Forgotten: Seventeen and Homeless Read online

  "Here you go." I hand my application to the woman at the reception desk.

  "That didn't take long." She glances down at the application, then nods. "But it looks like you filled in all the blanks."

  "I did my best."

  She studies me with interest now. "You know, the manager is on the premises this morning. I'll bet she could see you now if you like."

  "For an interview?"

  "Why not? Do you want me to buzz her and see if she's interested?"

  I agree, and less than five minutes later, I am sitting in front of Ms. Michaels. I'm guessing she's about my mom's age, but she dresses more conservatively and has an air of authority about her. "You seem young to have had quite a bit of work experience." She peers over her reading glasses at me with a curious expression.

  I decide to keep everything about this interview as honest as possible. "My parents divorced when I was twelve. My mom has had some health challenges, so I've tried to help out by working when I can. Summer jobs ... part time after school ... however I can earn some extra money. The jobs just kind of added up."

  She sets down the application. "I can see that."

  "And we just moved here in August for my mom's job, but now it looks like she's unable to work. So it's important I find work ... as soon as possible."

  Ms. Michaels nods. "I'm sorry to hear about your mother's poor health. Hopefully she'll get some kind of assistance."

  "Yes, that would be good." I'm curious as to what kind of assistance Ms. Michaels is referring to, but I want to stick to the interview. "So, anyway, in the meantime I need to do what I can to help out. And since I live within walking distance, this seemed like a good place to start."

  "I noticed you live nearby. And you say you can work evenings and weekends?"

  "That's right."

  "And I assume these are the correct names and phone numbers for your references?" She studies me closely, as if she thinks I just made them up.

  "As far as I know, they're correct." I nod firmly. "I always keep references handy in case I need to find a new job. And I'm pretty sure their recommendations will all be positive."

  "You seem like an intelligent girl. And I'm guessing you're a hard worker too. But how are you with elderly people? Do they make you uncomfortable?"

  "I've never really known any elderly people, but I don't think I'm uncomfortable with them. I just had a pleasant conversation with Mrs. Ashburn. She seems like a sweet lady."

  "She is a dear."

  "And she was getting her exercise so she can go home again."

  Ms. Michaels frowns. "Yes ... well, that's not likely. Her daughter hasn't told her yet, but Mrs. Ashburn is a permanent resident."

  "Oh . . ." I'm surprised at how disappointed I feel about this. Mrs. Ashburn seemed so hopeful about going home.

  Ms. Michaels seems to be observing me very closely, almost as if she's trying to sense my character. "I see you've done some restaurant work, Adele, so I assume you're good at waiting on people, cleaning up messes, getting your hands dirty. Because I'll be up front with you-this isn't a job for princesses. Most girls your age wouldn't be that comfortable helping with the needs of the elderly."

  "I'll admit it's not exactly my dream job." And then I confess to her that my next application was going to be for the twentyfour-hour restaurant on Main Street.

  "Well . . ." She presses her lips together. "If you're willing, I'm willing. I'd like to try you out here."

  "Really?"

  She nods and sets my application in the basket on the corner of her desk. "How soon can you start?"

  "Anytime you want, I guess." But suddenly I feel a little concerned. What if I'm making a mistake? What if the restaurant job would be a better fit for me? And what about tips? And food?

  "How about if you start today?"

  I blink. "Today?"

  "Is that a problem?"

  "I, uh, I just have one question."

  "Yes?"

  "Well, I don't want it to sound wrong, but one of the reasons I was leaning toward a restaurant job was so I could have some of my meals there." Okay, I'm embarrassed to have just said this.

  But she just smiles. "You're welcome to have meals here too, Adele. In fact, some of the seniors would probably get a kick out of it."

  "Really?"

  "Sure. As long as you work hard and don't spend all your time eating, but I doubt that'll be a problem." She sticks out her hand. "So unless there's a problem with any of these references or your background check with the police, you've got a job." She pauses to look at me. "There won't be, will there?"

  I shake her hand. "No, of course not. I've never had any problem with the police."

  "I didn't think so."

  Okay, my cheeks warm as I recall how close I came to calling the police on my own mother last night. Still, that didn't have as much to do with me as with my mom and her new friend. Not that I plan to mention this.

  Now Ms. Michaels asks for my food handlers card, which I give to her. Then she's on the phone talking to someone named Mary. She hangs up and gives me directions to the kitchen. "Mary is our head chef, and she's been needing help in the kitchen. Let's get you started in there and we'll see how that goes.

  So, just like that, I am employed. And I will do everything to make sure I stay employed for as long as necessary. I just wish my mom could do the same.

  n my very first day of working at River Woods, I put in a whole eight hours. And while I feel really tired as I walk home, I must admit that it really isn't the hardest job I've ever had. The Hot Diggity Dog House was much worse. Even babysitting was harder. The worst part of my day was working with Mary (or Scary Mary as I heard an orderly named Sam call her behind her back). Mary runs her kitchen like she thinks she's an army sergeant. She's probably in her late forties, wears her gray hair in a butch, and is built like a tank. And she had no problem ordering me around and complaining about anything that wasn't done to her specifications.

  But at least she seems to know what she's doing. And I was surprised that the food wasn't half bad. Or else I was just too hungry to care. But the potatoes she served were real, not powdered, because I scrubbed them myself. Thankfully, she didn't make me peel them. They were new potatoes with thin skins, and she just cooked them and mashed them with their skins on. She said it was healthier that way. And the roast beef was fall-apart tender and the gravy was actually pretty good too, although I had to pass on the canned peas.

  Dinner at River Woods is always served at five o'clock sharp. That's because the old people go to bed early. The residents are encouraged to eat in the dining room, but some of the ones in really poor health or with special dietary needs are allowed to eat in their rooms. I delivered about a dozen trays and then helped several of the residents eat. That was a challenge, but being cheerful and chatting with them helped a bit. All except for one old woman named Bess managed to eat most of their food. And a nurse named Ellen seemed impressed. That made me feel good. At least it was better than being growled at by Scary Mary.

  So as I walk home in the twilight, since it's after seven now, I feel rather pleased with myself. I found a job within walking distance where I get food. And according to my calculations, I made nearly seventy dollars, less withholdings, today. Fortunately my taxes should be minimal, and if my mom doesn't get her act together, I might consider claiming her as my dependent. I don't even feel mad at my mom now. Oh, I'm irritated about her creepy friend, but hopefully my little fit got to him and maybe he's long gone by now.

  My plan is to apologize to my mom when I get home. Then I'll do my best to talk her into applying at River Woods too. When Ms. Michaels was giving me my work schedule, I inquired if it would be a problem to have two members of the same family working there, and she assured me that if my mom was willing and able, she would be considered for a job.

  Oh, I know that even with both of us working, we won't make nearly as much as she did at her new job. But I figure if she can work full time and if we eat mos
t of our meals at work and really pinch our pennies, we might be able to get by for a while. Besides that, she could let her new car go. I warned her to wait on getting it when we moved here, but she was certain that her old Buick would ruin her image at her new job. Still, without those car payments, plus the saved money on insurance and gas, who knows, we might actually make it.

  I'm about a block from home when I check my cell phone, which I've kept off all day (River Woods rules), and am pleased to see that Jayden left me a message. It doesn't say much, except that he was thinking of me and hoped I was having a good day. I actually laugh to consider how shocked he'd be to hear what I'd actually been doing today. Not that I have any intention of telling him, or any of my other friends, about my part-time job. I can only imagine what a hard time Bristol would give me if she knew I spent most of my Sunday with a bunch of old people.

  As I cut through the Westwood Heights parking lot, I notice that my mom's little red car is missing from its reserved spot. Disappointed that my mom's not around to hear my recovery plan, I unlock the front door and decide not to let it get to me. Instead, I'll just take a nice long shower and hopefully she'll get home in time for us to talk.

  But as I go inside, I get a strange feeling. The lights are turned off, which isn't so unusual. But something just feels different, though I'm not sure what exactly. I turn on the kitchen lights and notice a piece of notebook paper on the island with a strange set of keys on top. I move what appear to be car keys and read the note.

  Adele,

  Ben and I decided that we all need a break. So he and I are taking a vacation from this place and from you. I'm sorry you think I'm such a disappointment as a mother. Maybe you'll be happier with me gone for a while. These are the keys to Ben's van - the black Dodge parked in the visitor section. He'd appreciate it if you moved his vehicle every other day or so. That way he won't get ticketed by the management.

  Take care.

  Mom

  I read and reread my mom's somewhat cryptic note, trying to make sense of it. Where on earth are they going? How long will they be gone? And how can my mom possibly afford this so-called vacation? Or is this Ben guy footing the bill? And if so, where does he get his money since he obviously isn't employed? And really, what does she even know about him? What if he's some kind of sociopath serial killer? And where does he get off expecting me to move his van for him? Think again, Ben! I don't care if the creep comes home to a truckload of parking tickets.

  Still, it's unsettling rambling around our condo knowing my mom's gone AWOL. I check out her room to see that: (1) it's a mess - so much for those nice, clean sheets-and (2) she has packed up most of her stuff like she really plans to be gone awhile. And I feel a cross between anger and hurt. But there's another part of me that's not terribly surprised. Kind of like I'd been waiting for something like this to happen. And yet as I get into bed, earlier than usual even for a school night, I feel slightly numb.

  The next morning, it's not like I'm doing anything different than usual as I get ready for school. But for some reason it just feels different. Maybe it's the being alone part ... being really alone. That's different. But I tell myself it doesn't matter as I go through my usual paces of showering and getting dressed.

  Although I know there's nothing to eat in the kitchen except a couple more cans of soup, I look in the fridge, as if I expect that yogurt or waffles or orange juice is going to magically appear. Then I finally settle on minestrone soup, which just shows I am hungry because I really don't like minestrone. But it's all that's left. And with a dollar and change in my purse, I wait for Isabella to pick me up. But while I wait, I wonder how long I can keep this up.

  It's amazing and slightly weird that none of my friends has any idea of what's going on with me. It's like they just assume that everything in my life is the same old, same old ... status quo. And really, it's what I want them to think. But at the same time it's a bit bizarre-like I'm leading a secret life. Of course, their oblivion is probably because everyone, including me, is so self-centered and wrapped up in their own lives.

  To be fair, I don't really know what's going on with all of them when they're at home with their families. Oh, I assume that their lives are perfectly lovely, that they have delightful parents who really care about them, that there's food in their fridges, and that none of them cried themselves to sleep last night. But I could be wrong.

  "How's your mom?" Jayden asks me as we walk to resource together after lunch. "Is she still pretty sick?"

  I should be pleased that he cares enough to ask, but just thinking about my mom makes my head hurt. "Oh, she's about the same."

  "Well, I told my grandma about your mom getting the flu, and it reminded her that she needs to get her flu shot."

  "Does your grandmother live nearby?"

  He chuckles. "Yeah, pretty nearby."

  "Oh?"

  "Didn't I tell you my grandma lives with us?"

  "I don't think so ... not that I recall."

  "Yeah. She's got her own apartment in our basement. It's actually a pretty cool setup with a full kitchen and everything. And if I get tired of my mom's cooking, Nana is always ready to whip something up for me."

  "Wow, that is a cool setup." I give him a cheesy smile. "I'm envious.

  "Well, you'll have to come over and meet her sometime. She doesn't get many visitors."

  Now I almost let the cat out of the bag by mentioning Mrs. Ashburn at the nursing home to him. I was about to say how she told me she doesn't get many visitors either, but then I'd have to explain why I was at River Woods. While I suppose I could lie and say I went there to visit, I think the safest plan is to keep the entire thing under wraps. Maybe someday, when I know I can trust Jayden with my secret and when I know he won't dump me for being poor ... maybe then I can tell him.

  After school, Jayden takes me aside. "I need to ask you something before I go to soccer practice."

  "What?" Now, for no explainable reason I'm worried. Does he know something about me? Something I don't want him to know?

  "I wanted to ask you to go to the homecoming dance with me," he says in an almost shy way.

  I nod eagerly. "Sure, I'd love to."

  His serious face breaks into a big smile. "Cool."

  "That's about two weeks away, right?"

  "Yep. The second Friday in October. And if you don't mind, Ethan and Isabella want to go with us."

  "That's awesome. Sounds like fun."

  He leans down and gives me a quick kiss. "Great. Now I have to get to practice. See ya!"

  As he jogs toward the gym, I try to imagine what it'll be like to go to a real dance with my real boyfriend. It feels too good to be true. And naturally, that has me a little worried. But at the same time, I'm too excited to start imagining the worst. Really, don't I deserve to savor this moment? This must be how Cinderella felt when she found out she was going to the ball.

  ,in still savoring my invitation to the dance when Isabella seems to appear from out of thin air and Bristol is not too far behind her. "Did he ask you yet?" Isabella asks. "Are you going to homecoming?"

  "Yes!" I exclaim. "And he said we're going with you and Ethan."

  Isabella lets out a joyful squeal and hugs me. "I can't wait!"

  "Looks like someone took her happy pill today," Bristol says in a snarky tone.

  "Looks like someone else forgot hers," Isabella shoots back.

  Lily comes over to join us. "What's up?"

  Isabella quickly relays our "good" news, but Lily (like Bristol) just frowns.

  "Can't you at least be happy for us?" Isabella asks.

  "Oh yeah, I'm ecstatic." Lily rolls her eyes.

  "No one's stopping you from going to the dance," Isabella tells her.

  "Right. Except no one asked me." Lily makes a face.

  "Why don't you go with Caleb?" I suggest.

  Lily's mouth twists to one side like she's actually considering this.

  "That's a great idea." Isabella nods.
/>   "Except that someone should include Caleb in on it," Lily says glumly.

  "Or you could ask him yourself," Bristol teases. "Nothing quite as attractive as a girl who's desperately begging for a date."

  Lily nods. "Yeah, it's a bit pathetic."

  "I know," I tell her. "I have Caleb in history. What if I did some gentle hinting?"

  "Would you do that for me?" Lily looks hopeful.

  "Sure, why not?"

  "And if Caleb agrees, we can all go together," Isabella declares.

  "And we can hire a stretch Hummer to take us," Lily says with enthusiasm.

  "And we'll go to La Bonne for dinner," Isabella adds.

  Now Bristol looks seriously aggravated. "It sounds like you'll all have a delightful time." Then she turns to walk away.

  "Wait," Lily calls after her. "I thought you were riding with me.

  "Oh, if it's not too much trouble," Bristol shoots back. "I'd hate to inconvenience you while you're making all your big plans."

  Lily holds up her hand in a phone shape, mouthing "call me" to Isabella, then takes off to catch up with Bristol.

  "Poor Bristol." Isabella shakes her head.

  "I'm surprised she doesn't find herself a boyfriend," I say as I wait for Isabella to get something from her locker. "I'm sure there are lots of guys who would be glad to go out with her."

  Isabella slams her locker shut, then laughs. "Yeah, lots of guys ... just not the one guy she wants."

  "You mean Jayden?"

  "Duh." Isabella jingles her car keys. "Hey, we could do some dress shopping on our way home if you want."

  "I can't," I say quickly. "My mom's got the flu, and I need to get home to make sure she's okay."

  "Well, maybe I'll drop you off and do a little scouting mission myself."

  "A scouting mission?"

  "For a dress. That way I can pick out the one that's perfect for me, and you and Lily will have to come up with dresses that look good with mine."

  "We have to wear matching dresses?" I frown at her. "Like we're bridesmaids?"

  "Complementary colors and styles." She looks at me like this should be obvious.