Fireside by Susan Wiggs (autobiographies to read .TXT) 📕

“Fine, thank you.” AJ thought it was nice of her to ask. It usually sucked, being puny, because people often thought he was younger than he actually was. Sometimes, though, it made a certain type of person act nicer to him. As he headed in the direction the woman had indicated, he tried to remind himself that there were kind people in the world, and that things had a way of working out. Yet as he progressed, he felt more and more lost and out of place. He was as homeless as the guys he passed in church doorways, huddled against the cold. And AJ was hungry on top of everything else. Food vendors were everywhere, scenting the air with the aroma of roasting hot dogs, peanuts and pretzels. There was more exotic stuff, too, sold by people with heavy accents and big iron pans of chicken and lamb skewers. AJ resisted temptation, though. He kept his shoulders hunched against the wind and put one foot in front of the other.

He reached Third Avenue but didn’t spot a bus stop right away, so he walked in the direction of the traffic. The street numbers got higher as he went along, so that was something. He hoped the Latino place wasn’t much farther. Finally, when his toes went numb, he asked directions again and hopped on what he thought was the right bus. He paid the fare, found a seat and began counting off the streets as it crawled through the lurching traffic.

The neighborhood changed every few blocks, from grimy shopfronts to fancy apartment buildings to official-looking government and school buildings. Then the bus nosed its way into a neighborhood with shrines of flowers on some of the street corners, familiar-looking tiendas, rows of brick buildings, walls exploding with graffiti and a big covered mercado with colorful displays of pepper wreaths, lacy quinceañera dresses, piñatas hanging from the awnings and bottled imported drinks lined up on open counters.

He stepped off the bus, thinking, now I’m getting somewhere. Yet he didn’t fit in around here, either. Down one block, he spied a school. At least he thought it was a school, although it looked a lot different from his school in Texas. This one was an old brick building, with ball courts surrounded by a chain-link fence, mounds of dirty snow in the corners. He hurried in the opposite direction, sticking to the street with all the shops. Everyone seemed to have somewhere to go or a job to do.

Just as AJ started to feel completely invisible, someone noticed him. “Hey, kid,” a voice said, “whatchoo doing? Skipping school?”

AJ saw a boy who looked just a little older than him, gesturing him over. Although the kid seemed friendly enough, there was something about him that made AJ nervous. He tried not to let it show as he said, “Just looking for an address.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

AJ showed him the address on the printout.

“I know where that is,” the kid said. “Come on. I’ll take you.” He fell in step with AJ. “I’m Denny.”

“AJ.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. Looked around the street. Buses, taxis, delivery vans. They passed a worn-out city park, where the trampled grass was dead and pigeons littered the sidewalks.

“Where you from, AJ?”

“Texas.”

Denny took out a phone and swiftly texted something. He barely had to look at the keypad as his thumbs pressed the buttons. AJ frowned. “What are you doing?”

“Texting my cholos. We can all hang out.”

“Maybe later,” AJ said. “I better check in at this place.”

“Yeah, okay, but I gotta make a stop along the way. It’s not much farther.”

AJ didn’t like Denny. It was something he knew in his gut before he admitted it to himself. Denny looked normal, except maybe he was wearing eye makeup. That was definitely weird. And he smelled of something AJ couldn’t quite identify. Pine-Sol cleaner, maybe.

Before long, the cholos joined them, and that was when AJ knew without a doubt that he’d made a bad decision. They were some tough-looking customers for sure, two boys in baggies and big parkas, and a girl wearing lots of fake-looking jewelry. She had on lots of makeup and a scare-do—hair teased up high.

“You said it was nearby,” he reminded Denny. “That was like twenty minutes ago. I bet you don’t really know where this place is.”

Denny laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “What’s your hurry, eh? They’re all churchy and boring at that place, and they’ll get you in trouble.”

“C’mon inside where it’s warm,” the girl invited, pushing open a heavy door. AJ felt a momentary relief from the cold, but that was quickly eclipsed by an itchy, restless anxiety. They went up the stairs of a building that smelled of frying onions and urinal cakes.

Graffiti covered the walls. On the third floor the girl unlocked a battered door that looked as if it had been kicked in a few times and repaired. A tinny-sounding radio played somewhere. Two teenagers lounged in front of a TV with the sound turned up to compete with the radio.

“I’m gonna go now,” AJ said, lingering by the door.

“Man, don’t be such a chonger. Hang with us for a while. You don’t need the Casa.”

“I’ll check it out and see for myself,” he said.

“Just stick around,” Denny insisted. “It’s better that way.”

“What way?”

“Our way.”

“No, thanks.” AJ made a snap decision. Instead of trying to act all cool for a bunch of strangers, he forgot about pride.

He remembered something Bo had told him—There’s no shame in looking out for yourself. Be who you are.

He acted like the scared kid he was, and ran.

In all his years on this earth, Bo figured he knew what it was like to be afraid. He knew what love and hate were, and what it felt like to be abandoned. He thought he knew fear—the way it tasted and smelled, the way it trickled across your scalp and down your neck.

He was wrong. He’d never, ever in