Cricket: Ember's Story

Threes

Two days after Hex lost her baby, I'm downtown helping West shop for a birthday present for his roommate. We're walking through some huge vintage book and record store and talking about how I snitched on Gus.

"You did the right thing," West tells me.

"What if I've sent him to something worse than this?" I ask.

"Worse than being a 15-year-old homeless prostitute addicted to drugs in the middle of a Chicago winter? What, pray tell, can be worse?" West asks.

"Well when you put it like that-"

"Seriously. What can be worse?" he repeats, wandering off in the direction of some old records.

"Someone using their power over you," I say.

"To what?"

"Rape you. Abuse you. Kill you. Getting your power stripped from you is the worst thing that can happen. My friend, Hex, told me once that having your power taken away messes you up in the head. She's right."

West nods. "That's true. I guess there's a lot of things I never worry about because I'm a guy and can take care of myself. There's a lot of dangers I don't even have to think about."

"At least you admit it. Most guys like to pretend men are safe and won't admit or accept that girls have these fears every single day," I say.

"You gotta be careful. Guard yourself. Learn self defense."

"Hex taught me a little. I'm getting better at it," I say.

"You've had to use it?" West asks worriedly, pausing to look at me.

The truth is I've used it twice. One was when a dude refused to pay upfront but then wouldn't let me out of the car. Pretty sure he can't have kids now. Then, there was a guy who was being way too rough and when I told him he amped it up and was even rougher. Pretty sure he got to taste his own balls. I was proud of myself after both of those times. Even Hex says I've become a bit of a badass.

"Not too often. I stay safe," I say.

"I guess prison was a lot like being homeless," West says thoughtfully.

"Why?"

He shrugs. "You can't trust anyone, might get attacked at any point, showers are awkward, it's loud, it smells, the food sucks and you never get a good night's sleep."

I laugh. "Spot on. When were you ever homeless though?"

"A year or so before Adia died. My dad said I could choose drugs or him. I chose drugs," he says.

"My mom gave me that ultimatum. Only the drug was Jesse."

"Have you talked to her since you took off?" West asks.

"No. She probably forgot all about me," I mumble.

"How do you know if you never talk to her?"

This conversation is starting to make me uncomfortable. That's why I'm glad when West exclaims,

"Oh my God!"

"What?" I ask.

He holds up a record. "Guns N' Roses Appetite for Destruction on vinyl!"

"Your favorite band?"

"One of 'em. I'm getting this."

"I thought we were shopping for your roommate."

"We are... sort of. He lives under the same roof so he can also enjoy the dulcet tones of Welcome to the Jungle," he says.

I shake my head. "Yeah, no. That's not how presents work."