Page 18 of Bad Behavior

5

Jameson

1999

“Where are we going, Jameson?” Gunnar asks, squinting up at me. He looks pretty grubby in his oversized green hoodie and too-big jeans. They’re hand-me-downs from Asher’s closet.

“We’re going to Asher’s house,” I remind him. My voice cracks on the last word, and Gunnar giggles. “He said we should stop by before school.”

He’s only eleven, and at sixteen I feel impossibly tall next to him. I glance behind me as we walk down 8th Ave, checking to make sure that Forest is still trudging behind me. He’s thirteen and about as shut off from the world as he can get; he’s got his headphones on, the music turned up as loud as it can go.

I get where Forest’s head is at. Normally at thirteen, a kid would be rebelling against a parent or authority figure. But Forest’s parents are dead or gone, with the exception of me. I work two full time jobs, making minimum wage at both.

Frankly, I don’t have the time or energy to deal with any of Forest’s shit.

So Forest has just retreated from the world, preferring to listen to music or write in his journal. I wish I had that luxury, but that’s not my reality. Gunnar tugs on my hand.

“Can we get tacos from the taco stand again tonight?” he asks.

“Maybe,” I say, frowning. I do the math really quickly… the rent on our pay-by-the-week studio apartment is due in a couple of days. I can’t pay the rent, buy groceries for this week, and still afford to eat out at the cheapest taqueria. I grimace. “Maybe we’ll just eat some ravioli out of the can again.”

Gunnar doesn’t even bat an eye. “Okay.”

I thank god that Gunnar doesn’t have picky tastes. Grateful for that, I stifle a yawn. I’m burning one of my precious hours of sleep to come out here, because Asher promised something good. Beyond that, I am not sure why the fuck I’m here. I yawn.

“Hey, you turned in those papers that I gave you to the new school, right?”

Gunnar wrinkles his nose. “Yeah. The lady asked a lot of questions, but I think she bought it.”

I turn to look at Forest, motioning for him to take his headphones off. He rolls his eyes, but takes them off.

“What?” he asks.

“Gunnar said the lady you talked to at your new school had a lot of questions.”

Forest rolls his eyes again. “I mean, she asked all kinds of things. But I stuck to the plan, and let her fill in the blanks. I’m pretty sure that she thinks that we’re like, illegal immigrants or something.”

“Did anyone else ask anything?” I feel paranoid, but this is the third school district that they’ve been to in as many years. Every time that we draw too much attention, DFACS gets called. Before we know it, Forest and I are busting Gunnar out of a new foster home in the middle of the night.

No way I’m letting that happen again, if I can help it.

“If you talk to anyone for more than a few seconds, I want to hear about it.”

He just nods, putting his headphones back on. I slap him.

“I mean it.”

“Yeah, all right,” he says. Then he purposely turns his music up so loud that I can hear it, tuning me out.

I shake my head a little, hurrying to catch up to Gunnar.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

He gives me a puzzled look, as if to say, why wouldn’t everything be okay? I ruffle his hair a little.

We turn right, and the neighborhood suddenly changes. It gets wealthy, with giant houses on amazing lawns. The sidewalks are smoother here, and there are a lot of palm trees everywhere. I don’t know how the rich people even manage to keep a lawn alive here, so close to the ocean.

Two women in running gear brush by us, giving us the stink eye. No doubt they are wondering what three kids from the wrong side of the tracks are doing walking here.

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