When the bell rang I heard the men in the shelter groan or sigh before they reluctantly got up and folded their blankets, leaving them at the ends of their cots. Watching them, I did the same. Then, getting in line, we each received a hard roll and a cup of coffee. Personally, I really didn’t like coffee and there was no milk or sugar available, but I drank it anyway, enjoying its warmth flowing down my throat and into my stomach. Next to me was the man who had told me about Pete’s Place.
“How’d ya sleep?” he asked.
“Not so good,” I said. “I kept getting bitten.”
The man flashed his toothless smile and said, “I can show ya a better place to sleep so long as it’s warm, if ya want me to.”
I agreed, thinking anything was better than those biting bugs. We left the shelter and walked in the warm sunshine passing at first through some of the seedier parts of town. Although I hadn’t slept well, I really felt better in the morning. As I walked I listened to the birds singing while the breezes played gently with the leaves on the overhead branches and I enjoyed the warmth of the sun. Maybe this man will actually become a friend, I thought. I could sure use one. Soon we came to some more fashionable houses with green, well-cared-for lawns before we passed into an industrial section and arrived finally at some railroad tracks. Crossing the tracks, we came to some woods. The man beckoned me to follow, so, like an idiot, I followed him into the woods on a dim trail.
Suddenly, he turned on me, grabbed the front of my shirt and demanded, “Drop yer pants!”
“What!? No way!”
He slugged me in the face and I guess I passed out, because the next think I knew, I was lying belly down with my face in the mud, sobbing. My pants and undershorts were pulled down to my ankles. My head was pounding, my face and mouth were bleeding, and my ass felt like it was on fire.
“You fucking bastard! I’m going to kill you if I ever see you again!” I yelled, but he was long gone. I lay on the ground for a long time, crying. The pain in my ass was excruciating. My mouth and nose were full of dirt. They were bleeding and throbbing and hurting terribly. To top it all off, I threw up, over and over. Finally, when the vomiting had stopped, I slowly rolled over and pulled up my underpants and trousers. God, it hurt! The taste of vomit and blood was strong in my mouth. I spat, trying to get rid of it, but it lingered and nearly made me throw up again. I fished my handkerchief from my rear pocket and held it to my nose, trying to stop the bleeding.
I didn’t know if I would even be able to stand or walk, but I tried to stand. It took three tries before I could to take my hands from the ground and straighten a little, still bending forward. I looked around for my duffle bag, then realized the man had stolen it. “Shit!” I exclaimed. Gingerly, I tried walking. “Oh, God, that hurts!” I said aloud. It was agonizing, but I knew I had to do it. I’ve got to keep walking, I said to myself. I’ve got to get away from this awful place.
Slowly I crossed the tracks and hobbled painfully along beside them for a few minutes before I saw a boy who I thought was a bit older than me. He approached me slowly. I began to back away but he flashed a friendly little smile so I stayed where I was. He was dressed in dirty clothes, jeans and a T-shirt, with old, holey sneakers and no socks. He looked me over then spoke. “What happened to ya?” he asked, concern on his face.
I was ashamed and embarrassed by what had happened, but at the same time I felt I had to talk, so I told the boy what the man had done. “Fuck!” he exclaimed. “Bet that was old man Carpenter. He fucks every boy he can get his hands on. D’ya hurt?” I nodded. “Well, believe it or not, that’ll go away. D’ya gotta see a doctor?”
The thought alarmed me, and I stammered, “N…n…no!”
“OK. Lemme look at that nose.” I removed my handkerchief. “Don’t look broke and it’s almost stopped bleedin’. Lip’s split but it prob’ly don’t need stichin’.” The boy smiled at me and asked, “Got a name?”
“Ga…” I started to reply before I suddenly realized that I didn’t have to use that hated name any more. Thinking quickly I answered, “Willy.” The name amused me because of the double entendre which the boy wouldn’t understand.
“Mine’s Jack,” said the boy, perhaps realizing that “Willy” wasn’t my real name. He held out his hand and I took it. “Well, Willy, ya homeless?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“Run away?” he asked.
“Thrown out,” I answered, wondering if I was going to have to explain why.
But Jack just said, “OK. C’mon along with me.”
“Where to?” I hesitated.
“It’s OK,” said Jack. “Ya can trust me. I’m not gonna hurt ya. I’m homeless too, ya know. Ya’ve gotta get cleaned up and then I’ll show ya where me and my friends live.”
With that, he headed off along the tracks as I followed slowly behind.
Walking was so painful that I had to keep telling myself, I can’t pass out. I have to keep going. Somehow I managed to keep hobbling along, while Jack walked slowly, kindly waiting for me.
We stopped at a service station and used the rest room to clean the dirt and blood off my face. Jack very gently washed me, sponging with paper towels dampened with warm water. He worked all around my eyes then my nose which had stopped bleeding and finally my mouth which was still bleeding and quite swollen from the punch to my face.
As Jack worked, I looked at him more closely. He had nearly jet black hair which he wore full on the back and sides, where it covered his ears. It came down to jagged bangs just above his deep gray eyes. His lips were full and, at that moment, pursed in concentration. His nose was small and covered with freckles. Around his rather dirty neck he wore some sort of necklace made of wooden beads. It was tucked inside his shirt so I couldn’t see if there was anything on the end of it.
“There,” said Jack. “Guess we got most of it and yer lip’s stopped bleedin’. Let’s go.”
Leaving the gas station we walked for what seemed like a couple of miles, although it was probably shorter. The whole time Jack went slowly so I could keep up despite the pain. Eventually we arrived at a large park with ball fields, benches, and an ornamental fountain. On the far side there were woods. Oh no, I thought, I’m not going into any more woods! But Jack encouraged me, assuring me no harm would come to me. Somehow, I trusted him and followed, wondering if I was just being an idiot again.
At the far edge of the woods, where they opened into a meadow, we came to an overpass where the road crossed over a small stream bed. The overpass was supported by two concrete walls. Between the walls and the stream, which was barely a trickle, were strips of dry ground, each about ten feet wide. Laid out on the ground were three sleeping bags, a few clothes, and a few pots and pans.
“This is where we hang,” Jack said. “It’s not bad in the summer, but it gets pretty damn cold in the winter. In the spring we’ve gotta be really careful ’cause the stream floods. Anyway, join us. A few kids come and go all the time. We’re all homeless and we’re all just kids. The other two who live here right now got thrown out by their parents; I just left. None of us can go home, so here we are.”
Looking around, I was astounded. “Do the cops ever bother you?” I asked.
“Nah. We’re not criminals. If they caught us they’d prob’ly put us in foster care, but then we’d just run away again. We’re not breakin’ any laws here, except a park rule about no campin’. Nobody cares about it so long as we don’t mess up the place or mug people. We do have t’look out for the older homeless guys though. They’ll take this spot away from us if they can. Some of them can be pretty vicious, but I guess ya already know that.”
“Aren’t there any shelters for kids?” I asked.
“Not just for kids. The law says the state’s supposed t’ take care of us, but the foster homes are too full right now. They’d have no place t’ put us. Besides, most of us’d rather be on our own than in a foster home. We like the freedom and we don’t trust adults.”
“Where are the other two now?”
“Almost anywhere. Maybe lookin’ for food, maybe tryin’ t’ find a place t’ clean up, maybe in the library usin’ the computers, maybe on the streets beggin’. A lot of the kids sell sex but that usually works better at night. I won’t do that though. It’s disgustin’ and it’s really unsafe. Nobody tells anybody what t’ do. We just come together when it gets dark. Let’s go. I’ll show ya ’round.”
“Is your stuff really safe here?” I asked.
“Sure. We don’t steal from each other. We trust each other. If we find we can’t trust somebody, we hurt them enough so they leave and won’t ever try t’ come back. It’s only happened once in over two years. C’mon.”
For the rest of the day, we slowly explored Grantham. From time to time I had to rest, but I found sitting was just too painful. Twice we stopped in parks where Jack sat on the grass while I lay on my stomach.
The second time, as I lay on the ground, I felt tears in my eyes, and before I knew it, I was sobbing.
Jack put a gentle hand on my back and asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Everything,” I answered through my sobs. “I tried for years to do something, anything my dad would approve of. He never once did. Then, when he found out I was gay, he threw me out.”
“That’s hard,” said Jack.
“Now I’ve got no home, no friends, and no future.”
“I’m yer friend,” said Jack.
“Thanks. But besides all that, I’m really angry and upset about being raped.”
After a moment’s silence, Jack said, “Well, here’s what I think. First, I’m sure it’s tough bein’ thrown out, but most all of us have been one way or another. If we had had parents who really cared for us, a lot of us wouldn’t be out here, but we are. I got no idea what my future is. I just know I have t’ keep goin’ and try t’ survive if I’m gonna have any future at all.”
I heard what he said, but it didn’t take the sadness away.
“Second,” he continued, “most all of us, at least the younger ones, have been abused or raped. I guess it goes with the territory.”
I nodded and said, “If I ever see him again, I’ll kill him!”
Jack was silent for a few moments before saying, “Ya can’t do that, Willy. That anger ’ll eat yer heart out. Ya gotta let it go.”
Why’s he being so nice to me? I wondered. What could he possibly want from me? I thought for awhile. Could it be that he just really was nice and wanted to help? I couldn’t come up with an answer, then or for several days to come. I kept thinking that he must want to use me for something.
Jack showed me where there were market and restaurant dumpsters that were likely to have food in them. We poked around in a few and found outdated bread and rolls for lunch. Then Jack showed me where the library was and said that it was a nice warm place to be in the winter.
“Did you say the library has computers where you can get on line?” I asked.
“Sure. Sometimes ya gotta wait ’til one’s free, but everybody’s pretty good about sharin’.”
We came across kids who were panhandling and stopped to talk with them for a few minutes. Most of them were older than us, but Jack knew them all and introduced me to each one.
Later, I asked, “Where do they go to sell sex? Not that I’d ever do it but I’m just curious.” Jack showed me a few street corners that could be profitable at night, saying, “Lots’a kids do it ’cause they’ve got a drug habit t’ pay for. Like I said before, it’s not for me.”
“Me either!’ I shuddered.
Then Jack showed me how to get money out of a drink or snack machine and how to use a straightened paper clip to get money out of the change machines in the Laundromats. I thought that was stealing and didn’t think I’d ever want to do it. Little did I know!
He warned that doing this was a little dangerous and that, if you were caught, you could be arrested. “Us’ally,” he added, “they won’t put us in jail ’cause there’s no room and they need the cells for older guys, so they just give us a warnin’.”
“How do you get clothes?”
“Well, sometimes the Salvation Army has really cheap ones, but us’ally we steal them off o’ clothes lines.”
Finally we once again foraged for food, finding some uneaten pizza, which we gobbled down. The tomato paste stung my mouth something fierce, but I was so hungry I ignored it. Then we headed back for the night, me still hobbling along as best I could.
When we arrived back at the overpass, there was already a girl there who was obviously pregnant. Jack introduced her as Amanda and then suggested that I sleep next to him. Taking out his sleeping bag he looked at me and asked, “Don’t ya got a sleeping bag?”
“No, I had a blanket, but that bastard stole what little I had.”
Jack nodded and unzipped his sleeping bag, spreading it out on the ground. “Well, we’ll check the thrift shops and the Salvation Army t’ find ya somethin’ tomorrow. Sorry, I should’a thought of that before. For now you can lie on this. It shouldn’t get too cold tonight.”
The three of us talked awhile in the dark. Amanda told me she was fifteen and had been thrown out when she’d told her mother she was pregnant. She said she thought she was due sometime in December. I looked around, wondering where the fourth resident was, but I didn’t ask.
Eventually Amanda climbed into her sleeping bag and nodded off while Jack and I lay on his sleeping bag. At first, I tried to lie on my back. Shit, I thought, my butt’s killing me! So I lay on my side, facing away from Jack. I thought about Dexter and Adam, wondering what they were doing right then. I got teary for awhile but finally dozed off.
Some time later I heard the fourth person arrive quietly, but whoever it was quickly settled down.
Despite what Jack had said, it grew quite chilly, and I started shivering even though I had all my clothes on. Finally I decided to get up and pee because the cold was going to make me go in my pants. I looked around for a place to go and ended up just by the edge of the woods. After I relieved myself I stepped out into the open meadow and looked up at the stars. It was a beautiful, clear, dry night. I could find Orion and Cassiopeia. I looked for the Big Dipper and followed it to the North Star. Looking up at it, I began to sing to myself:
Follow. Follow, Follow.
Follow, the Drinkin’ Gourd.
For the Old Man is a’waitin’ for to carry you to freedom.
Follow the Drinkin’ Gourd.
Jack must have heard me because suddenly he was standing beside me. “You’ve got a nice voice,” he said. “What’s the song?”
I explained how the slaves called the Big Dipper “The Drinking Gourd,” and how it pointed to the North Star, which they could follow when they were escaping on the Underground Railroad. Then I told him about the Underground Railroad, which he’d never heard of.
Nodding, Jack said, “That’s awesome!” We both gazed at the sky for a few more minutes, before Jack said, “Yer shiverin’. C’mon. We’ll lie as close as we can and try t’ keep each other warm.”
Is he gay? I wondered, but of course I didn’t ask. We settled down and Jack snuggled up close behind me until I stopped shivering and finally went to sleep.