Extra Spicy

“I didn’t steal anything!” I grit my teeth and will my hands to stop shaking.

“Then where did you get all of these twenties, huh? A homeless teen like you can’t get money like this unless they stole it,” the officer scoffs and I wish I could wipe that smug grin off his stupid face.

“Give me my money back! You don’t even have any evidence that I stole that! I need that money! Please, just give it back to me.”

Tears threatened to roll down my face but I wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction. Even if he was right.

He spits on the ground beside my foot.

"What are you gonna use it on? Drugs?" He starts laughing and snorting like a madman, shaking while he dangles the money in front of me.

"If you can reach it, then you can have it," He holds the money just out of my reach. He knew I would never be able to reach it, being 5'3, while he was probably about like 6'3.

Still, I jump and jump while he wags it happily.

"Hmph. Fine, here," I watch him pull two twenties out of the couple I had stolen and drop them right at my feet. “You can take this.”

Bile rises in my throat as I realize that I wasn’t going to get that tent I had seen after all.

“What are you doing?” my voice was shaky and small even as I tried to sound tough. I knew there was no point in trying to argue because he was a cop, a corrupt one, but a cop nonetheless. And I was a girl, in ragged, ripped clothes with no belongings except for a happy family photo in my right pocket.

“Listen now girl, I have video footage of you taking that money from that guy,” He waits until his words soak in before continuing, “So either I can arrest you right now for theft, or you can keep the two twenties, let me keep the rest, and both of us can go our own ways.”

He knows, he knows what I’ll pick, and it makes me so, so mad. I feel helpless, almost as helpless as I felt when Mom's boyfriend used to threaten me, as I curl my toes inside my too-small worn-out shoes. At least he can't get to me know. But at what cost, I ask myself. As I bend down to pick up the twenties, he steps on my fingers.

"Ow!"

"My bad kiddo," I don't have to look up at his face to know that he's grinning that awful grin again. He kicks me with his foot laughs before turning and leaving, getting into his car, and probably going home. He probably has food in his fridge and a roof over his head and people who are waiting for him to start dinner. As the lights of the car finally disappear, I give in to the tears. I sob like I haven’t in 2 years since I ran away. I curl into a ball right there on the sidewalk, thinking about how unfair my life has been. The hope of getting that tent had kept me going. I had thought that I would finally get to sleep and not get drenched in the Oregon rain.

How wrong I had been. Not just about waking up dry for once, but for everything. For thinking, Mom would quit drugs. For thinking her new boyfriend might like Dax and me. For thinking that I 

would get to see Dax happy if I left. All my hope was gone. I had always had hope in me, a better future for my younger brother and I, but I know I finally understood that it was never going to happen. My step-dad had made it clear that coming back was not an option. My chin quivered as I thought about how he must be treating Dax.

“Are you okay?” I sneak a peek at the sweet, shy voice and see a boy, maybe as old as Dax, 7 or 8 years old.

“What are you doing out there, alone?” I would never let Dax be out at this time in the night.

“This is my home,” He splayed his hands out, closing his eyes as if feeling the wind.

He opened one eye, and I laughed at how ridiculous he looked.

“What? It’s true. I know everything about this town, I’ve lived out here on the streets my whole life.” He smiled, proud.

At that moment, my heart broke into a million pieces. I missed Dax so much it felt like I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t imagine him living here his whole life and not being broken like I was. How many times did this boy have to go to sleep hungry? How many winters did he spend here, freezing in the cold, all alone with nobody here with him?

“What’s your name?” I ask him, looking at the faded blue baseball hat on his head.

“Kade," he looks at me expectantly, "I named myself. Do you not like it?”

“No, no, I love it. I mean, it’s a great name, but…” I trail off.

“What about your family? Where are they?” I knew I had asked the wrong questions as soon as they left my lips. I saw the way his shoulders started drooping, his grin morphing into a tight-lipped smile, his clenched jaw, and his defeated demeanor.

“You know, never mind. Here, look, I have some money, we could go get some soup,” I offered to him, hoping he said yes. Right now I needed somebody, anybody to talk to. Even if it was a little kid who had named himself Kade.

He takes a step closer and says to me, “Come down a little lower please.”

I crouch down to his level and let out a gasp as he wipes away the tears on my cheeks with his small, thin fingers.

“What kind of fool says no to free soup?” He smiles at me and takes my hand.

“And also,” he says, turning his head my way while we start walking, “I like my soup extra spicy.” 

Maybe hope wasn’t gone, only lost. I just had to find it again, and make it mine.