Chapter 6
The morning sun stretched Brett's shadow out long.
It stretched all the way to my feet, blending right into my own shadow on the ground.
I couldn't remember the last time I walked alongside someone like this.
Brett was walking ahead of me, rambling on.
He said, "Hey, does the school cover lunch, or do you need to bring your own? How much do you need for spending money each day?
"Oh, and I'll give your teacher my number later.
"When school lets out, just give me a call and I'll come pick you up.
"It used to be your mom who picked you up, huh?"
I kept my head down, spacing out as I watched Brett's shadow stretch out in front of me while we walked.
My mom never gave me any spending money.
I always just lived day to day, getting by on whatever I could steal or hustle.
Sometimes, if I got lucky, I'd dig something out of the trash to sell, and that'd be enough to feed me for a couple of days.
As for school...
No one ever picked me up or dropped me off.
Most of the time, I couldn't even scrape together the two dollars for the bus.
So I'd walk the whole way home, about six miles.
Sometimes, when I was too tired to walk, I'd crash in some empty classroom and spend the night there.
Brett stopped in his tracks when I didn't answer, turning around to look at me, a little confused.
I snapped out of it and blurted out, "Got it.
"Uh, the food's five dollars."
He nodded.
He pulled out his wallet and handed me two ten-dollar bills.
Worried he'd shove them in my pocket, I snatched the money from his hand right away.
He paused for a second, then let out a soft laugh.
He said, "At your age, you need to eat more.
"Go ahead and fill up. No need to hold back or save the money."
My cheeks suddenly felt warm.
The wind blew right into my eyes, making them sting like there was sand in them. My vision was blurred as my eyes went red.
As we came up to a crosswalk, I looked over at the other side of the street. It was a place I knew all too well. And I suddenly came to a stop.
I muttered, "I-I need to go get a notebook across the street.
"The teacher said I have to bring a new one."
Brett glanced at me and said, "I'll go with you—"
But right then, his phone started buzzing.
He checked the screen, then looked back at me, a bit unsure.
It was probably his mom calling again.
I blurted out, flustered, "I can go by myself."
Brett glanced at his phone, still showing the incoming call.
After a moment, he nodded.
"Alright, just be careful. I'll wait here for you," he said.
I gave a quick nod and hurried across the street.
As soon as I reached the other side, the pedestrian light turned red.
The street was suddenly packed with cars, blocking my view of Brett.
I dashed into a small pawnshop and pushed open the glass door.
It was a private place, not exactly legit.
But it was the only spot that would take all the random junk I brought in.
The owner took the bracelet I handed him and held it up to the light, inspecting it closely.
After a moment, he shot me a look of pure disdain.
He said, "Every day you bring me crap, and now you think you've finally got something good?
"It's just a brass bracelet. Go give it to the scrap collectors. They'll take anything."
I lifted my chin and shot back, "This is a gold bracelet. Are you blind or something?
"Are you buying or not? If not, hand it over."
The owner slammed the bracelet down on the counter.
He said, "Why not call it a diamond while you're at it?
"70 dollars. I'm basically tossing you spare change like you're a beggar. Take it or leave it."
He didn't look like he was lying.
Then I remembered what Brett had told his mom.
He had said, "That thing's not worth much, really. If you find it, it won't do you any good."
Guess he was telling the truth after all.
With the way he was always barely making ends meet, Brett really didn't seem like the kind of guy who'd have a bracelet lying around.
I gritted my teeth and stared him down.
"200 dollars. I'll just find another buyer if you don't want it," I snapped.
Truth was, if he really said yes to 200 dollars, I'd probably just walk out with it.
Maybe it was actually worth something, and he was trying to scam me.
The guy's face turned stormy, and he waved me off, trying to shoo me out.
He said, "Get out.
"If I didn't think you were both annoying and pathetic, I wouldn't even bother with this 70-dollar deal for a piece of brass. I'm losing money just buying your junk.
"Beat it. 70 dollars, not a penny more."
Turned out it really was just brass.
Oddly enough, I felt relieved.
If I took the bracelet back now, it'd be like confessing I stole it.
But since it was basically worthless, Brett probably wouldn't even mind.
I'd let them hold onto it for now.
After a few days, when Brett and his mom stopped freaking out about it, I'd come back and pick it up.
Then I'd hide it somewhere and let Brett stumble across it by chance.
I walked out of the pawnshop with 70 dollars in my pocket.
With the bracelet gone from my pocket, I suddenly felt so much lighter.
It was like I could pretend I'd never stolen anything at all.
When I crossed back to the other side of the street, Brett was still standing there, waiting for me.
For as long as I could remember, no one had ever waited for me like this. He was so patient.
Back then, the only people waiting for me were teachers and classmates looking to make trouble, or street punks, or my mom, waiting to beat me up.
Or maybe it was one of those men my mom brought home.
They'd wait for me on my way home from school.
They'd ask where my mom was, but their hands would always creep onto my back.
As I walked up to Brett, I felt totally out of place.
Back then, I'd done all kinds of messed-up stuff, and honestly, I never cared if people hit me, yelled at me, or looked down on me.
Just like my mom always used to say. Guess people like me were born shameless and never bothered by what anyone thought.
But now, I couldn't help but wonder. 'Brett probably can't tell I'm feeling guilty, right?'
I'd just dashed into the pawnshop.
With the street so far away and all those cars in between, there was no way he saw me, right?
Maybe I still hadn't slept enough. My brain was all messed up.
Guess I'd have to catch up on sleep in class later.
Brett took me to meet my homeroom teacher.
When my teacher saw someone actually dropping me off, she looked like she'd just seen a ghost.
I kept my head down, feeling like there were needles pricking my back.
Or maybe it was like bugs crawling all over me.
I could hear Brett talking to my teacher, sounding super polite.
He dropped his voice, like he didn't want me to get upset.
He said, "Her mom left a will, asking me to look after her.
"I'm not old enough to do the legal adoption thing, so she's just living with me for now.
"If anything comes up regarding her, please contact me directly."
My homeroom teacher stood there in silence for a good while.
I quickly glanced up at her and saw a strange look on her face.
She had never met my mom.
No matter what happened to me at school.
No parent ever came to deal with it, no matter how many times the school tried to reach out.
She probably couldn't wrap her head around it, or maybe she couldn't believe it.
That someone like my mom, who never gave a damn about me, would even think to hand me off to someone else when she was dying.
Brett looked at the teacher, puzzled, then gave me a sidelong look.
After a moment, he spoke carefully.
He said, "Is she usually a good kid at school?"
My face heated up in an instant.