Crash (6 page)

“That's him,” Mac told Deacon. “Can you open the door so we can get him out of here?”

Deacon acted as if she'd just asked him if we could throw his mother over a cliff. He leaned over and looked at the tag on the bars of the cage. “Says here he was found abandoned on Spring Street.”

“He wasn't abandoned,” I said. “We were inside a coffee shop for, like, ten minutes.”

“Whatever,” he said. “Yeah sure, you can take him. Just go pay the fine first. Two hundred bucks.”

I stood up and looked at Mac, then at the man in uniform. “We don't have that kind of money, sir,” I said as politely as I could.

He cleared his throat and looked at us, sizing us up. He knew what he was looking at—a couple of sorry-ass street kids. But that didn't exactly inspire compassion in this old buzzard who spent his days inhaling the pungent smell of dog crap. “You'll have to find it. That's the fine. Everyone has to pay if they want their pooch back.”

“What if we can't get the money?” Mackenzie asked.

“We hold the dog for ten days. Like I say, the official story is he was abandoned. No tags or nothing. We get hundreds of dogs like him down here. He ain't no different from the rest.”

I looked around at “the rest.” A howling, barking, dirty zoo of imprisoned animals, some who would be rescued and some, I knew, who would not. “And after ten days?”

“We put him up for adoption,” Deacon said flatly. Then he looked up at the ceiling and added, “But only a small number of these mangy hounds ever find a home. Especially older dogs like this.”

It was unbearable to think of Ozzie living with someone else. I felt the blood drain from my head as I asked the next necessary question. “What happens if he doesn't get adopted?”

Deacon just put his hands in the air. He didn't have to say it. I knew what would happen. The same thing that was likely to happen to most of the sad and hopeless dogs in this hellhole. “Can't we just take him outside for a walk?” Mac asked. “We'll bring him back, I promise. Then we'll go get the money. Please.”

Deacon looked at her, and for a split second I thought the hard-bitten old geezer was going to drop his guard and be human. But even if he'd felt something, he wasn't buying. “Sorry, sweetheart. Can't do it.”

I was ready to tackle this guy. I really was. I figured I could knock him down, Mac could release Oz, and we would run. But the saner part of my brain was telling me we'd be in deeper trouble if we did that and might never see Ozzie again. It was one of the hardest things I'd ever done to walk away from my dog as he watched us leave.

Outside, it had begun to snow. We walked a long way before we came to a pay phone at a gas station. It's not until you find yourself without a cell phone and living on the street that you realize how few pay phones are left. I called my mom's cell, and she answered. I explained about Ozzie. I begged her for the money.

At first she didn't say anything. Then she said, “I'm sorry, Cameron, I can't. If Nick found out, he'd be really mad. We're just working things out. I can't take the chance. I can't do something behind his back.”

“Jesus, Mom. This is Ozzie we're talking about. It's only two hundred dollars.”

“I'm sorry, Cam. I can't. Some nice family will adopt him. Cam, I'm worried about you. Come back home.”

But she didn't mean home, I knew. She meant Nick's place. It wasn't going to happen.

I used the rest of our change to call my dad out west, but all I got was a message saying his number was no longer active. With almost no money left, we had to hitchhike back downtown. That taught me another lesson about life on the street. Drivers don't like picking up hitchhikers when it's snowing.

Chapter Fourteen

Back on Spring Street, we started to panhandle, but there weren't many people out in the snow and wind. I tried telling the truth about our situation to the people walking by, but no one wanted to stop and listen. Another rule of the street. The more desperate you really are, the less likely people are to stop and listen.

We gave up early and knocked on Eddy's door. As usual, he was in his bathrobe. The TV was blasting in the background—some reality show about rich housewives. “Too early,” Eddy said. “Come back later.”

“Eddy,” Mac said, “they took our dog. He's in the dog pound. We need your help.”

“Ozzie? They took Ozzie?”

I nodded. “We need two hundred dollars to bust him out of there. Can you help us?”

I could see that he was genuinely concerned. I think he really liked the dog. “Two hundred bucks? Are you crazy? Where would I get that kind of money?” Then he shook his head. “Poor Ozzie.”

No. Eddy couldn't help us. But he did let us in early, and though he told us we had to stay in the kitchen until his TV show was over, he said we could crash there for free that night. Eddy was crazy, and he was unpredictable, but he had a heart.

In the morning, we still didn't know what to do. Mac convinced me we should go to school. Maybe if we talked to enough kids, someone would be able to help. The snowplows were out, but the sidewalks hadn't been shoveled. We had wet feet and cold hands by the time we approached the front door of the school. Mackenzie stopped suddenly. “I just had an idea,” she said. “I think I know a couple of people who can help. Real dog lovers.”

“Great,” I said. “Let's go.”

She shook her head. “No, if I'm going to convince them, I have to go alone. If you were there, it wouldn't work. Besides, it's a ways off. Bus fare. I only have enough for one of us. That's me.”

“I thought we decided we were going to stick together. Look out for each other.”

“I know. But this is for Ozzie. You go to school. Talk to some kids. See if anyone can help. But I'll go see my friend, and I think it will work.”

“I don't like you leaving.”

“I know. But it's going to be okay.” Then she leaned forward and kissed me on the mouth. “It's going to be okay. I promise. Go to school. Be good. I'll be here when you come out.” She started to walk away.

“But tell me where you're going,” I said.

She didn't stop. “I'll be back,” she said. “Then we'll get Ozzie.”

If she hadn't seemed so certain, so positive, so upbeat, I wouldn't have let her walk away. And then she was gone, and the bell was ringing. I tried to keep my mind locked on the light at the end of the tunnel. Freeing Ozzie, moving on to…I didn't know what.

I tried talking to a few kids about “borrowing” some cash. I explained about my dog. I thought people would care. But I'd become one of those students who came to school every day looking ratty from sleeping on somebody's couch or crashing wherever they could. Kids like Ethan and Emma March and Mackenzie. Like them, I was now trying to bum money from classmates. We'd all been observed and labeled and made fun of and, ultimately, ignored.

Even though my requests for money didn't go well, I stayed focused on the positive energy I'd seen in Mac that morning. And the fact that she had kissed me. And that she was coming back. We would free Ozzie. I knew it. And so, strange as it may sound, I had a pretty good day at school. I wrote an in-class essay about a poem by Walt Whitman. I passed a history test, and I stayed awake through the day.

The bell was about to ring, and the day would be over. I'd be back with Mac. As I shoved my books into my locker, I noticed Davis Conlon sneering at me from across the hall. I ignored the creep. I was getting good at that. The girl beside my locker, Jenna, was talking to a couple of her friends. As I closed my locker, I said, “Hi, Jenna, how's it going?”

She gave me a funny look, but she answered, “It's going okay, I guess. How about you?”

So I decided to tell her about my dog problem. She and her friends listened. But I could see from their eyes that they didn't believe me. When I got to the part about asking to borrow some money, one of the girls rolled her eyes. Jenna just said, “I'll see what I can do. Maybe tomorrow.” But I knew she didn't mean it. Then came the kicker. “Cameron,” she said, “I hate to say this, but man, you smell really bad. When was the last time you had a shower?” The other two girls giggled.

I'm not even sure she meant to be mean. But she was right. I stunk. And it hit me then just how far apart our worlds were, even though our lockers were side by side and we were in the same school. “I know,” I said, and I walked away.

As I made my way through the noisy afternoon hallways, I realized that I was different now from most of the other kids. That I'd maybe never be one of them again. No home, no bedroom, no parents to come home to. Yeah, I felt like crying. And I started to worry that something might have happened to Mackenzie. That she wouldn't be outside waiting for me.
Please God, please let
Mac be there
, I prayed silently. It was something I hadn't done in a long time.

The sun was shining brightly on the snow outside. My eyes were having a hard time adjusting to the light. I took a deep breath of the fresh air and looked around.

And then she was there. Sneaking up behind me and putting her arms around me. “Surprise,” she said. I spun around. I smiled. I tried to kiss her, but she pulled away.

“Sorry,” I said.

“Don't be. Look.” She had a wad of twenties in her hand.

“Wow. Your friend?”

“Yeah. Let's go. Let's get the bus. Let's go free Ozzie.”

I guess I didn't want to ask too many questions. Maybe there really had been a friend. Maybe it was something personal—an old boyfriend. I don't know. I just knew we had the money and I should be happy. Ozzie saw us walking down the corridor. Deacon almost seemed glad to see us. “See?” he said. “Happy ending.”

In an empty lot in the industrial park, we let Ozzie run free and played in the snow. We threw snowballs, and he chased them. We pretended to chase him, and he ran in circles. And then we hitchhiked back to town, getting a ride all the way there with an old hippie in a van who told stories of “the good old days” all the way.

And we had money left over to crash at Eddy's. Eddy seemed super happy to see Ozzie back. In the morning, he promised to stay “cool” and take good care of Ozzie while we went to school.

And yes, Mackenzie and I went to school.

Mr. Brewster called us both to his office from our first class. I thought we were in some kind of trouble. But it wasn't that.

“Some of the students,” he said, “have expressed concern about the two of you.”

I assumed their concern was that we both smelled bad, but I didn't ask.

“I had a meeting with the principal, and we thought we could help out a little.” He handed us some slips of paper. “Hang on to these. Take them to the cafeteria. You'll get a breakfast and a lunch. No big deal. But it should help.”

“Thanks,” we both said in unison.

“And you'll be allowed to use the gym showers.”

Maybe the stink had done some good. Maybe Jenna and her friends, or whoever, really did have some concern. Food and showers. Things were looking up. Maybe it was all coming together.

Chapter Fifteen

I badgered Mackenzie about who had given her the money to spring Ozzie. I wanted to know who it was and how we could pay this person back in some way. But every time I brought it up, she was quiet and mysterious. “Don't worry about it. It's okay,” she said. But there was something weird about it.

School was, well, school. But we were hanging in there. We had breakfast and lunch there, and the showers were great. Mac and I both found time to get our homework done during the day, and sometimes we stayed after school at the library to study. I was back to thinking about my New Year's resolution. All I had to do was finish this year and get through one more, and I'd graduate. There was light at the end of the tunnel.

We'd given up panhandling on Spring Street. The cops there knew us too well. We'd been warned about getting arrested, and I was afraid animal control might show up and grab Ozzie again.

Mac had convinced me we shouldn't work so close together. She said it drew too much attention. Instead, we worked a few blocks apart from each other and only after school and into the evening. It was getting warmer, but the rainy days were killers. And the worse the weather, the less likely people were to give us any change. I made a little cardboard sign that said
Please Help Me Feed My
Dog
. Some people became “regulars” and would actually stop to say hi and pet Ozzie. But no matter how politely I chatted with people and how lovable Ozzie was, I always ended up with less money than Mackenzie. “It's because I'm a girl,” she said. “People feel sorry for me.”

A lot of nights, I'd have only eight or ten dollars, and Mac would have enough to cover for me. She always seemed to have enough for us to crash another night at Eddy's. Yeah, Eddy always wanted the money, although by now it seemed like we were part of his family. It was one hell of a weird family, but it was all we had. Ethan was there many nights, and he never wanted to talk about where he'd spent the nights he didn't show.

Mac was late sometimes for our evening rendezvous in front of the coffee shop, but she always got there eventually. I guessed she kept panhandling until she was sure we'd have enough to crash at Eddy's. Sometimes she looked tired. Sometimes discouraged. She never seemed to want to talk about her time on the street. I worried about her. I worried about us.

“Maybe we can find some other place,” I said. “Some place just a little more sane.”

“Eddy's is more than just a little weird,” she admitted. “But I think it's all we have for now. Believe me, it could be worse.”

I remembered sleeping in the basement of the bakery and knew she was right. Two weeks later, just when I thought everything was going really well, a couple of girls at school started picking on Mac. Davis Conlon had started spreading a rumor that Mac was hanging out with Jenna's boyfriend. He'd implied, of course, that it was more than hanging out. Jenna was one of those girls who'd had maybe twelve boyfriends in the last year. Her trademark move was to steal someone else's boyfriend by having sex with him and then, as soon as she'd stolen him away, drop him like a hot potato and move on. She was a real piece of work. So now that it was rumored Mac had pulled the same move on her, she wanted revenge. Jenna didn't even seem to care whether it was true.