She had often served food and remembered the people seemed so grateful to get donated food. Her stomach growled. She was hungry but the money daddy gave her was dwindling quickly so she was rationing her food.
“God,” she whispered. “If you help me, I promise, I’ll help out more.”
She came to the library each morning to warm up and washed in the bathroom. She had bought a couple of pairs of underwear at the dollar store on Division Street and she washed them out in the sink. But the rest of her clothing stank. After the first night, behind the library freezing in the cool late summer night, Sasha had gone inside Meijer’s to buy a sleeping bag. She was terrified to talk to anyone. She caught the bus to the mall on 28th street and walked around all day. She went to Barnes and Nobles bookstore and sat reading for most of the day. Then she caught the bus back downtown, looking for someplace to stay.
In Lansing, she only had a few friends. Most girls didn’t like her or considered her competition from whatever boy they liked. Sasha figured it wasn’t her fault that she had a pretty face but everybody else acted like she had something to do with it. She regretted getting on the Greyhound bus, instead of trying to stay with one of her friends but she hadn’t considered that her father wouldn’t help her. She was still devastated by his betrayal.
The second night, Sasha went to the homeless shelter. The men with red, rheumy eyes leered at her and frightened her so much she left as soon as it was light out. She caught the bus to a place called Rosa Parks Circle and sat on a bench, crying. Later in the evening, there was a rock concert and she watched the performance. That night, she lay on the same park bench, eyes wide and terrified over every sound.
By the fifth morning, Sasha was ready to give up.
“Excuse me.”
Sasha slewed around, fearful.
“I cannot help but notice you are looking for a shelter,” said the young woman. She had short brown hair and wireless glasses. “You probably need to go to the Department of Health and Human Services first.”
“What’s that?” asked Sasha.
“It’s the fancy name for the welfare office,” said the woman.
“Oh,” said Sasha. “But I just need a teen shelter for a few days until I decide what I’m going to do. I don’t know about welfare.”
The woman nodded. “All searches begin there. The stuff on the Internet may or may not be updated. Those kinds of places close a lot because of funding shortages. Y could be all over Grand Rapids looking for something that is open. And they may not have anything for you. Do you have transportation?”
Sasha shook her head.
The woman reached past Sasha to the computer. “May I?”
Sasha nodded and slid over to make room.
“By the way,” said the woman. She punched several keys on the computer. “My name is Andrea. I’m one of the librarian assistants here. Your presence has been noted. You haven’t changed clothes in several days. If you can’t find someplace soon, I’ll have to call the police and they will take you to juvenile if you are a runaway.”
“But I haven’t done anything wrong!”
“I know,’ said Andrea. “Voila!” She pointed to the screen.
“Department of Health and Human Services address,” she said. “It’s not too far from here. You can catch the bus on the corner.”
Sasha nodded, miserable. Kicked out again.
Brielle
The last one in the pool, Brielle was finishing her after practice laps. She glided through the water easily, lap after lap. Her coach had told her that if she put in the work, her times would drop and she’d be a world class swimmer in no time. Brielle dreamed of being the first black woman swimmer to win an Olympic medal and was very serious about swim training. As the only black girl on the swim team she spent a lot of time alone. One, she didn’t hang out much with the other members of the swim team and two, they didn’t really hang out that much with her. Oh, she went to the before race pasta dinners and stuff, but she wasn’t a white girl when all was said and done and her weekends were usually filled with debutante activities, getting her braids redone, or hanging out with family and doing church on Sunday.
The coach was in the office next to the pool because no one was allowed to swim alone. The office had a window so that the coach could look out at the pool and still get work done. When Brielle finished her twentieth after practice lap, her arms and legs felt leaden and dead. She hoisted herself up out of the pool and padded over to the bleachers where she’d left her towel, leaving a trail of wet footprints on the tiles.
She bent on shaky legs down to grab a towel and pulled her goggles and swim cap off of her head in one smooth motion, her braids falling to her shoulders. She dropped the goggles and swim cap on the floor and covered her face with the large black towel.
“Hey,” said a soft, deep voice, from somewhere in the bleachers.
Brielle whirled toward the voice and looked up at Damon, lounging on the top bleacher.
She stared at him for a few seconds, drinking in his presence, and then turned her shoulder away from him to continue drying off her body. He had already embarrassed her last week. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? Then she wouldn’t be stumbling and bumbling all over the place. She heard him step down towards her but did not turn around. Maybe he would go away if she ignored him.
She felt a gentle touch on her shoulder and whirled around, flinging droplets of water into the air.
“What do you want?” she asked.
She’d seen him hanging with
