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Chapter1
My stomach growled uncomfortably loud as I stood awkwardly in front of the dingy fast food counter.
Not eating anything solid for over three days apparently does that to you, and my body was impatient to get something in my rumbling belly.
“You gonna pay or like…ummm…”
I stared at the bleach-blonde barbie in front of me as she watched me, one hand on her hip. She smacked her lips around her gum once and raised her eyebrows expectantly.
I returned her fake smile with a forced one of my own as I dug out the assortment of change I’d earned singing on the corner of Rock Creek Park for the past hour.
It was just enough for a double cheeseburger and a soda. Another pop of bright pink bubble gum made me pause and inhale slowly, reminding myself that going off on said blondie wasn’t going to make me feel better in the long run. Instead, I politely and silently handed her my change.
She gave me a once-over and clearly couldn’t help herself as she wrinkled her nose. I bit my tongue. I didn’t want spit in the first meal I’d had in days, but it was clear this princess wasn’t used to seeing people like me much. Shocking seeing as she worked across the street from the park where most of the homeless spent their time once the weather was nice. But her wandering eyes that shone with discomfort at my position in front of the counter would lead me to believe she must not work here often. Most likely, she was out of school for the summer and either being punished or forced to learn in the real world by daddy and mommy dearest.
That’s not fair.
My subconscious poked at me furiously. I swallowed the guilt rising in my throat at the nasty direction my thoughts had turned. Even if she did start it with her judgy nose crinkle, I should know better than anyone about judging someone based on appearances. After all, I was standing there in an oversized t-shirt and sweatpants with my plain-looking brown hair pulled back in a messy ponytail.
I looked like a bum, but I wasn’t. No. At least not yet.
I liked to think I was a survivor. And no one could take that from me.
The blonde, whose name tag read Sandy—perfect name for a princess—deposited my money and then looked over her shoulder on both sides. She glanced around me as well. Should I be watching my back for some reason?
Then she leaned closer. “You know, you don’t have to put up with treatment like that.” She leaned back. “Bad boyfriend?”
I opened my mouth, but wound up gaping like a dead fish. I had no idea what to say. Both from the shock that she’d care enough to say something, but also because, well, what do you say?
“I’m sorry?”
Sandy touched her cheek, which automatically triggered me to bring my hand up to my own. I knew what I’d find. The blood from the small split on my cheek had dried, but the skin was warm and tender. It was most definitely bruised. Hopefully purplish instead of the ugly greenish brown my last one had instantly turned into.
I cleared my throat. “Right, thanks.”
Perhaps it was nice of her. She looked proud for saying something to me, but then her gaze filled with pity almost just as quickly.
I loathed looks of pity. I didn’t need to correct her and tell her I’d never let a man close enough to be a boyfriend. No, this shiner was from Darryl. Foster dad of the year. Though the “dad” in foster dad was even too strong a term of endearment for what Darryl was.
The food bag landed on the counter with a thud and I immediately snatched it, not worrying about how greedily I’d wrapped my fingers around it. I turned on my heel, practically running out of the place before Sandy could say anything else.
I inhaled the night breeze the minute I was free from the public restaurant. It didn’t matter that it was humid and sweat beaded on my back instantly. It didn’t matter that the air was clouded with the smog of a city. No, all of that I could handle because it was out of sight from watchful eyes of pity. That is until an elderly woman walking in looked me over skeptically before proceeding through the doors behind me.
Another look of pity. Only this one was mixed with judgement. I touched my bruise again, brushing my fingers over it gently. Like I could somehow make it disappear. It wasn’t my first, and if I stayed in my foster home, it wouldn’t be my last.
The lights from Rock Creek Park distracted me momentarily before I glanced down at my watch. I should be home. If I went now, there’d be a fight about where I’d been. Maybe if I waited a little longer though, I could sneak in. Maybe.
I crossed the street and jogged until I was farther into the park. The small beads of sweat that tickled my back were now everywhere. Damn this heatwave.
Despite the t-shirt clinging awkwardly to my damp limbs, I was relieved the minute I slowed down and really took in the expanse of the park from the edge of the entrance. Rock Creek Park, with its vast space of winding paths, gardens, fountains, trees, and greenery in my dingy subset of Washington, DC had become a sort of sanctuary for me. I smiled as I approached a familiar bench and plopped down next to the man who was sleeping.
“Hey, Cora girl,” his voice was muffled by his arm. Apparently not sleeping. His matted black hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and by the looks of the dampness, he was hating the heatwave as much as I was.
“Hi, Joe.”
Joe was a regular in Rock Creek. He was old enough to be my father, and with the amount of advice he’d doled out while watching me with those careful bright green eyes, he was probably the closest thing to one I’d ever had. He’d always been so kind to me and provided a listening ear more than once on this very bench.
I knew I wasn’t the only one, too. Joe’s raggedy clothes were usually replaced a few times a year by strangers, or perhaps people he’d touched. The wise wrinkles around his eyes teased at the laughter he’d participated in throughout his life. He was always giving to everyone around him. Despite his own situation. I smiled down at him before unrolling the brown bag in my lap.
