Under the Viaduct by H. Anderson (english books to improve english TXT) 📕

too. Just not as clean or warm as theirs.” She turned to Kaylee. “Do you want to come back with us and talk to the kids? There are at least two who I’m sure will share their stories with you—they share them with everyone else often enough.” She shook her head.

Kaylee perked up. “Yes. Thank you. I’d love to go talk to them.”

On their way back to the viaduct, Kaylee quizzed Blayne about what kind of music he liked, surprised to find they had similar tastes.

The sun dipped behind the horizon as they pulled up to the viaduct. Kaylee readjusted the scarf around her neck as she stepped out into the bitter cold, wondering how anyone could survive the cold winters of Denver with nowhere to sleep but the streets. The slanted sides of the viaduct only helped slightly to tame the wind. The orange glow from the fire barrel called to her like a Phoenix song. This is their lifeline, she thought, as the three people surrounding it made room for her, Blayne, and Mama C.

She fought back tears, wishing she could bring them all back to her tiny, warm apartment. Her thoughts were interrupted by Mama C.

“You all remember Kaylee.” She looked around at the small group of young people. “She’d like to hear some of your stories, if you’re willing to talk.”

A black boy who looked to be younger than her little brother, cocked his head to the side and asked, “Why do you want to know our stories?”

Kaylee cleared her throat. “I…I’m writing a thesis about Mama C and I’d like to…uh…to add your stories in. To show how she’s helped you and how you got here.”

“That’s cool.” The boy adjusted his beanie. “I’m Demarcus. What do you wanna know?”

With a quick glance at Blayne before looking back at Demarcus, she asked, “How did you become homeless?”

“Well, now, ya’ see. My story’s a little different from these losers.” He slapped a thin blonde girl on the shoulder.

“Demarcus…” Mama C warned.

“Just kidding, just kidding. Don’t kill me in my sleep, Blayne.” He turned back to Kaylee. “I just mean that it wasn’t really things I did to get me here, but who I am that got me here.”

“What do you mean?” Kaylee asked.

“Well, I’m out here ‘cuz I’m gay.” He focused on the flames from which he warmed his hands. His eyes changed in an instant from the sparkling of a teasing teen, to the dullness of someone with a heart full of hurt. “My dad caught me with the star senior of my high school football team. I was a freshman at the time. The dude grabbed his clothes and ran. I don’t really blame him, my dad’s a big guy.”

The crackling of the fire and the distant hum of cars were the only sounds for several seconds. Afraid to hear the rest, but still wanting to know, Kaylee asked, “What happened then? What did your dad do?”

He looked at her, a flash of anger coloring his eyes. “What do you think he did? He was furious. He yelled at me. Called me names. Said, ‘no son of mine is going to be a homo.’ And, ‘your mother would be so disappointed, I’m glad she isn’t here to see this.’”

“Where’s your mom?”

“Dead. My mom’s dead. She died of cancer when I was six.”

“I’m sorry. So, your dad kicked you out?”

Demarcus’s eyes flicked back to the fire. “I knew he was gonna. So I just saved him the trouble of saying the words. I packed up and got the hell out of there.”

In a quiet voice, Kaylee asked, “How old are you?”

“Fifteen.”

“How long have you been out here?”

“Almost a year.”

“How did you find Mama C?”

The tightness in his jaws relaxed, and the anger was replaced with tenderness as he looked at the older woman. “She found me. I’d tried to find a job, but no one will hire you—at least for legal stuff—when you’re under sixteen. I was starving and desperate. I decided to go in search of one of the illegal jobs a fourteen-year-old could do. I was from the suburbs, man. I didn’t know how things worked in the streets. Instead of getting a job, I got myself beat up.” He nodded toward Mama C. “Mama here found me at my worst. All bloodied up, clothes ripped to shreds, near starved to death.”

Kaylee looked down at her hands to hide the horror she was sure showed on her face. This poor boy. She shook her head and asked one more question. “When was this? When did Mama C find you?”

He shrugged. “Maybe five, six months ago. She gave me clothes and food and brought me back to be part of her little family.”

“Tell her about the goals you’ve set, D.” Mama C nodded encouragement.

“Well, Mama wants me to go back to school, but that ain’t as easy as it sounds when you have nowhere to live. My goal is to get a job when I turn sixteen. Mama’s gonna help me get a state I.D. and some decent clothes to interview in. Until then, Mama’s helping me stay up on my studies.”

“You do have some other options, since you’re underage—” Kaylee started.

“Like what?” Demarcus interrupted. “Foster care? No thanks.”

Since foster care was exactly what she’d been thinking, Kaylee decided it was time to move on to someone else. “Okay. Um, does anyone else want to tell me their story?”

“Ha. No way,” the thin, blonde girl whispered. “Why would I want to tell you about my shame? So you and your college buddies can judge me?”

“Hannah,” Mama C chided. “Kaylee isn’t here to judge anyone. And she asked for volunteers, if you don’t want to be one then don’t. No need to be rude.”

Hannah sniffed and wiped her face. She backed away from the fire and sat on a sleeping bag laid out a few feet away. Mama C’s eyes followed her, showing only tenderness.

“I’ll talk to you. I’m an open book.” The