Compromised (21 page)

“W
e better try to get out of Boise today, okay?” Nicole says. We're sitting on a park bench staring at a lake. I'm sure if it weren't for the fact that I feel like Klon's road kill semirevived, I'd actually think it was pretty. “So where to, Jeops?”

I don't know where to go to find Sarah Jones in the U.S.

“C'mon, Jeops. Think about the letters. There's gotta be something.”

I pull out the box and go through the letters one by one, looking for any return address label. I empty the box and run my fingers along the sides and bottom. Under the lip, stuck to the side, I feel something, and pull up the lip. Stuck to it is a return address label. Everything's faded,
though. “Hand me your glasses.”

She gives them to me, and I look through them, trying to make out the letters—anything. A tear drips down my nose onto the box. Nicole pulls it away. “C'mon, Jeops. We'll feel better after we eat. Don't smudge our only next clue.”

My stomach growls. After another forty minutes of walking, we finally find the church. And they're out of soup. The guy says there's another soup kitchen—across town.

“Where?” I ask.

“You know. Near the Basque museum. It's a nice museum, too,” he says.

Nicole glares at him. “You've been inhaling too much incense. A museum?”

“A little culture,” he says, and mumbles something else under his breath.

I refrain from mentioning we've got all the culture we need on our bodies. Ugh.

I take out the tourist map we got at some office while wandering around. I think that maybe pre–running away I should've probably come up with a learn-to-read-maps procedure. I find the Basque museum. It looks far.

“Where are we?” Nicole asks, looking at the map.

I shrug. “Around here. I'm pretty sure. But I think we should try to get to a library before leaving Boise. Maybe we'll get more clues.” I look around. The neighborhoods have started to blend together.

“And muffins,” says Klondike.

“So which way do we go to find a library?” Nicole asks.

“I think this way,” I say. And we walk. We have nothing else to do. We can't just sit and freeze on the streets. Water from puddles sloshes up the holes in my shoes. At first I tried to dodge the puddles. But we're in Boise—the puddle capital of the United States or something. I look at the tourist map. It says, “City of Trees.”

I look around. There are definitely more puddles.

We sit in a forgotten park surrounded by run-down brick houses. A big change from the manicured lawns and pretty homes we just walked by. Tufts of crabgrass poke through loose gravel. A rusty swing set teeters in the wind. I stare at the map. “I don't know if I've been looking at it right.”

I hand the map to Nicole. “Well don't ask me,” she says. “I sure as hell can't read it.” She squints, crumples it up, and throws it in the snow.

I pick it up and wipe off the damp dirt. “What'd you do that for?” I ask.

“What good's a map if you can't read it?” she asks.

“I don't know,” I say. “I just thought—”

Klondike has leaned back and fallen asleep in the gravel.

“He doesn't look too good,” I say. I pat my pocket with information about the shelter. Just one night, I think. Maybe we can go for one night.

“Maybe,” Nicole says. “Maybe we should hole up a day or two. Let him rest.”

“Yeah.” I nod. “We can go to that Path of Light Home.”

“No way. We'll find Rhodes, get some meds. We'll be just fine without a bunch of Jesus freaks giving us a place to sleep.”

“Well we spent the afternoon looking for soup from Jesus freaks. What's the difference?” I ask.

“Soup is soup. Shelter is obligation and getting reported to social services, and going back to where we started. You want that?”

Yes. I think. Suddenly Don and Cherry don't seem so awful. I can't imagine foster care being worse than this. Ever. Maybe I can look for Aunt Sarah from Don and Cherry's house. A phone. Internet…probably should've thought of that before all this.

“Klon.” Nicole jerks him awake. “Wake up. Come lie
down here.” She leads him to one of those cement tubes. I didn't think they were allowed in parks anymore—safety regulations and all. I clean out the spiderwebs and leaves from the bottom of the cement tunnel and help Klon scoot in.

Nicole pulls off her last sweatshirt and hands it to him. We both keep our coats. We need them. “Put that on,” I say, “under your coat.”

“Let's find Rhodes—where the others hang out. We'll be safer with others,” Nicole says.

I haven't come up with a hypothesis. I feel like a hack scientist. We're just reacting now. There's no method to what we're doing. It's all basic. Instinct. And it's not working.

“We're in Boise, Cappy. How bad can it get?” I ask. It wasn't like Boise was on the U.S. top dangerous city lists.

“We could be in—where is Dorothy from?”

“Kansas.”

“Exactly. Anywhere is bad at night. People are bad,” Nicole says. “Or did you miss out on that ‘don't talk to strangers' lecture in grade school? It's safer in numbers. Trust me. Plus the kids at Rhodes will have information we need.”

“Like what?” I ask. I hardly think any of them are
pediatric pulmonary specialists. “And what about Klon? We can't just leave him.” I look over, and he has already fallen back to sleep. I touch his head and his face is burning.

“He's too tired to come with us. He'll be better off here, sleeping. We'll get some medicine, okay? And we'll find Rhodes and the others. When we do, we'll come back for him. Then we'll use the worry doll money to go back to Rhodes in a bus.” She holds the worry dolls in her hand.

“What makes you think we can even find Rhodes? It took us almost an hour to find a church that already ran out of soup.”

“We've already walked by Rhodes. We just have to go where Charity, Baghdad, and Mario went—when we split up.”

“And you remember where that was?” I ask. It feels like it was years ago. I wonder if runaway time is warped—just endless minutes.

“Pretty much. As long as we stay to these same streets, I think we'll be okay.”

“Okay,” I say. We shake Klon back awake. “We're going to find somewhere to stay, Klon. And get you some
medicine.” I hand him the box. “Don't croak if anyone comes by here, okay?”

Klondike nods, twitches, and lets out a massive croak. “Promise you'll come back?”

“We promise. We stick together,” Nicole says.

He clutches my jacket between his fingers. “You promise you'll come back?” he asks again.

“We'll be back.” I pry his fingers loose. “We'll find food and medicine.” I hold my hand to his forehead. Every time he coughs, a little bit of blood comes up with phlegm. “Don't move. We'll come back for you.”

“I won't—asswipes. Don't be long.” He blows on his fingers and curls up in the cement tube. I wish we had more to keep him warm, but there was nothing else.

“Klon?”

He looks up at me.

“If people come around—” I look around.

Nicole points. “There. There are some trees over there. If you have to move or go pee or something, you do it there. But don't go far.”

“Come back,” Klon says. “I don't want to be alone.”

“We'll be back before you wake up,” I say. “I promise.”

Klon nods and closes his eyes. Asleep already.

“Ready?” I turn to Nicole.

“You know where we are?” Nicole peers over my shoulder.

I look at the map of Boise again. “Yeah. Here.”

“You don't sound so sure.”

“I'm almost sure.”

“Okay. Let's find Rhodes and get something for Klon.”

“P
ay attention to the area. So we know how to get back easy.” I tuck the map into my inside coat pocket.

“I am.”

“Look for markers, you know? And I'll look at the street names.”

“Okay.”

“God, I wish I was a homing pigeon.”

Nicole stares at me. “Of all the things you could be in the world right now and you want to be a fucking pigeon. I can't wait to hear this one, Jeops.”

I just need something to make sense right now. Everything's spiraled out of control, but homing pigeons—they make sense. So I talk. “You know, they've been used to send messages from the time of Genghis Kahn. They're the
most reliable messengers in the world—pre–World Wide Web, of course. Scientists think that they either use the earth's magnetic field for orientation or spatial distribution and atmospheric odors. How cool is that? It would be like us being able to find our way back to Klon just by sniffing.”

Nicole inhales. She turns and looks. “Yep. It smells like cheap hot dogs.”

I look at the Hollywood Market. “Good marker. Remember that. The Hollywood Market. Irene Street.”

Nicole smiles. “I'll just remember the smell.” She coughs and says, “We'll find our way back. Don't worry. Let's get to a pharmacy before we hit Rhodes.”

We walk through Boise's side streets and residential areas. Things start to get more commercial, and we finally find a drugstore. Nicole says, “Can you do this?”

I nod. “Let's come up with the procedure,” I say.

“Are you for real?” she asks.

“Just humor me,” I say, then go through the procedure out loud, step by step.

“But how will you get past the sensors?” I ask. “The alarms will go off.”

“I've got it covered, Jeops. I'll take care of it.”

“But how? For the procedure?”

“Why don't we do a more detailed write-up later? It's getting cold. I'll get by.”

“Okay,” I say, and continue.

“Are we going to be doing this procedure-thing all afternoon?” Nicole yawns.

“Okay. Okay. Last step.” There are way too many variables to even begin to fathom.

“Ready?” Nicole asks.

I nod. My hands feel sweaty and face feels flushed. I walk around the store picking things up then putting them on the shelves. It's not hard for me to look suspicious. I don't even have to try.

One worker asks me if I need help, then starts to price things everywhere I go. I hear the bells on the door jingle and some voices but keep my head down. I walk around the aisles then stop right in front of the cold medicine. I
pause for thirty seconds, counting one-Mississippi, two-Mississippi…until I feel like my head will burst. Then I work my way toward the door near the candy, not wanting to be in the back of the store when Nicole leaves. I just want to get out of here.

Nicole leafs through some magazines, passes through the cold medicine aisle, pausing just for a minute, then heads for the door. Just as she's about to leave, another lady comes rushing in and slams into Nicole. Nicole falls back, and a bag of cough drops and a box of pills spill from her jacket.

The man behind the counter rushes toward her, “You little snot-nosed wretched good-for-nothing shit! I'm going to call the police.”

Nicole jumps to her feet. “Run!” she shouts.

I run, but the man behind the counter grabs onto my shoulders. I wiggle out of the coat and follow Nicole. We zigzag in and out of traffic, running into some Basque restaurant mecca. After twenty minutes, we stop, gasping for breath.

“Fuck,” Nicole says. She searches through her pockets and pulls out dental floss. “This is all I got.”

“Dental floss? I'm to the sander stage to get this shit off my teeth.” I shrug. “It's okay. It's something.” I sit down
on the curb, rubbing my arms. I can almost feel the sweat freezing to my back. I cradle my head between my knees to try to stop the pounding.

“You okay?” she asks.

“Yeah.” I lift my head up slowly, my teeth chattering. “Just feeling a little funky. Sorry I wasn't much help.”

Nicole shrugs. “You looked guilty the second you walked in the store. That helped a lot. If it wasn't for that cow who ran into me, we'd have been okay.” Nicole sits next to me. “That sucks about your coat. Goddamn. We left with less than we came in with.” Nicole looks around. “Where are we?”

“Oh no,” I say.

“What?”

“The map. It's in my coat.”

Nicole stands up. “Shit. Who needs a map? It's not like you know how to read it anyway. We'll find our way back.”

I nod. “What about Rhodes?”

“What time do you think it is?”

I shrug. “Two thirty? Three o'clock, maybe.” The sun is still high in the sky—a yellow glow behind gray clouds.

“We'll find out where Rhodes is and get back to Klon.”

“You think you can find it?” I ask. “You know I can't.”

“No big deal,” she says.

“No big deal,” I mutter. But I have a sick feeling in my stomach.

We begin walking toward what we think is the way back to Klondike, just to get oriented. “Theme of the day,” I say, biting on my lip, trying to keep my mind from my knotted stomach and shivers.

“Shouldn't we wait for Klon?” Nicole asks.

I shrug. “We can redo it and pretend we haven't done it. I just feel pretty crappy right now and could use the distraction.”

“Whatcha got?”

“Sore throat. Fever,” I say. “Same as we all have, I guess. Now everything sounds like I'm underwater, though.” I jiggle my ears.

“Yeah.” Nicole puffs on her fingers. “Let's share the coat, okay? I'll wear it for twenty minutes, then you do. Back and forth.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“Okay. Theme of the day: your pick,” Nicole says.

“I think it's your turn.” I'm just counting the minutes until it's my turn to wear the coat.

“Well, I can't think of one, so just pick one.”

“Okay. Um. Favorite person,” I say.

Nicole blows her nose commando style. Gross but efficient. She looks at me. “You want me to teach you that, too?”

I looked at the snot drying on my arm. I flick off the dried flakes and they pull on my hairs. One of the perks of a runaway isn't Kleenex. “Yeah. I wouldn't mind.”

She laughs. “You're okay, you know.”

“Just okay?”

“Okay's a lot better than I think of most people.”

“Fair enough.” I clear my throat, pinch one side of my nose and blow. Snot covers my cheeks and drips down my chin.

“Nice, Jeopardy.” Nicole giggles. “You might want to try to do it downwind next time.”

“I'll consider that lesson number one.”

Nicole says, “
That
you can practice. You've gotten better about the shoplifting stuff.”

I nod. “Your reading's better.”

“It is,” Nicole agrees. “So I'll read street signs, okay? Reading lesson of the day.”

“Okay,” I say, hoping it's my turn to wear the coat. “So. Who's your favorite person?”

Nicole pauses. She looks at me and takes off the coat and hands it to me. “Holy fuck it's cold. No wonder your lips are blue. Shit.”

“Thank you.” I sigh when it's on. “Here.” I unzip it and hold it open. “Maybe we can just put it over our shoulders.”

“People will think we're total lesbos, you know.”

I shrug. “I'm just cold.” I haven't cared about what anybody thinks about me for so long now. It's just survival, I guess. You can't be too worried about public opinion on an empty stomach.

Nicole laughs. “Okay. Favorite person.” She and I walk close together. “I have a couple.”

“Really? Who?”

“I really dig Klon, you know? He's a quirky little shit.”

“Me, too,” I say, and laugh. “I especially like his croaks.” I wait for her to say more. “And? Who's the other?”

“Hey, you're not fishing for a BFf necklace, are you?” Nicole laughs.

“Nah. Way cliché.”

“This is okay, you know? You, me, Klon. It's a good road trip.”

“It's definitely more memorable than having a cooler
of Cokes and snacks.”

“Definitely,” Nicole says. “And you?” she asks. “Who're your favorite people?”

I rub my throat and think. It's not dad. Klon's one for sure. I look at Nicole and sigh. It's a weird world when your favorite person ends up being the most irritating human being on the face of the planet.

Nicole smirks. “You don't hafta say what's already obvious. I'm your BFf!” She laughs and says it in a mocking tone.

I shrug. “It was inevitable. You've grown on me. Like fungus.”

Nicole smiles. “Any particular kind?”

I shake my head.

“You'll find your aunt, you know. That'll be cool,” Nicole says. “Real cool.”

I nod. I haven't even thought about Aunt Sarah all day. Weird. Like my entire purpose has gone away and I'm just living day by day.

Ad hoc.

I finally say. “You know, we should get Klon a present. Have a birthday party for him. Today. When we get back. A big surprise. That'll make him feel better.”

Nicole pulls on the coat, leaving my left side exposed. I tug back. “Keep it in the middle.”

“Fuck, it's cold.”

I hand the coat to her. “Let's switch back and forth. It's too hard to walk this way. Plus you reek.”

“Yeah, and you smell like Bath and Body.”

I look around. “What about the party?”

“I like it. We'll give him his first present.”

“Maybe we can get him a cupcake or something.”

“No. Marshmallows,” Nicole says.

“Oh yeah!” I say. “Maybe we can roast them for real.”

“Cool. Should I just steal them?”

“Doesn't mean the same, you know? Buying it with our money”—I motion to her pocket—“means a lot more.”

“Good point,” Nicole says, “but we can't spend more than two dollars. That'll leave us eight for bus rides and shit.”

It's fun to think about Klon's birthday party—his first birthday present. A good distraction. We talk about all the ways to try to make it as special as possible. We find an AM/PM and go up and down the aisles, trying to decide. Finally, we pick a package of marshmallows and piece of Bazooka gum. It feels good to buy something.

We walk. It's like time passes, but we're in this weird warp where we don't even notice until the sun lowers. Nicole passes me the coat. “Look,” I say.

“So?” says Nicole.

“Look inside.”

Nicole looks in the window. “Oh shit.”

“Same drugstore we tried to rob. We've gone in a complete circle,” I say. “We're lost.” I turn around and look down the street. God, I suck at directions. “Let's get out of here before he sees us.” We hurry down the street.

“How long have we been walking?” Nicole asks.

I look up at the sky—the same gray sky we've been walking under all day long. “Two hours? More? I'm not sure.” That warped-time thing again.

“Shit. We've gotta get to Klon.”

“I know.” I felt tears prick my eyes thinking of him huddled in some cement tube. Waiting for us.

Nothing has gone as planned. This isn't supposed to be so hard. I hate those people who say it's not the destination, it's the journey.

Screw the journey. The journey sucks.

A couple of police officers cruise the street. “Let's go ask them. We need to get back.”

Nicole grabs my arm. “Are you stupid? We just robbed the drugstore down the street. We're obviously homeless. We can't just go up to a couple of Barney Fifes and say, ‘Excuse us, could you happen to point us to where the twitchy kid is hiding so they won't take him away? He's real sick.' Jesus, Jeopardy, don't you get it? Don't you get who we are now?”

“I don't care anymore. We can't just walk around knowing Klon is alone. I'll go. I'll ask. You don't have to.”

“What about Emerald City? What about Auntie Em? What about home? Do you think you'll find that in the system? Or Klon? It's like you have no idea.”

“No idea about what?” I ask, walking toward the police.

Nicole grabs my arm. “You have no idea what they do to you. None.”

I shake her hand off my arm and walk toward the police car.

Nicole turns around and pulls up her coat. “Look.”

I turn back. “Pull your shirt down. Geez, Nicole, stop it. What are you doing?”

“Look,” she says. Her back has the mark of a fire poker. “That was my mom's third boyfriend. He was her PO—the
one who was supposed to keep us safe. So when he beat my sister to death, who was I supposed to call? Nine-one-one? The police were already there.” Her lip trembles. “And social services are the ones who choose our foster homes—to keep us safe from our mom and her pervy asshole boyfriends.” She shakes her head. “Never again.”