Day Seventy-Two

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

In the morning Ariel hangs out with us. Her face is picked raw. It's bizzare. Hanging out with these kids in shelter I've seen a lot of drug use but I have never seen anyone pick their face like she does. There is not a piece of skin left unscratched. I'm starting to think that her drug use is just to give an excuse for her face. She says she's an addict but she rarely uses.

I'm not thrilled with her. She's uptight and a lot less easy to hang out with. She likes to know what we're doing but KL and I never know what we're going to do until we're doing it. She makes a comment about how I apparently have a giant bank account with all kinds of money. This pisses me off so I storm away. When I leave them alone KL's wallet goes missing.

In the end I have a spat with Ariel. She and I get into it outside of the day program #1. "Well, just so you know you're a fat ass," she tells me.
I'm happy she's brought up appearances because I can finally shoot back with, "Your face is messed up. I'd much rather have love handles than your face. I can fix fat you can't fix that."

She threatens to punch me but in the end does nothing. I'm kind of disappointed. I wouldn't mind a fight so people would stop fucking with me. I will never throw a first punch but if someone wants to try and hit me I will surely end a fight. People think I'm too small and weak to fight but what they don't realize is I can be full of surprises. Though I haven't gotten into a fight since I was sixteen.

Pot Head comes by so I decide to ask him if he'll smoke a bowl with  me. KL tells me that he doesn't have any; she asked earlier but I say, "He always has pot if he has a crush on you."

He agrees to smoke a bowl with me so we sit at the Unitarian church and light up. He tells me how he ended up homeless when he was going from place to place after aging out of foster care. "It's just temporary though," he says about being homeless, "I just keep telling myself it's temporary."
"I pretend I'm an undercover journalist," I say.
He laughs, "You probably are."
Pot Head really isn't all that bad.

I keep trying to call my mother against my better judgement so I can get phone numbers for the rest of my family. She refuses to answer even though I've been calling at least twenty times a day and leaving messages.  This is irritating to no end.

I go to Savior Man's place to visit Spencer. I sit on his porch and smoke cigaraettes with him. It's hard to talk. Since he now has access to my blog I'm embarrassed. I worry that my friends will be ashamed of me and the choices I'm making. It's hard on both Spencer and myself to see each other so sporadically.

Savior Man makes me some freshly baked scones and offers to cook anything I want when I come over as long as I bring Tupperware and necessary ingredients. He promises to never make lasagna. I'm so thankful for him. I kiss Spencer goodbye and head out to go back to downtown and into shelter.

--mm