Sia (12 page)

Finally, the girl with the Hawaiian-looking, exotic features allows her frown to melt into something more friendly. There’s a noticeable toughness about her, but the curl of her lips suggests she’s laughing at me. “I think I like this new Sia,” she says.

“
Yeah? What’s so different from the old version?” I ask.

The group looks away, not wanting to share. Again. Even Kyle, who’s been watching from behind the counter, finds something to occupy himself with.

I take a breath for courage. “Come on. Tell me. Was I a snob like Amber?”

“
Worse,” blurts smiling Hawaiian, who isn’t smiling anymore. “Much worse. Out of all of them, you were the most ruthless.”

I feel all the blood drain from my face, and the sweet remnants of chocolate in my mouth suddenly lack taste. Worse than Amber? How can anyone be worse than Amber?

The other girl nods, pensive.

“
You made our lives a living hell,” the most talkative one says flatly.

Tears swell in my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I drop my gaze to the table. “I’m sorry,” I mutter. “I—I didn’t know.” This is a nightmare. Worse than Amber? I couldn’t possibly be. Not me. Not like her, of all people.

I am so caught up in my grief and guilt that I don’t even see them leave. The bell over the door rings cheerfully as they open the door, then again as it latches behind them.

After a few moments, I look up and see they’ve gone. The table is vacant, its shiny red surface still littered by crumbs. Evidence that I hadn’t been dreaming. No, this is definitely real. I’m not going to get out of it that easily.

In this moment, I feel more alone than I’ve ever felt before. More alone than I’d felt huddling in the rain under a bridge, lost and desolate, which felt like a lifetime ago. It was worse than when I’d woken up in the park and realized I didn’t know who I was.

Ignorance was bliss. I’d give anything to change things as they were, fix this shattered existence. It burns at my chest and makes my breath arrest as I ponder this.

Could it be different? Nothing is set in stone, right?

With this, a swift determination brings me to a decision: I will never be alone again, not like this, ever. “I can change. I am not
her
anymore.” I tell myself as tears trickle down my cheeks. “I know I’m not.”

Kyle clears his throat from a few feet away. “Do you want a bag so you can take that home?”

I glance up quickly, startled. With everything else on my mind, I’d forgotten all about him. I blink at the cinnamon bun, confused for a moment. My appetite is gone, but the pastry is still there, its frosting shining under the fluorescent lights. As I stare at it, a new clarity works its way into my mind. “Yes,” I say quietly. “In fact, I’d like a big bag. And I want to fill it up.”

“
Okay. Anything in particular?” he asks.

“
All different things. Whatever you can fit into the biggest bag you’ve got.”

“
You still hungry? Or is this for tomorrow?”

In my mind, I picture Carol and the others, hungry but surviving. “I have some friends who will really appreciate it.”

“
Who?”

I get to my feet and go to the side of the counter. “You know how you told me you sometimes bring day-old bread to the soup kitchen?”

“
Yeah. Why?”

“
Well, I’m thinking those same people could use a little after-dinner snack.”

Kyle frowns at me as he gently stacks the baked goods in the bag. “You’re going downtown
tonight?
Nuh-uh. Don’t do it. It's dangerous down there at night.”

I put some twenty dollar bills by the register. “Actually, I
have
to go. I need to find my friend Carol and let her know I’m okay. She’ll be worried.”

“
Your friend? Really? A homeless person?”

“
Yes,” I spit defensively, “a homeless person is my friend. And friends miss each other when they’re apart.”

His eyebrows lift as my words sink in. “You’re right. I shouldn't have said that.”

I reach over the counter and take the bag. “Okay, well, I’ll see you later.”

He nods, but he’s frowning. “Wait,” he says as I reach the door. “You’re going like that? Armed with nothing but a bag of doughnuts and rolls?”

“
Ha-ha,” I reply, scowling at his wry expression. “Not exactly. I have mace in my purse. I'll be fine.”

“
I’m not sure about that,” he says slowly.

“
Don’t worry about it.” I reach for the doorknob and the friendly little bell over the door gives a jingle, but I stop when Kyle speaks again.

“
You know,” he muses, “there is a difference between doing something charitable and doing something incredibly stupid.”

I scoff. How dare he suggest I’m stupid?

He sees my reaction and shrugs. “I’m just saying. Take a minute to think about what you’re about to do.”

“
I have.”

“
That so?”

“
Yes,” I snap. Still holding his gaze, I jerk my chin toward the street. “I was homeless for a week, remember? I know how dangerous it is out there. I know it firsthand, better than most. I can handle it.” I straighten, but to be honest, his suggestion has me a little concerned. Am I being too impulsive? Even if I am, I refuse to back down now. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I'm going.”

He shakes his head. “You are one strange girl, Sia.” His eyes soften just a little, and a smile curls one side of his mouth.

He’s actually quite handsome.

“
Do me one favor?” he asks.

“
What?”

“
Be careful.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The night seems darker than I remember it. Maybe I should have listened when everyone said to stay away, but it feels important that I be there. Especially now. Starting tonight, I am determined to change my life, to become the kind of person I should have been all along.

The familiar bridge looms in the distance, a ghostlike gray in the night, and I pick up my pace. At least I’d left those ridiculous high heels at home.

From out of the night staggers a man. I shriek, suddenly not so brave. I can see the whites of his eyes, wide in a filthy face. His arms are stretched out before him, and from his strange, swaying stride I could swear he’s a zombie.

“
We're all dead!” he screams.

I skitter back out of the way, avoiding his outstretched arms and clutching the BooBoo’s bag even tighter.

His eyes are bloodshot and his open mouth shows me teeth that are either missing or black with rot. His hair is matted, clinging in greasy, dirty clumps around his neck. He keeps coming, forcing me to retreat until my back is against the cement barrier beside the road.

“
Get away from me!” I yell, digging in my purse for the mace.

“
The apocalypse is near! You’re doomed!
Doomed!
”

“
Go away!” There it is. My fingers close around the canister just as the creature grabs my arm. I scream again and struggle to get a grip on the can, which keeps slipping out of my sweaty fingers.

“
Hey! Get lost, lunatic!” says Kyle as he appears and marches right up to my attacker.

I’ve never been so happy to find out someone’s been following me. My knees wobble with relief.

“
The end is near! We’re all gonna die!” the man screeches.

“
Yeah, yeah, I know,” Kyle mutters. “Just go away.”

The manic eyes blink, unsure, but when Kyle keeps stalking toward him, he disappears into the night he’d creeped out of.

I let go of the mace, feeling spent. My entire body is shaking. “Oh, Kyle! Thank you so much! I don’t know what—”

He is furious. “Of course you don’t know!” he shouts. “I can’t believe you actually went through with this! Do you know how stupidly reckless it was? You could be killed out here, Sia.”

“
Hey!” I say, matching his mood. “I’m not stupid. You can’t call me that!”

“
Why not? You’ve been calling people much worse for years.”

Anger surges through me. I’ve had enough. “Haven’t we been over this already? I apologized. I told you I had no idea.”

“
Yeah, whatever.”

“
No! Don’t you ‘whatever’ me.” All the frustration of the day bubbles up, and I let it out. “You all treat me like I’m a monster, only I’ve told you I don’t remember a thing. Why doesn’t anyone believe me? What do you need,
a doctor’s note?
” I puff out a breath and shake my head. “Well, I’m not doing that. I don’t have to prove anything to you or anyone else. I've already apologized. And if you’re not mature enough to accept it, well, that’s your problem, Kyle, not mine.”

In the headlights of a passing car, I see Kyle glare at me and cross his arms over his chest. His strong posture gives no indication that he’s buying my apology. Enraged, I spin on my heel and storm away, furious at the tears that press against my eyes.
I will not cry
.
I will not.
On one hand, I wish he wasn’t there at all; on the other, it’s reassuring that he is. His presence makes me feels safer. No way I’m going to admit that to him, though.

Kyle’s sneakers pad against the pavement a few steps behind my own.

I keep walking. I’ve come here for a reason, and I’m not going to give up just because of one crazy person.

After a while, Kyle jogs a little to catch up with me. Neither of us speak. When we get to the bridge, he follows, watching me approach the homeless people. Now he stays much closer to me. He clearly expects another attack, but he doesn’t know these people like I do.

Knowing I’m not in danger—not here—I look over the little crowd, my eyes seeking Carol’s familiar form, but I don’t see her anywhere. I know most of the people here and have slept under the bridge with a lot of them, and I feel no fear when I greet them. There’s a problem, though. Most of them don’t recognize me now that I’m all cleaned up, and I seem to make them nervous.

What a confusing life I lead. At home and school, I’m constantly being told to clean up and make myself presentable. But out here, I feel I almost have to apologize for having done that.

“
I’m looking for Carol,” I say to one old man.

He curls in a corner, gripping a bottle. His yellow-rimmed eyes are dull and unaware. He doesn’t speak.

Okay. Maybe a different approach. I reach in my bag and pull out a donut. I hold it out and speak gently, trying to coax him toward me. “This is for you.”

The grimy fingers tremble, but they eventually find their way to the doughy treat. He doesn’t even look at me; he just stares at the donut, sniffs it, then bites it.

The scenario repeats itself as I ask around. I receive varying degrees of gratitude, verbal and otherwise. But no one knows where Carol is.

Finally, I see a man standing off on his own, leaning against a shopping cart. “Tito!” I say quietly, approaching the little man.

His shopping cart is about a quarter full of bottles and cans. He eyes me suspiciously when I come close.

“
Do you remember me? I’m Carol’s friend. You remember Carol?”

“
Carol’s not here,” he mutters.

“
Where is she?”

“
She’s gone.”

Fear coils in my belly. I remember that horrible night when poor Patch was attacked by that gang, their shadows jerking violently at the side of the bridge. I pray to God that nothing like that happened to Carol. No one would hurt her, would they?

“
How long has she been gone?” Kyle asks.

I jump, as I didn’t expect him to speak.

Tito apparently didn’t either, because he shyly backs away, tugging the noisy cart with him.

“
It’s okay, Tito,” Kyle says. “I won’t touch your cart. You know me from the soup kitchen. I bring you bread, remember?”

The suspicion in Tito’s despondent eyes never eases. Neither does the iron grip he has on the cart’s handle. However, something in his expression relaxes almost imperceptibly, making him appear just the slightest bit more trusting.

“
How long, Tito? When did Carol go away?”

Tito’s gaze flickers to my face. “Since you left.”

I let out a long breath, trying to calm my panic. What could have happened? Where has Carol gone? Is she safe? “Okay, Tito.” I step closer. “Hey, you have a good collection of cans in there. I have something else I’d like to put in there, okay?” He watches warily as I set the BooBoo’s Bakery bag in the cart. It still contains a few treats. “For you, Tito. You can share if you want. I’m sorry I didn’t bring any cans,” I explain, wondering just how much he really understands.