Another bus was pulling up, people walking all around me. Car horns honked, tires screeched, announcements came over the loudspeaker. I spun around. Which way was I supposed to walk? Where was the park?
A man across the way was standing near the pay phones, checking me out. I walked away, fast.
Then I remembered Owen had told me to go straight down the main street. I held my packsack tight on my shoulder. Every time a vehicle pulled up behind me, I jerked around. People pushed past me, their shoulders rubbing against mine, giving me curious looks or not seeing me at all. I felt adrift, like a stick being tossed around in water. I saw a park off to the left, the bright bit of green in a sea of gray. I found a bench near the parking lot, pulled my packsack into my lap, and rested my chin on it.
I watched every vehicle come and go, wondering how long I’d have to wait. It was hot, the sun high in the sky and beating down. I was thirsty, my lips chapped, and I’d eaten my sandwich on the bus hours ago. I also needed to pee but was scared to go anywhere in case I missed my ride. Finally, the van pulled up.
The white-haired man rolled down the window. “You okay, kid?”
Despite the hair, he wasn’t that old, older than our dad but maybe just in his fifties, I wasn’t sure. His skin was tanned, his eyes pale green.
“Yeah.” I got up and came closer. I could see Dani and Courtney in the back. Courtney still had her head resting on Dani’s shoulder.
He stuck his hand through the open window. “Patrick. Pleased to meet you.”
I shook his hand but didn’t say my name. He just gave me a friendly smile and said, “Climb in.” The door slid open.
I went around the passenger side and took a seat, glancing in the back at my sisters. Dani looked tired, her head resting on the seat behind her, eyes half closed. I turned back around. Patrick’s van smelled like vanilla. I eyed an empty Tim Hortons coffee cup, the rim rolled down. There was a pile of scratch-and-wins stuffed in the ashtray, already scratched.
My eyes stung when I remembered the time Dani, Courtney, and I stole some change from Dad’s pocket and bought scratch-and-wins, sure we’d win and he’d be happy. We were stunned when all of them were “not a winner.” I made Dani scratch them all again. But we were still losers.
Patrick pointed to my feet. “Sandwich in the bag for you. Your sisters already ate theirs.” He put the van into gear and turned back onto the road.
“Where are we going?” I said, pulling the sandwich out of the bag. Turkey and bacon. I ripped into it.
Patrick reached behind him, tossed me a bottle of water.
“My house. My wife will help you clean up and we can talk about your situation.”
“Why are you doing this?” I spoke with my mouth full, too hungry to care.
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“People don’t do stuff for nothing.” I glanced back, noticed that both my sisters looked like they were asleep.
“This isn’t for nothing. I’m paying it forward.”
I looked at him curiously. “What does that mean?”
“It’s when someone did something good for you one day, so then you do good things for other people.” He glanced at me again. “Someone helped me out once. So now I help kids before they go down the same path.”
I looked at his tattoos. “You mean prison.”
“Among other things.” We drove in silence for a bit. “Your sister seems pretty messed up,” he said in a low voice.
“She’ll be okay.” She had to be okay.
He gave me another look. “Some people, they deal with stuff differently.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. “We’ll look after her.”
*
He told me we were on the east side and chatted about other areas of Vancouver like Kitsilano, Shaughnessy, Point Grey. The names blended together. He said the east side had some rough spots—where the homeless and addicts lived—but also lots of families who couldn’t afford the downtown prices. He stopped at McDonald’s so we could use the bathroom. Courtney was only limping slightly, but when I told her she was walking better she said she was still sore between her legs.
When we came out, Patrick had bought us milkshakes.
“You still looked hungry. Didn’t want you biting my arm or something.” He flexed his biceps and laughed, a surprisingly light sound for a big man.
I felt the corner of my mouth lift, almost smiled back, then stopped myself. I couldn’t let myself like him yet, couldn’t let down my guard.
Patrick’s house wasn’t very big, just a plain box covered in faded cream stucco that someone had tried to paint. We parked on the street in front. Patrick got out. He was muscled all over, with tree-trunk legs, broad shoulders, and a barrel chest. He reminded me of Angus, the Clydesdale. His T-shirt had a logo of a dark bird rising up.
He pushed open a wrought-iron gate, guarded on the other side by a garden gnome with a perky red hat. Someone had tied a doll’s scarf around its neck and added a pair of sunglasses. Dani and Courtney walked through. I stopped to look at the gnome.