A Hole in the Universe - Mary McGarry Morris [91]
“She’s my neighbor. I know her. She lives across the street from me,” Gordon said.
“I wouldn’t admit that to too many people if I was you, Gloom.”
“Tell the asshole to let me go!” Jada shouted.
“I don’t think she was doing anything wrong, Neil. See.” He showed him the box of broken doughnuts. “She was probably just looking for food.”
“Food? Jesus Christ, what planet are you from? She was out here trashing cars, and then she needed a place to hide.”
“But there aren’t any cars out here now,” Gordon said.
“Yeah, because she trashes them all!” Neil cried. “Come on!” He jerked her arm, pulling her up the steps onto the loading dock. “I’m calling the cops. We’ll let them figure out what to do with trash like this.” He opened the door.
“Okay! Okay, you do that and I’ll tell them you were tryna get me to do something on you and that’s how I got cut—tryna get away from you, you creep, you pervert, you fucking molester, you. Help! Help!” she screamed. “A man’s tryna molest me! Help! Somebody help me, please!”
Leo charged through the doorway, bloodied cleaver in hand.
Neil released her arm, and all at once in a long, feral streak, the girl sprang from the platform, disappearing into the verge of weedy trees behind the Dumpster. Leo stared in horror at Neil.
Jada had been avoiding Gordon. That same night he’d come to her door, rung the bell, knocked hesitantly, then hurried away. She hadn’t seen him since. It was midafternoon, and she was hungry again as she walked home from school. Her stomach ached all the time now. Even when she’d be eating, it would feel empty because she’d start wondering where or when she’d eat again. She wasn’t sure what day today was. Not Friday, she hoped, because the weekend meant no hot lunch, the one thing she looked forward to, her main reason for going to school. Today she had slipped an extra slice of pizza onto her tray to take home to Leonardo, but the bitchy aide made her put it back.
As she came by the drugstore, she looked to see who was working. Please, not the Indian guy with the turban and eyes like periscopes. He could see around corners. He had almost caught her with her hand in the box the other day.
“Yes!” The girl in the cape was behind the register, the one who told everyone she was a witch. She bent over the counter, too busy polishing long black fingernails to even notice the tiny Cambodian woman’s struggle to push her baby stroller in through the theft detectors. Jada held the door for the woman, then hurried to the back aisle where the few food shelves were. She reached behind the cookie display for the box she had opened last time. She stuffed a handful of Oreos into her pocket, then meandered over to the magazine display. She flipped through Cosmopolitan while the woman came down the aisle, balancing a jumbo package of diapers on top of the stroller. When the woman got to the register, Jada went back, filled her other pocket with the rest of the cookies, then shoved the empty box behind the others. “That’s a very pretty baby you got there,” she said on her way outside.
“Sank you!” the woman called after her.
“No, sank you,” Jada said, laughing to herself.
She ate half the cookies before she got home. She wet her fingers, stuck them in her pocket, then licked off the crumbs. The other half were for Leonardo. Last night, Inez had made her a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich, which she’d tried to eat in the bathroom until Leonardo’s whimpering snuffles along the door bottom had made her feel so guilty that she’d given him the crusts. She had told Inez that her mother was going to be late, so could she have something to eat just to tide her over. Jada could tell Inez didn’t believe her, but the lie was easier between them.
Jada wasn’t sure anymore how long her mother had been gone. She had come home in the middle of the night with a scrawny guy with long hair called Tron. When Jada came out with her pillow and blanket so they could have the bed, her mother said no, to stay there, she and Tron were on their way somewhere, but