The Cheat by Amy Goldman Koss

Author:Amy Goldman Koss [Koss, Amy Goldman]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781101658062
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2004-07-22T00:00:00+00:00

Rob

Reach for a blanket. Hand fishing in empty darkness wakes me. Weird to find myself here, crunched in a doorway like an old wino. Hadn’t noticed the cigarette butts and broken glass last night.

Get up and shake like a dog.

Have to whiz. No one’s around, but still, even animals don’t mess their nest. Go to the alley, take a leak on a Dumpster swarming with flies.

HUNGER!

Tough. No money. When’d I eat last? Must’ve been the cafeteria at lunch. Years ago. Can’t remember what I had.

Rack my brain. Suddenly hugely important for me to remember my last meal. Like that would mean nothing has snapped. I haven’t gone over the edge. It’s perfectly all right to find myself here, having spent the night in a doorway.

Wring my brain like a sponge. Finally squeeze out a drop of memory: Had been too freaked about flunking the midterm to eat lunch. So last meal musta been breakfast before school yesterday. Too hungry now to do the work it would take to remember what that breakfast was.

Occurs to me there could be some semi-all right stuff in the trash. Not in this reeking Dumpster—but in some nicer garbage. Thought cracks me up: nice garbage.

Stand scratching, watching the sky get lighter at the edge. Ask myself, Now what?

Only answer: Keep walking.

But feet hurt bad from yesterday’s blisters. Have to stop. Sit, then sprawl, on a bus bench. Catch a few more winks.

Wake in an entirely different world. Sunshine, traffic, stores open. Lady with groceries waiting for the bus four feet from my head.

Sit up. Feel scummy, stinky. Lady pretends not to notice me. I’ve done that: Tried not to stare at weirdos. Now I’m the weirdo.

Bus comes and the lady hurries on. Looks, no, glares at me through the bus window. Turns her head to stare longer until the bus carries her away. Must’ve thought I was a homeless drug addict loser, violent and crazy—sleeping on a bench.

Scratch my head. How long’s it take to get fleas? My kid brother would think it was a riot if I got fleas. Hope he doesn’t think I’ve left him. Hope Dad is leaving him alone. I should call.

Think of Ma, probably flipped out, imagining I’m lost or dead. Get up, look around for a pay phone. Find a broken one. Someone ripped off the receiver. I don’t have money anyway.

Feet are killing bad. Starving, mouth tastes like a sewer. Find a working phone a few blocks down. Ask three different people for change to make a call. All three walk past like they don’t see me.

Then notice the sticker right on the phone about collect calls. Raise the receiver, listen to the tone. Hope my kid brother answers. Ma is second best.

But what if Dad does? How will I explain worrying my ma like this? Have to tell him about the cheating stuff, too. Now he’ll be ten times as mad that I’ve been cowardly, didn’t come home and take my punishment like a man.

No winning this one.

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