Day Seventy-Six

    ****NAMES CHANGED TO PROTECT PORTLAND'S STREET KIDS*****

I go to #1 for breakfast by myself. After breakfast I attempt to spange to get a new backpack but no one is feeling generous today. It's not that I don't have enough in my bank account to buy a new one. It's just that I don't want to spend that money. Because the money I have now was a gift I don't want to be frivolous with it. My backpack is ripped yes, but it's still useable. The money in my bank account should remain tucked away for when something comes up that can not wait. Purchases that can wait should in theory be made with  money I get from spanging.

I give up on the spange quest when I realize there's no way I'm going to make anything; all the good spots are taken and even those aren't making a dime. The only dollar I get is from another homeless kid who gives it to me saying I look pretty. I think it's sad when the homeless are more generous than the rest of Portland. One girl does stop to talk to me but says she's flat broke too. She's going to Yale. Not sure how broke that makes her.

I go to the mall because it's air conditioned and I can walk around without being bothered. Because the stores are just starting to open the employees in the mall aren't paying attention to anyone at all. I end up stealing two pairs of earrings, a hair clip and a present for my uncle's friends who are getting married. I honestly don't know why I stole the hair clip. I didn't even really want it; I just took it because I knew I could. Sometimes it pisses me off when I see kids my age or younger with nice things. It's not fair that they have parents to pay for everything they want or desire but street kids are left scrambling for basic needs. So, sometimes I just take things to make myself feel pretty or happier or even just to shove it to the corporations.

I finally get a hold of my mother after three or four days of begging her to call me. She asks how I'm doing so I say, "I'm on the streets how do you think I'm doing?"
She tells me to go back to school or to move to Georgia with my uncle. When I point out that I need $1,000ish to get back into school and I have no health insurance in Georgia she says, "Well, I don't know what else to tell you."

It's not the reaction normal parents would have if their child was sleeping outside. There is no concern for my safety or my future. I could get killed today and she'd have the same nonchalant attitude of "oh well". I'm not the least bit surprised or upset by this though. It's what I expect from her. She doesn't have time to worry about anyone but herself, not even her own children. And naturally, if she does something wrong to us she can just ask Jesus to forgive her and everything will be okay. It doesn't matter if I forgive her or not. Just Jesus.

I often wonder what she tells her church and coworkers. Does she even tell them that she has children? Or does she try to pretend we were never born; that we don't exist. What about the friends of hers that know my brother and me? Do they ask if we are okay? What does she say if they do ask? My father, Upchuck, he never told anyone he had children until his girlfriend started asking about us. When he and his girlfriend convinced me to come out to Alabama he had taken photos of me off of my facebook to make it look like he was a concerned, loving father. I thought this was creepy and the fact that he had not gotten a single picture of my brother was really disconcerting. When I asked my coworker they were surprised to hear I had a brother and he hadn't mentioned he had a daughter until two weeks before I came. I will probably never be mentioned again. I wonder if my mother does the same thing.

I end up calling my mother's best friend. She has known me since before I was even conceived and she, unlike my mother, is a complete and total sweet heart. Naturally, my mother had not passed along the knowledge that I was staying in a shelter or on the streets. (I know my mother knew this previous to our conversation because the rest of her family knew and my grandmother talks to her). "You're what?" Joy practically screams into my ear. I explain the whole ordeal about my father kicking me to the curb and my not having insurance in Georgia. She agrees with me, that with my health history I need to be where I have insurance. We talk for awhile and she agrees to send me Jelly Belly candies.

I find it weird that my mother's friends are the ones more willing to care for me while my mother could not give me a second thought.

Most of the day is spent either working on my resume or killing time. I need to get in touch with a couple references then I'm ready to get out and try to get a job (again). Voodoo Doughnuts is hiring as is Forever 21, both are jobs I would kill for. My food resume is done besides those references and I'll make a sales associate version of my resume as soon as I'm finished with the food one. I don't know if Voodoo will recognize me from spanging outside of their shop though.

In shelter I go straight to bed. I talk to my pregnant roomie while I'm laying down for awhile but I'm asleep by ten. I wake up at three in the morning because my head is in excruciating pain. It's a migraine to put all migraines to shame; ten times worse than my concussion. I felt fine when I went to bed so I have no idea why I'm all the sudden overwhelmed with pain. I roll over and slowly try to get my ibprufen and tylenol without waking up Ginger's Girlfriend or upsetting my stomach more. I take the maximum dose of each but the pain does not subside even after I fall back asleep.

--mm