Page 30 of Fight for Me

What are people throwing out? Fucking bricks?

Knowing I don’t have much time because if the cops won’t find me in the building, they will search around the area, I pull myself to my feet and climb out of the large container. I ignore the pain in my leg and limp toward the back alley.

I walk for maybe around thirty minutes, turning into random streets, looking over my shoulder constantly, and hiding my face with my hair as a police patrol drives right past me, before finding a bench in a shady-looking neighborhood. Plopping down breathless and sweaty, I take out my phone from the pocket of my jeans, happy that the small device and I became inseparable the last week. Right now, it’s my only lifeline.

I look at the screen and am a little alarmed when I don’t see any missed calls from Brody waiting there. I would have thought Ruth had already called him to tell him what’s happened and that he’d be searching for me.

Taking a deep breath, I click on his number and curse when the signal rings and rings until the answering machine picks up to ask me to leave a message. I dial again and this time the machine picks up right away. Oh, no. Please, God, tell me he didn’t turn off his phone. I try with the same effect and then try again.

I’m to the point of hysterics when I see the battery on my phone is almost dead. Grabbing my new hair, I tug on it and say, “Fuck it all to shit.”

Leaning back on the bench, I look up at the sky and shudder. I rub my arms, trying to keep warm as the temperature slowly drops.

What do I do now? Was Brody just talking out of his ass the whole time and didn’t give a shit in reality?

And the more important question, how did my father even find me here? I thought my situation couldn’t get more fucked up.

I thought I touched rock bottom last week. Yet, I was wrong. So, so wrong. It can always get worse because now I have no money, no clothes, and no roof over my head. And to make matters worse, I’m still searched by the police for things I didn’t even do. Well mostly, if you don’t count the stealing part, which turned out to be all for nothing anyway as everything was in my bag that stayed at the shelter.

I think about at least trying to get back there to collect them, but then quickly decide against it. It’s too risky to show my face there so soon, and truth be told, I don’t know if I would be even able to find the place right now. I didn’t keep count of the streets I passed. I don’t even know in what part of Madison I am at.

My heart jumps in my throat when my phone pings with a notification and I scramble quickly to unlock it, thinking it may be a message from Brody. A heartbroken wail almost leaves my lips when I see it’s just the device informing me it’s in need of a charger, with only five percent to spare.

I look at the last sunbeams disappearing behind buildings and breathe out slowly before trying one last time. When the answering machine picks up again, I close my eyes, willing the tears to stop.

After the beep, I clear my throat and say, “Hey, Brody. If you’re hearing this, you probably already know that I had to run. I’ll be fine, though. I just wanted...” My voice breaks, so I try again. “I just wanted to say thank you for getting me out and trying to help, even if not everything worked out. I’ll never forget your kindness.”

I swap angrily at the lonely tear that escaped before continuing. “I have one last request, though. If you run into Claire by any chance, could you please tell her not to worry about me? And tell her that I love her and that being friends with her was the best thing that ever happened to me.” I choke on my tears before I can get the last part out. “Goodbye, Brody.”

The call ends just before the screen goes blank, and I throw the phone into the nearest garbage can.

I sit back down and break into uncontrollable tears, crying my heart out for all the unfairness of the world. When will I catch a fucking break? I’m seventeen years old, for fuck’s sake. I should be sitting at Claire’s, gossiping about boys, watching shitty horror movies, and talking smack about our teachers. Not become a homeless criminal on a run from her deranged father.

“Hey, are you all right?” A masculine voice pulls me out of my pity party, and I look up to find three guys standing there and giving me measuring looks. Two of them look quite scary but the one in the middle, who, I’m assuming, is the one who asked, wears a concerned expression on his face.

I sniffle and straighten up from my hunched position. “I got... lost.”

The two threatening men snort, but the nicer-looking one steps further and asks, “Do you need help? I’m Ricky and these two are Alto and Churro.” He points at each of his companions, introducing them. “And what’s your name, beautiful?”

I hesitate before going with the truth, “Jenny.”

“Jenny,” Ricky tastes the name on his lips and smiles coyly before bowing his head slightly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jenny. Now, I’m not a man who likes to watch pretty girls cry. Sitting on their own in a neighborhood like this. This is not a good place to get lost in, little Jenny.”

I narrow my eyes at him and stand up, ignoring the way Ricky’s eyes survey my body. “I didn’t ask for your opinion, Ricky. And you don’t exactly choose a place in which you get lost. That’s fucking stupid.”

Ricky’s smile stretches wider. “Oh, I like you, Jenny.”

I roll my eyes and deadpan, “Glad you approve. But I couldn’t care less.”

Ricky laughs and ignores my comment. “Tell you what, the guys and I were just going to get some food. Why don’t you join us, and later we can hang out, have some beers, and chill together.”

“Does chilling together require taking off my clothes?” I ask dryly, ready to get away from here.

Again, the man laughs and looks at me like I’m the funniest creature in the world. “Not if you don’t want to. When I say chill, I mean chill. And it doesn’t look like you have anywhere else to be at the moment. So,” he claps his hands once. “Are you coming, Jenny?”

“Why would I go anywhere with strangers?” I ask and rub my shoulders.

“Darling, we’re not exactly strangers. We came over and introduced ourselves, so you already know who we are.” He waves his hand, gesturing around the street. “It’s the others that are strangers, and I can’t exactly promise you that they will all be as friendly as us.”

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