Never Be Alone Page 10

  She looked to the front of the church and watched the priest talking about the relevance of Christmas Eve. “On this night, so long ago, God and man were united. It gave us hope. God fills us with wonder and promise. He has shown us that love will win over hatred and life over death.”

  The words penetrated Joon’s thoughts, and she contemplated the meaning: Hope. Wonder and promise. Love over hatred, life over death. Maybe if I believe, God will let me be happy too.

  Joon bowed her head like she’d seen the others do and prayed. God, you don’t know me. But can you please help me find Ragtop? I don’t know what I’ll do if I can’t find her. I don’t have anybody. She’s the only mom I’ve had since my real mom died. She’s all I have in this world.

  The people in the pews in front of her were nodding as the priest spoke. She wondered why she hadn’t learned about God in school. Then the priest talked more about the birth of Jesus and Joon felt a connection. That lady Mary and her kid had to sleep outside just like me. They slept with the animals to keep them warm, just like I slept with the dog in Aron’s basement. Maybe I already am normal. If the church guy up there says it’s okay and everyone is agreeing with him, maybe people won’t think that I don’t matter because I’m homeless.

  When the mass was over, Joon sat in the pew as the families filtered out of the church. Waiting until the last moment, she finally stood and walked out with the remaining people. Outside on the steps, there were kids about her age wishing people a Merry Christmas. Some of the older kids stood on the sidewalk and smoked cigarettes while others leaned against the stone railing, joking with one another. Joon forgot about the cold as she stood off to the side and observed them.

  A voice came from behind her. “Hi.”

  Joon looked over her shoulder at a teen girl. “Hi.”

  “Merry Christmas. I’m Giselle.”

  “I’m Joon,” she responded nervously.

  “You homeless?”

  Joon would have been surprised, but she supposed, showered or not, she probably looked homeless at this point. She nodded. “I have to go.”

  “Why? You can stay here tonight. Father John let’s all of us sleep inside on Christmas Eve. He lets us stay here when it snows too,” Giselle explained.

  Joon looked at the girl in the dim light spilling from inside the church. “Are you homeless too?”

  “Yep. We all are,” she said, pointing to the kids Joon had just been observing on the other side of the elaborate cement staircase.

  Joon backed away with hands raised and looked around to locate the quickest way to get away from the church. “Why do you care what I do?”

  Giselle tilted her head and looked at her intently. “Look, I was just offering you a way out of the cold tonight. If you don’t wanna stay, then leave.”

  Joon tapped her fingers on her thighs, weighing her options. “What do I have to do to stay here? I don’t have any money.”

  “You don’t need money. It ain’t like that here. This is a church.”

  Joon’s brows drew closer together and her face tightened. She thought about her options. She didn’t know Giselle or anyone else at the church, but staying on the street in the cold seemed like a dumb choice too. “Okay. As long as I don’t have to pay.”

  “Well, come on. I’ll introduce you to Father John.” Giselle started walking toward the entrance and, turning back, saw that Joon wasn’t following. “Are you coming or not? The other option is to walk around all night and from the looks of your chapped cheeks, you wouldn’t make it until morning.”

  What if someone hurts me here? But what if I die in the bitter cold on the streets? She looked at Giselle through squinted eyes. “I don’t know you.”

  “Well, you can get to know me. I ain’t an ax murderer if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  Joon crossed and uncrossed her arms, fighting her desire to flee. Finally, she decided the better of the two potentially bad situations was to stay at the church. “Okay, but I can leave if I want to, right? I don’t have to wait until morning?”

  “Sure. You can leave anytime you want. It’s a church not a prison.”

  Joon followed Giselle back inside and down the center aisle, where the group she’d seen outside was laying out blankets and sleeping bags. Giselle spotted Father John at the closet, handing out blankets, and called out to him. “Father John, this is Joon,” she said as they approached.

  Father John looked into Joon’s eyes. “How are you, Joon?”

  Joon shrugged.

  “It’s okay. You’re safe here with the other kids. No one will bother you. Here, take a blanket,” he said, handing the item to Joon.

  He hesitated before he asked, “When is the last time you ate something?”

  “I had pretzels with some peanut butter earlier. I don’t really have any food left…I mean, I have some licorice, but only a couple of pieces.”

  “Well, how about if Giselle takes you into the kitchen?” He turned to Giselle. “I think there are some sandwiches left that the Women’s Auxiliary made for all of you.”

  Giselle smiled. “Thanks, Father John. Come on, Joon.”

  When the girls got back into the kitchen, Giselle led Joon over to the refrigerator and pulled out a tray. “There’s tuna salad, turkey, or roast beef. Personally, I love the tuna.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Joon said, gleefully anticipating how good it would be to have her belly full.

  Giselle placed a whole sandwich on a paper plate and laid it on the table. Joon stood near the counter, watching.

  “Can I use the bathroom first?” Joon asked.

  “Sure, down the hall on the left.”

  Inside the bathroom, Joon turned on the hot water and washed her hands. She looked in the mirror at her red cheeks—they were peeling. Her hair was tangled from the wind. “You have to find Ragtop,” she said to herself.

  When she got back to the kitchen, Giselle and Father John were sitting at the table talking.

  Father John stood. “Joon, sit and eat, please.”

  Joon slid onto the chair next to Giselle.

  “How old are you?” Father John asked.

  Joon tensed and looked at Giselle. “How old are you?”

  Giselle smiled. “Fourteen.”

  Joon looked back at Father John. “I’m fourteen too,” she lied.

  “I see,” he said, relaxing his posture a bit. “I must say you’re a very youthful-looking fourteen-year-old.”

  Joon took a bite of the sandwich, barely chewed, and swallowed. “I was a preemie. I’m small for my age.”

  “Oh?” Father John said, nodding. “You see, Joon, it doesn’t matter how old or even how young you are. There aren’t enough shelters in the city to accommodate all of our homeless youth, but you won’t find any trouble here. You’re always welcome to come here during the day if you find yourself in need of God’s love.”

  Joon took another bite of her sandwich. “I don’t know God and he doesn’t know me either. Even if we did know each other, I doubt that he’d love me.”

  Father John’s green eyes shifted, sadness shadowing his face. “God knows all of us, Joon. We’re all his children. God takes care of us and helps guide us so we can achieve all that He’s planned for us.”

  Shocked, Joon placed her half-eaten sandwich on the plate. “God doesn’t know me. Maybe no one told him I was born. I don’t know. But he took my mom and dad away from me, made me live with Aron, and then took Ragtop from me, so if that was His plan, then I don’t want to know Him.”

  Father John reached out to touch Joon’s hand, but she instinctively pulled away. He pulled his hand back and sat up straight. “I hope someday to convince you that God does know you. He loves you and has a plan for each of us.”

  Joon went back to eating her sandwich, and Father John stood to leave the kitchen. At the door, he turned back to the girls. “When you girls are done, make sure you clean up and turn off the lights. It’s time for everyone to sleep.”

  When
he was gone, Joon looked at Giselle. “I hope I didn’t piss off Father John. But I don’t wanna hear about God who takes care of lots of rotten people and lets good people be hungry and cold and have no one.”

  Craving sleep, Giselle shifted in her seat and tried to keep her heavy eyes open. “The only thing that upsets Father John is when us kids who live on the streets are suffering. You ain’t gotta worry about him. He’s a good guy. Maybe if you stick around long enough, you’ll get to know him.”

  That night, as Joon lay on the church floor, she couldn’t sleep. Not knowing where she would go in the morning burned at her insides. She cried silently, missing Ragtop and knowing that, once again, there was no one in the world who cared about her.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  On Christmas morning, Joon sat up slowly and looked around. The other kids were already folding their blankets and carrying them over to the closet. Joon followed the others into the kitchen, where muffins and pastries were set out on large trays, and got in line for her breakfast. After eating, she grabbed her bags and headed toward the door.

  “Hey, Joon. Where are you going?” Giselle yelled from behind her.

  Joon turned around and walked toward her, closing the gap between them. “I’m going to find Ragtop.”

  “Oh. What’s a ragtop?”

  Joon looked down at her feet. “She’s a person; she’s like my mom. You know, she takes care of me.”

  The girl nodded and looked at her seriously. “What if you can’t find her? Where will you go?”

  Joon shrugged. “Don’t know yet.”

  “It can get real scary on the streets by yourself,” Giselle warned.

  “Scary how?”

  Giselle stepped closer to Joon. “Just watch your back. Be careful and stay away from the older kids. They can be trouble. And stay clear of the rowdy packs. They’ll get you in deep shit.” Giselle turned to walk back into the church. “Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”

  “Sure, I guess,” Joon said, noncommittal.

  As Joon left the shelter of the church and walked out under the overcast sky of the cold Christmas morning, she felt an uneasiness she hadn’t felt since she ran away from Aron’s house—the anxiety that comes with loneliness.

  She walked until she was back at the motel, where she took a deep breath before entering the lobby again.

  The motel manager looked up from the television show he was watching. “What the hell’s your problem, kid? I told ya yesterday to get outta here!”

  Joon stopped right inside the entrance, slid down onto the floor, and wept. “She didn’t come back for me?”

  The manager came around from behind the counter, bent down, lifted Joon by her arm, opened the door, and pushed her back onto the sidewalk, where she collapsed in a heap. As she sat on the cold pavement, a light freezing rain began to fall.

  Not knowing what to do next, she stumbled to her feet and walked the city streets, searching the back alleys for cover. Ice clung to her everywhere. Finally, she spotted a cardboard box that had held a refrigerator—probably just this morning, she thought.

  Joon lugged the large box into the narrow alley behind a row of houses, climbed inside it, and curled into the corner farthest from the opening. She lay shivering as she listened to the freezing rain tap on the outside of box. Inside, the cardboard kept her safe from the wind, but the frosty temperatures provided no relief from the freezing rain that had frozen her hair and clothing. She looked in her bags and, pulling out one of Ragtop’s T-shirts, noticed her bright-red hands. They were blotchy, and Joon quickly wrapped the T-shirt around them. After a couple of hours, the temperature rose just enough so rain splashed against the cardboard instead of ice. A cold dampness now took up residence in her bones. It was already dusk when Joon crawled to the opening of the box and peeked outside. The streets were dark and wet as she wandered around looking for something to eat. Houses were lit inside with holiday celebrations, and she paused to stare into windows from the street, wishing she could be part of a real family and feeling sorry for herself.

  Close to seven o’clock that evening, Joon got onto a bus with the money she’d gotten from the women in the high-end store the day prior. As she boarded, the bus driver watched her closely.

  “Kind of young to be out on your own this time of night on Christmas,” he remarked.

  Joon gave him a lame smile. “Um, I have to get to my aunt’s house.”

  “Oh yeah?” the driver said. “Well, why don’t you have a seat behind me?” He bent over and lifted a lid from a plastic box next to his bucket seat and pulled out a blanket. “Here. You look like you can use a little warming up.”

  She took the blanket. “Thanks.” She wrapped herself in the blanket and settled into the seat behind him.

  “You eat today?” the driver said, looking in his rearview mirror at her.

  “Early this morning,” she said.

  “My cooler is behind me. Go on and open it. I have a couple of sandwiches in there. You can take one.”

  Joon rushed to the cooler and pulled a sandwich out. She ripped the waxed paper open, her mouth was watering.

  “You eat and rest. My shift isn’t over until two in the morning. It’ll give you some time to sleep.”

  “Thanks, mister.” When she finished the sandwich, Joon settled on the seat with the blanket up to her chin. She suddenly sat up and stood beside the driver. “How do you know that I don’t really have anywhere to go?”

  The driver cleared his throat. “I see kids like you all the time. You’re younger than most.” He sighed. “I know the look on your face when you got nowhere to go. When I was a teenager, I lived on the streets for a couple of months until I decided I’d rather go home and put up with my parents’ rules. Your eyes are tired and glazed over. That’s a sure sign that you have the weight of the world on your shoulders. Maybe you can go home too. Like I did. All I had to do was put up with a couple of stupid rules.”

  “I don’t have a home,” Joon said. She slumped in the seat and tears streamed down her raw cheeks. “My mom and dad died. I’ve been on my own since I was little.”

  “Oh, I see.” He sounded genuinely sorry for her as he said, “I’m sorry to hear that, kid. Like I said, you’re welcome to ride until my shift is up.”

  Joon hunkered back down in the seat. Her clothes and hair were wet from the melted ice. It was an uncomfortable feeling, and it made her skin itchy. Blocking it out, she wrapped herself tighter in the blanket and fell into a deep sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Hours later, Joon was awakened by the bus driver.

  “Hey, kid,” the driver said in a soft voice. “Kid, you gotta wake up.”

  Joon opened her eyes and sat up quickly. She looked around her. She was still on the bus. “What’s wrong?”

  The bus driver shoved his hands into his pockets. “My shift is over. You have to get off the bus.”

  Joon looked out the bus window trying to orient herself. “Where are we?”

  “We’re in Old City. This is a pretty safe area.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  Joon gathered her things and walked toward the door. She unwrapped herself from the blanket and handed it back to the driver. “Here, mister. Thanks for letting me use it.”

  “You keep it, kid. It’s really cold out tonight. I hope you find some shelter,” he said. The driver looked away, his guilt over leaving a child in the middle of a cold, dark night churning his stomach. “I wish I could help you out. I really do. I got a wife and kids at home, and they’d never understand. I’m sorry.”

  “You did help me. You let me ride the bus for a long time. Thanks.” Joon walked off of the bus and into the night.

  She had walked a short distance when she came upon a brick wall with a locked gated entrance. She looked around for any sign of other people, threw her bags over the wall, and quickly shimmied up the brick surface by grabbing the ledge. She jumped down on the other side and looked around her at the tombstones i
nside of Christ Church Burial Ground.

  She scanned the cemetery, which was dimly lit by the old-fashioned-looking lanterns mounted to the top of the wall.

  She walked over to the gravesite she’d visited many times prior and sat down next to the grave, covering herself with her new blanket. She’d had plenty of sleep on the bus; it was now a matter of not freezing to death by morning.

  She ran her fingers over Benjamin Franklin’s name engraved in the stone. A few months prior, when Joon read that Ben Franklin had run away from his home in Boston in 1723 to come to Philadelphia, she had felt inspired.

  Joon had told Ragtop, “Just think! Ben Franklin ran away from home and became a successful newspaper editor and printer right here in Philadelphia. He got rich after he published Poor Richard’s Almanack. I read some of them in the library. They had really good puzzles too. And did you know that he stopped going to school when he was ten and educated himself by reading? I’m almost thirteen. That means I went to school two more years than him. Can you believe it? This means I can do anything too. Right, Ragtop?”

  “Sure, baby,” Ragtop had said. The woman pulled Joon onto her lap. “You’re the smartest kid I know. There ain’t nothing you can’t do if you set your mind to it. You just keep learning everything you can, so that someday, you’ll get to make choices about the life you wanna live.”

  Because of Joon’s interest in and connection to the late Ben Franklin, Ginger, her homeless teacher, had taken her to visit Franklin’s grave. She thought about all that Ben had accomplished and was certain if she stayed focused, she too, could turn her life around. Slowly, Joon’s self-pity, fear and loneliness faded and was replaced with hope. She imagined herself lighting a candle and thought of all the good things that had happened to her. She had found a refrigerator box to get shelter from the freezing rain, got a new blanket, spent hours sleeping on a warm bus, and ate a muffin and a sandwich that day.