The bed was a pile of smelly, moth eaten blankets. He had made himself a small bookcase out of off cuts of timber and old cinderblocks. Piles of CDs and books lined the uneven shelves. He had gotten a battery operated camping lamp from somewhere and it stood haphazardly on top of an overturned chair.
“Yeah. For now anyway. The police come in and do a sweep every now and then and we all have to leave. But they were just here two weeks ago, so we’re all good for a little while at least,” Yoss had explained gruffly. “Look, I know it’s not five star accommodations but at least you won’t get wet when it rains.” He wouldn’t look at me, and I felt like an ass for belittling where he lived.
“No, this is fine. Great actually,” I had said overly brightly. Yoss had cocked an eyebrow in disbelief.
“Yeah, it’s the Ritz-fucking-Carlton,” he remarked dryly.
“I appreciate it, Yoss. I really do,” I said, touching his arm. He tensed at the physical contact and I quickly removed my hand.
We had settled down on the pile of blankets, my back to Yoss. He hadn’t touched me. He seemed careful about that. He had hummed a song under his breath as I drifted off to sleep.
The screaming had finally stopped and I pulled the sleeves of my sweatshirt down over my cold hands. It was chilly as I huddled against the wall.
Yoss finished his cigarette and dropped it in an old soda can. “So, Imogen, what’s the plan?”
I ran my hands through tangled hair and wished I could get a shower, but that was the least of my issues. I was hungry. I was still tired, having only slept a few hours on the concrete floor. I had no idea what I was going to do or where I was going to go. I couldn’t depend on Yoss’s ongoing generosity. I was sure he had other things to worry about, let alone some strange girl he had just met.
Yoss was asking me about my plan.
The truth was I didn’t have one. I hadn’t thought much beyond getting out of my house and being on my own. I realized how shortsighted that was.
“I don’t know,” I admitted defensively.
Yoss dug around in his meager belongings until he found a toothbrush and an almost empty tube of toothpaste. He squeezed some paste onto the worn bristles and put it in his mouth.
I found myself smiling in spite of everything. The idea that Yoss was worried about dental hygiene seemed incredibly funny.
“Hey, the last thing I need is a cavity. It’s not like I can afford a dentist,” he reasoned. “It’s easier to scrounge up some money for cheap toothpaste than having a rotting hole in my mouth.”
“Yet you smoke. Shouldn’t lung cancer be a concern then?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.
Yoss smirked. “Touché, smartass.”
“But I get it. I really do. I’m just surprised is all,” I said, wiping the smile off my face so I wouldn’t insult him any further.
“How old are you, Imi?” he asked after spitting the toothpaste into a plastic cup.
“Sixteen,” I answered.
“You’re a baby, then,” Yoss teased, putting his toothbrush away and pulling a pair of socks from the bag holding his clothes.
“How old are you?” I threw back, annoyed.
“I’ll have you know, I just turned eighteen on Christmas Eve. I think I look pretty good for my advanced age.” Yoss grinned and I couldn’t help but smile back.
“You’re positively ancient,” I deadpanned.
Yoss chuckled. “Okay, so you’re sweet sixteen. Are you still in school?”
School. I hadn’t really thought about that. “Uh. Yeah. I’m going to be a junior in the fall. But I guess that’s not so important now.”
Yoss frowned. “Why wouldn’t going to school be important now? I’d think that would be the most important thing you have going on.”
I gestured around us. “Because I’m sleeping here. I can’t go to high school when I can’t go home.” I cringed at how shrill I sounded.
“Well, you’ve got a couple of months before you have to worry about that. Things could be really different by then,” Yoss said, taking off his old socks and putting on new ones. He followed that up by putting on fresh deodorant and running a comb through his slightly out of control hair. He seemed very particular about his hygiene, which seemed incongruous with the whole homeless thing he had going on.
“I can’t go home,” I told him firmly.
“You mentioned that last night.” He didn’t push for more information and I appreciated that. Because if he had, I would have told him to go to hell. But he didn’t. I supposed everyone had stories they didn’t want to tell.
Yoss got to his feet and he held out his hand. I let him pull me up. The sun was just rising, light streaming through the dirty windows. The Pit was even more depressing in the light of day than it had been during the dead of night.
“Come on, let’s see if we can find something to eat,” Yoss said softly, leading me out of the warehouse and into the cool morning.
I felt gross. As though a thin layer of grime coated my skin. I wanted to brush my teeth and put my long hair back. My deodorant had worn off and I could smell myself.
But none of that really mattered. I had to learn to prioritize the things I worried about. And getting food was way more important than washing my face.