Luckily the weather was still warm at night, because she hadn’t yet managed to obtain any warmer clothes. Justine wandered for a while, but didn’t find anything that looked very comfortable. Some homeless people were sleeping on the sidewalk. Eventually, she stopped in a park and curled up on a park bench. It wasn’t one of the ones with an arm in the middle to keep people from lying down on them, and it was boarded all down the back, so she could actually stretch out on it and not fall through the back. It wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t the ground. Justine slept with her head on her backpack and her board cuddled in her arms like a teddy bear. No one was going to steal them from her in the middle of the night.
It got colder than she had expected. Justine was up at the first light of dawn and tried to walk out the kinks and stiff muscles. Then she skated around to finish warming up. She was going to have to find something better than a park bench. And more clothes to keep comfortable. She was starting to get the idea that she hadn’t picked a really good area to be homeless in.
She didn’t see a lot of kids her age. Mostly homeless adults, and the people who worked in the stores and on the roads. The worker bees eyed her suspiciously, and she was leery of the homeless adults after her hitchhiking adventures.
Another day passed, and Justine found herself standing outside the soup kitchen, peering in through the glass of the door, trying to see what was going on.
“Are you going in, or not?” a voice demanded from behind her.
Justine turned and looked at the man standing there. A homeless man, maybe a returned soldier or something, young, ruggedly handsome under the dirt and stubble of his face.
“Um, I don’t know,” she said.
“Are you hungry?”
Justine nodded.
“Yeah, I guess,” she admitted. “But … I don’t know what’s allowed. Is it for anyone? Do you have to follow certain rules?”
“Come in,” he told her, “I’ll show you the ropes.”
He entered ahead of her, and Justine followed gratefully in his wake. The young man led the way to a line of people beside a folding buffet table.
“Welcome to St. Mary’s,” said an old lady with a paper hair covering. She handed them each a bowl.
“First timer,” the man said, jerking his head in Justine’s direction. “She’s a little nervous.”
“You’re welcome here,” the woman beamed. “My name is Gladys. You let me know if you have any questions or concerns.”
Justine nodded.
“Thanks. I’m Katie.”
“I’m glad you found us, Katie. We’re happy to be able to serve you.”
Justine shrugged uncomfortably.
“Okay, sure,” she agreed.
She followed the man as he moved on up the line, and they were offered not only a bowl of hot soup, but a white bun, and a salad, and raw vegetables with dip.
“Have some,” encouraged the soldier, motioning to the vegetables.
Justine wrinkled her nose.
“I don’t like raw carrots and stuff,” she said, shaking her head.
“They’re good for you!”
“Don’t care. They’re hard to chew.”
He looked at her, grinning crookedly.
“You look liked you’ve got all of your teeth,” he laughed. “You should be able to chew.”
Justine shrugged.
“I don’t like them,” she said, and didn’t take any.
“Your loss.”
The man loaded up his plate. He looked around.
“Sometimes there are other skaters around here,” he commented. “Usually over there. Yeah—in the corner on the far wall there, see? You want me to introduce you?”
“No, that’s okay. I can manage it.”
He touched her on the arm as she stepped toward the group of kids.
“They’re troublemakers sometimes,” he warned. “Rule breakers. So … you might want to be careful.”
Justine nodded.
“Yeah, thanks.”
She walked over to where the other skaters were gathered. She didn’t know any of them, and didn’t know how they would react to her. She hovered close by. One of the boys looked up and glanced over her.
“You skate?” he questioned, nodding at her board.
Justine nodded.
“Yeah.”
“Pull up a seat.”
Justine sat in one of the empty seats near them.
“Thanks.”
She put her tray down on the table, and her board under her seat, and started to eat, looking from one member of the group to the other.
“What’s your handle?” the boy who had invited her over questioned.
“Katie.”
“I’m Dickie.”
He indicated the various other members of the group, shooting off their names so quickly it was impossible for Justine to identify them. She nodded like she got them all.
“You new around here?” a blond girl with a knitted toque questioned.
“Yeah. Just rolled in a couple of days ago.”
“Cool.”
There was a sudden ruckus across the room. Everybody looked up to see what was going on. A hefty woman in a paper cap was hauling a skinny kid from a hallway beside the kitchen, shunting him toward the outside door. She was shouting at him, but Justine couldn’t make out what she was saying. Some of the skater kids started laughing.
“What’s going on?” Justine questioned.
“She caught Needles shooting up in the can,” a boy with a tattoo over half of his face explained. “Drug-free zone.”
Justine nodded. She looked around at them.
“So what’s he doing shooting up here, if they check the restrooms?”
“’Cause when you’re jonesing, you’re jonesing. Doesn’t matter where you are.”
Justine spooned her soup, which was pretty good. She’d been so long without a hot meal, it really hit the spot. After the woman pushed Needles out the door, she walked purposefully over to the corner the skaters were eating in.
“You kids have been warned. No bringing drugs in here. You’re banned.”
None of the kids moved.
“Out!” she insisted. “You can’t eat here anymore. We’re not putting up with drugs here.”
“Chill, Sister,” the tattooed boy said. “We didn’t do anything.”
“One of you breaks the rules, you’re all out. I’m not putting up with drugs around here.”
She grabbed hold of Dickie and pulled him to his feet. He was just about done eating, and just stood there looking at her.
“Out!” she repeated. “All of you. We’re not going to feed you here. Good honest people come here. Not drug addicts.”
Dickie jerked his head at the other skaters, and they obediently got up and followed him out of the room. Justine continued to eat her soup, ignoring their exodus.
“You too, missy,” the woman said, poking her.
Justine looked up at her.
“It’s my first time here,” she said. “I wasn’t with him.”
“Skaters out. No drugs allowed here.”
“I don’t have any drugs,” Justine said, shrugging, and not looking up from her soup, which she continued to spoon quickly before they could physically throw her out. “I’m not here with the others.”
The woman prodded her again.
“Go on. You’re not welcome here.”
Justine jerked away from her touch.
“If one black guy did drugs back there, would you kick out all the black guys? That’s not fair! I’ve never even seen the guy before.”
The severe woman looked at Justine.
“You’re pretty intent on staying here, are you?”
Justine wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
“I don’t know when the last time I had a real meal was,” she said. “I just want to eat.”
The bulldog of a woman softened slightly.
“You poor child. All right. Stay and f
inish. But if you’re going to hang out with those kids, or try to come in here with them, then you’re not going to be eating here again. Got it?”
Justine just turned her attention back to her food.
Later, Justine stepped out of the soup kitchen and stretched, loosening up her muscles. Looking around, she could see the small group of skaters doing tricks off of the stairs in front of the municipal building across the street. She glanced left and right at the traffic and darted across the street. There were a few honks, but nothing came close to hitting her. Dickie landed cleanly and watched her approach.
“Don’t tell me the dragon lady actually let you stay and eat,” he said.
Justine nodded.
“Sure. I’m such a sweet little thing, don’t you know?”
He grinned at her.
“So, you been boarding long?” he questioned, his eyes on the other kids doing stunts.
Justine shrugged.
“A few years. I don’t do a lot of tricks, though. They’re just my wheels to get from one place to another.”
He nodded understandingly.
“Sure,” he agreed. “Well, come and join us. Show us what you got.”
He gestured at the others. Justine surveyed the furniture, sorting out what she wanted to do. She warmed up a bit with some ramps and smallish jumps and grinds. Then she took a jump off of the upper flight of steps, and attempted a three-sixty flip. She managed the move, but barely kept her board on the landing, coming down hard and swaying off balance as she tried to settle it again.
“Nice,” the blond girl approved.
“Pretty good,” agreed a diminutive redhead boy, giving her a big freckled smile.
Justine tousled his already-messy mop and said ‘thanks.’
Without much more being said, she was accepted into the small band of skaters. She could skate, that was all that was needed.
“Some groups are harder to break into,” Rooster informed Justine sometime later in the day. “Some of them think they’re real gangs, with initiations and all. Gotta know the secret handshake,” he laughed. “But us … hey, we just love to skate. That’s all. Don’t care who you are or where you came from. You got the skills, or the drive, and you can hang out with us. Doesn’t matter if you’re a ten year old trying to nail your first ollie. That’s okay.”
Justine nodded.
“Do you have someplace you hang out? Like a base of operations? Or are you just … wherever? Where would I find you tomorrow, you know?”
“Some of the guys squat in a warehouse over on the west side. We’ll show you where. That’s a good place to start out, if you’re looking for us. You got a place to live?”
Justine shrugged, giving nothing away.
“It’s okay either way,” Rooster assured her. “Doesn’t matter to any of us. Some of us squat, some rent places of their own. Some still live with their families, go to school, even, and just join in when they can. You don’t have to have a place, or not have a place. It’s all cool.”
Justine was relieved that they were so laid back about everything. She loved the idea of being part of a skater community. Back home, it had been her and Christian. Now and then, they ran into other random skaters, showed off tricks for a while, and eventually went their separate directions, maybe running into each other again sometime, and maybe not. There was nothing to hold the community together. Not enough people to really form any kind of club or gang. Justine envisioned long days filled with nothing but skating. What could be better? Rooster had stopped talking and was looking at Justine. She tried to replay what he had been saying, but her mind had been on other things and she hadn’t caught anything.
“What?” she questioned. “Sorry, I spaced out.”
“Lay off the pharmaceuticals,” he joked. “I said if you need a place to stay, we could help hook you up. Where are you from?”
“Here and there,” Justine said vaguely. “And, yeah … it’d be nice to have a place to hang my hat. I’m finding park benches and shelters aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.”
“No kidding,” he agreed. “That’s a good way to get rolled, too. You set up with some of us, and we respect your stuff. No one’s gonna even touch your board without your permission.”
That would be a big relief. Every time Justine went to sleep, with her backpack under her head and her arms wrapped tightly around her board, she was worried that someone was going to be able to take it without her waking up. Then what would she do? Without her board, she’d be nothing. She couldn’t even get around.
“You got a nice board, by the way,” Rooster commented, eying it. “Where’d you get it?”
Justine put it on end and twirled it for him to see.
“Got it online,” she said. “No skating stores where I came from.”
“I bet it cost a bit of coin!”
“Yeah,” Justine agreed, “but I didn’t exactly use my own money to pay for it, so …”
He chuckled.
“Even better.”
The conversation was broken up for a few minutes as they both took turns jumping. Then they stood back and watched some of the others attempt their tricks.
“You know what else I like?” Rooster questioned, his eyes on the other skaters. He hooted when Dickie muffed a flip and ended up rolling across the sidewalk. Dickie got up and brushed himself off, shrugging at them, and then turned around to wait for his next opportunity. The boy with the tattooed face hadn’t done much jumping, but he had a camera that he variously set up on a tripod or followed them around with, zooming in and out.
“What else do you like?” Justine questioned vaguely, her eyes on a Hispanic girl who hadn’t yet pulled off anything spectacular, but had obviously been working hard on the fundamentals. She had a certain flair that made you want to watch her, made you expect a good show.
“Your hair,” Rooster said.
“What?” Justine said distractedly, turning to look at him with a frown.
“I like your hair. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone with hair that long. When you’re skating, and it’s floating and blowing around you …” he shrugged, face going a deep shade of red. “I dunno. It’s just … cool. That’s all.”
Justine swept her hair back with both hands, a bit self-conscious.
“Thanks,” she said, feeling her own face flush. “It’s been forever since I could really wash it or anything, so it’s kind of a mess.”
“No, it’s beautiful. I mean, it’s cool. If my hair was that long, I’d be afraid of getting it tangled in my wheels or something. But you look really … graceful.”
He cleared his throat and looked away from her. Dickie skated over.
“What are you two talking about?” he demanded. “You’re both as red as tomatoes! Rooster here propositioning you, new girl?” he suggested slyly.
“No,” Justine protested, shoving Dickie back a step. “We’re just talking skating.”
“Sure you are,” he said in an insinuating tone. “Just keep saying that and see if anyone believes you.”
“And I have a name, you know,” Justine told him.
“Yeah … but you need something cooler. And I haven’t decided what, yet. I’ll let you know when I do.”
Justine laughed.
“Okay,” she said, shaking her head, “But until then, it’s Katie, not ‘new girl’.”
“Fair ‘nough,” Dickie agreed, nodding.
Justine took her turn, botching a basic jump and grind, and returned to the little row of spectators.
“What’s the tattoo guy’s name?” Justine asked Rooster.
“Squints.”
“Dickie’s nickname?”
“Yeah. Dickie names most of us.”
Squints and a few of the others took Justine to the warehouse. They didn’t use the door to get into the warehouse. It was obviously sealed and padlocked. If anyone broke the lock, the cops or security company were sure to notice. There w
as a boarded-up window that had been rigged to swing open on a hinge, and after checking to make sure that no one was watching them, Squints swiveled a nail and then pulled on the boards, motioning for Justine to go ahead of him. A couple of the others jumped in behind. Justine looked around. It was dark, but there was enough light coming in through the other boarded up windows to dimly light the interior. There weren’t separate rooms, but it was obvious from the way that various crates and pallets had been set up that different living spaces had been carved out. There was a big central area with a half-barrel in the middle that Justine thought might be used for a fire. A few smaller areas contained mattresses and boxes that functioned as beds and dressers or side tables.
“If you’re looking for something fancy, this ain’t it,” Squints advised. “But it’ll do if you’re just starting out.”
“You live here?” Justine questioned.
“No. Crashed here a few times, but … I’ve got a lot of equipment, calls for more secure storage.”
Justine nodded.
“Yeah, makes sense.” She looked around. “So I can claim any space that’s not already in use?”
“Uh-huh. Drag stuff around and make yourself comfortable. Blondie is good at scrounging mattresses, she’ll show you were to go.” Squints looked around, hands on hips, “Look out for snakes,” he said casually, “they crawl in here looking for mice sometimes. Don’t kill them, they’re not usually poisonous. Just hungry. They keep the vermin down, so it’s best to just put up with them.”
Justine suppressed a little shudder. Snakes were not something she had much experience with. And she didn’t even know what a venomous snake might look like. Hopefully, she wouldn’t have to find out.
“It ain’t much,” Squints offered again.
Justine waved her hand at him.
“It’s fine. I’ve slept in worse places.”
He nodded.
“Okay, then.”
A while later, there was a scratching noise and a creak as the makeshift entrance opened up again, and a few more of the group came in.
Stand Alone Page 28
