by Paige Dearth
Joon broke down and wept for the piece of her that Aron had stolen—her innocence. It was hard to relive the things her foster mother had done to her. But most times when she talked about what happened, she felt better afterward.
“I’m sorry,” Pringle announced. “Let’s get you done so I can clean up.”
When Joon was finished, she shook off the excess water and wrung out her hair. Then she pulled her dirty clothes on over her wet skin. Joon helped Pringle take a shower, and when they were both finished, they sat on a log in the sun, hoping their clothes would dry before day turned to night and the air turned chilly.
“Do you feel better?” Pringle asked.
Joon was raking her fingers through her wet hair. She held her hands up for both of them to see. Joon stared at the dirt embedded under her fingernails. “Well, my skin feels a little better, but I wouldn’t say I’m clean. It’ll take a lot more than a bottle shower to get rid of that dirt.”
“Anything’s gotta be better than what that lady did to you,” Pringle said, still reeling from Joon’s story.
Joon nodded. “Her name is Aron. I always use her name to remind myself of the person I will never become, and every time I say Aron’s name, I become less and less afraid of her.”
Quinn watched the girls from a distance, wondering how long it would be before Joon fell head over heels for him.
Chapter Thirty-One
A few days later, Joon woke up alone. She rubbed her eyes, stretched, and crawled out of their box. Several teens were sitting on the logs and tires. Joon approached the group Quinn was sitting with.
“Where’s Pringle?”
Quinn looked up at her and shrugged. “Haven’t seen her this morning. Last time I saw her was last night after you went to sleep. She was hanging with some guy that stumbled in here. Looked like she was really into him. Maybe she slept somewhere else last night.”
Joon shook her head. “Pringle wouldn’t do that, not if she didn’t know the guy.”
“Well, then it beats me where she’s at.”
“Anybody else see her?” Joon asked the rest of the group sitting there.
They all shook their heads.
“I’m gonna take a piss, then look for her. You wanna help me?” Joon asked Quinn.
“Sure. I’ll help. I ain’t got nothing else to do today. We can check the train station. Maybe she headed out early this morning to beg.”
Joon nodded and walked off to pee. As she squatted, she thought about the places they could look, and when she finished, as she pulled her jeans up, she noticed something in the distance. As she stared, she realized it was Pringle’s sneakered feet.
“Girl,” Joon yelled. “You better get decent. You and that boy you’re with better be ready ’cause I’m coming over there.”
As Joon got closer, her heart raced. No one was lying next to Pringle. She ran toward her friend.
“Pringle!” Joon stood over her friend, who was lying facedown. She dropped to her knees and shook the girl, and when Pringle didn’t wake up, Joon flipped her over—Pringle’s face was purple and black. A guttural scream escaped from Joon.
Seconds later, Quinn and the others ran to her.
“What the hell happened?” Quinn asked.
Joon looked up at him in shock. “I think she’s…she’s dead.”
“No. She can’t be,” Quinn replied. He dropped to his knees and pushed Joon out of the way. He looked into Pringle’s face and was visibly horrorstruck as he felt for a pulse.
“Is she alive? Does she have a pulse?”
“Wait. Give me a minute.” Quinn continued to move his hand to different places on Pringle’s neck, checking for a pulse while Joon and the others looked on waiting for him to deliver good news. Finally, he turned to Joon and shook his head.
“Noooooo!” she cried. “No, no, no, she can’t be dead.” Joon sat on Pringle’s hips and tried to pull the dead girl into a sitting position.
Quinn looked at the others who had gathered. They were all deeply saddened that Pringle had died, and Joon’s reaction tore at their hearts. Quinn stood and put his hands under Joon’s armpits. “Come on, Joon. She’s gone.”
Joon snapped her head to the side and glared at him. “No. You don’t understand. Pringle can’t be dead. I won’t let her be dead. You have to do something to help her.”
“There’s nothing I can do.” He looked around the group and Joon followed his gaze. “There’s nothing any of us can do. It’s too late. Now, I’m gonna take you back over there,” he said, pointing to the main area. “I’ll take care of you. I’m gonna help you. I won’t leave you, and we’ll figure everything out together, okay?” he said in a soothing voice. Quinn led Joon back to the main area and sat next to her. His arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders, he looked up at Booz and the other boys. “Joon, I need to talk to Booz for a minute,” he said gently. “I’ll be right back.”
Joon stared off into nothingness, her tears a relentless stream. She barely heard what Quinn said to her.
“Joon? Did you hear me?”
Joon nodded but was clearly still in a state of shock.
Quinn pulled Booz off to the side. “We’re gonna need to take care of her body. We can’t just let her lay there, and Joon will need closure. Take some of the other guys about two hundred feet down the tracks to that small patch of trees. Tell them to bring whatever they have to dig a grave. We’ll bury her tomorrow. We gotta give Joon a little time to let this all sink in.”
“What the fuck happened to her?” the other boy asked.
Quinn lowered his head and shook it gently. “Not sure. There wasn’t any blood that I could see. She has a mark around her neck. Maybe a rope or something like that. I can’t really tell. Looks like she was choked or suffocated. I don’t know. That dude she was with last night—where’d he go?”
Booz shrugged. “Not sure. I got drunk and fell asleep.”
Quinn nodded. “Get the guys together and take care of the grave. Okay?”
“Sure, man,” Booz said, placing his palm on Quinn’s chest. “This is some real fucked-up shit.”
“Yeah, it really is. We all loved Pringle, and now, we’re gonna need to help Joon get through this.”
Booz called some of the other boys and explained what they needed to do. As they walked toward the patch of trees where Pringle would be buried, Quinn settled in next to Joon and took her in his arms.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The next morning, Joon stirred in the cardboard box. She’d had a restless sleep and kept waiting for Pringle to come back and join her. When she opened her eyes, Quinn was lying next to her. He hadn’t left her side since she’d discovered Pringle’s body. He rolled onto his side and found Joon was staring at him with a blank expression.
She felt dread as she thought about facing another day without Pringle.
“You okay?” he asked.
Joon pulled the wool blanket tighter around her. Please just leave me alone with my misery, she thought, but finally answered. “No. I’m not okay. I keep waiting for her to come back. I feel…broken. I don’t know what I’m going to do now.”
“You’re going to stay with me. I’m gonna take care of you. I don’t want you to worry,” he said, moving closer and putting his arm over her. “I made arrangements for Pringle.”
Joon’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
“She deserves a decent funeral, and I had some of the guys dig a place for us to lay her to rest. Everyone is gonna gather at noon today.”
Joon startled a bit at the news. She couldn’t really remember her parents’ funeral and hadn’t even thought of one for Pringle yet. “What? We’re burying her today? I’m not ready, Quinn,” she cried.
“Joon, listen to me. We can’t just let her lay out there in the grass. We have to show her respect. I know this is sudden and that you need time to accept that she’s gone. But leaving her body there to rot or be eaten by animals just isn’t right.”
The thought of either thin
g happening to Pringle’s body made Joon grimace. “You’re right,” she said sadly. “I just miss her so much already.”
“I know you do. We all miss her. Let’s get outta here and go grab something to eat at the train station before the funeral.”
Joon shook her head. “I’m not hungry. Just go without me.”
“No. I won’t eat either. I’m staying right here so I can take care of you.”
At noon, the group gathered at what would be Pringle’s grave. Quinn was holding Joon’s arm as he brought her to stand beside the open grave. Joon looked into the hole. Pringle’s body was wrapped in a thick, black tarp that the boys had found near the train station.
Booz looked around the circle of teens. “Somebody’s gotta say something.”
They all looked at Joon, but her grief was too heavy.
Quinn cleared his throat, and the others bowed their heads.
“Pringle, we will all miss you. Everyone here loved you. If there is a God, we hope you’re with Him right now.” He pulled Joon into him. “I don’t want you to worry about Joon. I’ll take good care of her. Amen.”
“Amen,” the group murmured together.
Joon pulled away from Quinn and climbed into the grave. She laid on top of Pringle’s body. Her sadness was overwhelming, not only for herself, but also for those who watched her grieve.
Quinn hurriedly climbed in and scooped Joon up into his arms. She leaned into him, her arms locked around his neck in a death grip.
“Everything will be okay,” he murmured, stroking her hair. Then with the help of Booz, they lifted Joon out of the grave and Quinn walked her back to the cardboard box she no longer shared with Pringle.
Chapter Thirty-Three
That night, the teens sat around a barrel fire. Joon just stared. She hadn’t talked much since she’d found Pringle the morning prior. Quinn approached her, and she looked up at him.
Her bottom lip quivered. “I feel so alone. Pringle was the only best friend I ever had in my whole life.”
Quinn made an exaggerated pouty face. “I can be your new best friend.”
Joon, still crying, looked away. There was a deep ache in her chest, and the sobs ripped through her, as if the sorrow were trying to escape.
“Come on,” Quinn said. “Let’s take a walk. We won’t be gone long. You need to eat something.”
After much encouragement, Joon finally agreed to go with Quinn. The two walked to a fast-food restaurant, and while Joon sat with her head in her hands, Quinn ordered two burgers and fries. When he returned, he sat across from her.
“You should eat,” he said, pushing the plastic tray toward her.
Joon unwrapped her burger and took a bite. “Where did you get the money to pay for all of this?”
“I work for Pug, remember?”
“Whatever that means,” she spat, remembering the negative reaction Pringle always had to Pug.
“It means that I always have money in my pocket.”
“Pringle didn’t like that Pug guy.”
Quinn set his burger down. “Pringle didn’t even know Pug. I know him. He’s a good guy. You know I loved Pringle, but there weren’t many people she trusted. You’re different in that way, I think. You trust people more than she did.”
Joon shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess it depends on who it is.”
“Do you trust me?” Quinn asked, his tone gentle as he placed his hand over hers.
Joon eyes softened as she looked at him. “I guess. I mean I’ve known you for a little while. But I don’t really know that much about you.”
“I don’t know that much about you either…doesn’t mean I don’t trust you.”
The two finished their meal and headed back to the Tracks. That night, when it was time to sleep, Joon went off to her box, climbed in, and pulled the blanket over her. Joon had the chills even though the air hung heavy with the heat from the day.
Quinn ducked his head inside the box. “Hey…you want some company?”
Joon was feeling a little uneasy being in the box by herself, but she also remembered Pringle’s warning about getting too close to Quinn too soon. Pringle had never trusted him, but Quinn was the only person who Joon could depend on at that moment. She scooted to the side and waved him in.
“Joon, its ninety degrees outside,” he said, exaggerating. “Why are you covered with a blanket?”
“I don’t know,” she mumbled. “I’m freaked out. I’m cold. I can’t help it.” She started crying again.
“Come here.” Quinn lay next to her and wrapped her in his arms. “I’m here now. You’re not alone, and I’m not going anywhere.”
“It’s not the same,” she said heavyhearted. “I mean, I’m happy you’re helping me, but I miss Pringle. I just want her to come back.”
“I understand. Girls are different than guys. You and Pringle were really close. No one can ever replace her,” Quinn soothed. “Hey, look on the bright side—I make enough money working for Pug to buy food and keep my belly full. I can take care of you too.”
“What do you do for Pug?” she asked.
“I sell stuff for him.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“Just stuff.”
Joon wanted to know exactly what Quinn was selling. She had her suspicions but decided not to press the issue. Right now, she needed a friend and didn’t want to chance chasing him away.
She dug her fingers deep into her thick hair and scratched her scalp. “I think I have lice,” she moaned.
“That sucks. Tomorrow we’ll go down to the youth center on Broad Street and get you one of those kits. If Albany is there, she’ll let you use the sink in the bathroom to wash your hair with that shit they give you to kill those little fuckers.”
Joon scratched at her scalp harder. “I hope Albany is there tomorrow. I’ve had them for a couple of weeks and my head is sore from scratching.”
Quinn pulled Joon closer to him. “We’ll head down there first thing when we wake up. I told you I would take care of you, and I mean it. I really like you.” He lifted her chin and pressed his lips to hers, licking at her lips.
Joon turned her head away. “Knock it off.”
“I’m sorry. I was just trying to get closer to you. I want to be able to comfort you.”
In the darkness, she flushed. Secretly, she enjoyed the feeling of Quinn’s tongue softly passing over her lips, but she was still grieving and couldn’t concentrate on Quinn and how she should react to his kiss. The deep emptiness caused by Pringle being so suddenly gone overpowered all other feelings.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The next morning at the youth shelter, Joon felt hopeful when Quinn walked her over to a lady and greeted her with a bear hug.
“Hi, Albany,” Quinn sang.
“Oh, hey, baby. How you holding up?”
Quinn smiled at the older woman. “Well, you know, it’s always easier in the warmer weather.”
“Yeah, I remember those cold winters on the streets. You need something?”
“Yeah,” he replied, grabbing Joon’s hand. “This is my girl, Joon. She’s got lice. We need a kit and I hope a sink to shampoo that crap in.”
Albany looked Joon over. “How old are you, child?”
Joon scratched her head. “Thirteen.”
Albany looked back at Quinn. “A little young for you, Quinn. Don’t you think?”
Quinn stood firm and shook his head. “Nope. Not at all. You know that the streets age you quickly. Joon might be thirteen, but she acts more like sixteen.”
Albany put her hands on her wide hips. “I don’t know about all that. Listen, child, this boy here, well, he’s a real charmer. You gotta watch out for him. Don’t let his good looks make you do anything you don’t wanna do. He’s a hustler.”
Before Joon could respond, Quinn kissed Albany on the cheek, pecking at her until she giggled. “You know you’re my best girl,” he teased the older woman.
“Quinn, don’t give me none of t
hat shit. You’ve been a ladies’ man since you were Joon’s age. Now, I want you to be sweet to this girl. Looks like she has seen some dark days in her young life.”
Joon shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “How would you know if I had dark days?”
Albany put her arm around Joon’s shoulders. “It’s all in the eyes, baby. The harder the life, the more it shows in your eyes.” The woman pushed Joon back to arm’s length and kept her hands gently on her shoulders. She stared at the child. “See now, the blue in your eyes is bold and real vibrant—you’re a true survivor. But the small flecks of white and gray inside that blue is where you find the pain.”
“My best friend just died,” Joon said so quietly it was almost a whisper, her lower lip quivering.
“Come here, child,” Albany said and gave her a lingering hug. “It’s gonna be okay. Your friend will live on in your heart.” The woman turned to Quinn. “Anybody I know?”
“Pringle.”
Albany clasped her hands together and pulled them to her chest. “Dear Lord, Pringle was a good kid. What happened to her?”
“A guy came to the Tracks. Pringle hooked up with him, and she was with him when we all crashed. Joon found her the next morning. All the guys are looking for the dude, but we haven’t had any luck.”
Albany turned her attention to Joon. “You’re gonna be okay. This is an awful thing that happened to Pringle. There ain’t nothing worse than losing someone we love, but the thing is, child, you still gotta live.”
Joon gave the woman a watery smile and felt her tense muscles let go a little. Albany’s words gave her comfort—she wanted to believe what the woman was telling her.
Albany took Joon’s hand as she spoke. “Come on, baby. Let’s go get those little critters out of your hair. You’ll feel much better.”
In the bathroom, Joon bent over the sink while Albany washed her hair with the lice killing shampoo. After she finished, Albany sat the young girl in a chair as she combed the unhatched eggs from her scalp. It took a long time, and Joon’s head was soon throbbing.
