Forgotten: Seventeen and Homeless by Melody Carlson

Author:Melody Carlson [Carlson, Melody]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Tags: Christian, Juvenile Fiction, Fiction, General, Religious, high school, Social Issues, High Schools, Schools, School & Education, Christian Young Reader, Homeless Teenagers, Christian Life, Homeless Persons, Homelessness & Poverty
Publisher: NavPress
Published: 2010-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

n Friday morning I feel strangely energized. Like maybe I can pull this off for a while longer after all. Knowing I have a night off from work- not to mention going to the dance and everything else-well, I almost feel like I'm on top again. Like I might be able to survive my life.

Bristol seems oddly quiet in art. Lindsey and I make small talk, and I'm a bit surprised to hear that Lindsey is going to the dance too. For some reason, I assumed this librarian's helper had little or no life.

"Byron's just a friend of mine from youth group," Lindsey admits to me. "But I think it'll be fun just the same." Then she tells me about her dress. Something she and her mom found at a vintage shop, and it actually sounds very cool. I try not to feel envious to hear of a mom who's involved with her daughter like that.

"My dress is kind of vintage too," I say to Lindsey as I smooth the tip of my charcoal stick into a point.

"How so?" Bristol asks.

I'm surprised she's even been listening to us, but even more caught off guard by the frosty tone of her voice. As a result, I'm sharply reminded that I'm going to the very dance Bristol has been left out of ... with the very guy she wishes she was going with. For me to talk about it like this, right in front of her, especially considering how exceptionally kind she's been to me lately, well, it's not very thoughtful on my part. I wish I could retract my entire conversation with Lindsey. What was I thinking?

"It's just a plain black dress," I say quickly, shrugging like Genevieve's favorite dress is simply an old rag. "Pretty basic, really." Then to change the subject, I ask Bristol about her drawing, lavishing what I hope sounds like sincere praise upon her.

But despite my efforts, she seems cool and distant now. I'm certain I must've offended her. I so wish I hadn't said anything about the dance. She's obviously jealous. Finally the bell rings, and since I've already packed up my things, I take off without even saying good-bye. I cannot get out of the art room soon enough.

"Hey, what's the big hurry?" Jayden jogs to catch up with me on my way to the cafeteria.

"Oh, sorry." I slow down for him. "I guess I'm just used to rushing around these days. It's like I'm on fast-speed or something."

"So ... how's your mom doing now?"

"She's better. Fortunately, she's well enough to get moved to the nursing home now." As twisted as it sounds, I actually imagine a pale sick image of my mom resting in one of the beds at River Woods Care Center. It's like the lies are affecting my brain.

He smiles. "Good to hear."

"Yeah, it is. I mean, she's still really weak and her lungs are damaged, but she should recover . . . in time." I glance away from him, hating myself for this false world I've created.

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