to us. I mean, just look what happens if we don't use them! Two pregnancies in the same damn year.

"No," Adam says.

"Lice?"

"No."

"Anything else I'll take home to my wife?"

"No."

"I'll take you both," the fat man says.

"You didn't ask him. His name is Gus. Look him in the eye, use his name and ask him or fuck off," Adam says through gritted teeth.

"Okay," Gus says, waking up and nodding at Adam with some life in his eyes.

The fat man doesn't ask, and Adam looks pissed, but we all know some hills aren't worth dying on.

"And not for that price," Adam says.

They negotiate back and forth, and this black rage is just boiling and roiling inside of me, and I think about pushing that fat, pervert, pedophile, piece of shit bastard in front of the next train and watching him explode like an engorged mosquito. I must actually step forward to do it, because I feel Jesse suddenly yank my arm.