Todd Strasser: No Place

“If he’s that sick, shouldn’t he be in a hospital?”

Meg stared down at the table. “There’s nothing they can do. He’s just supposed to stay home and take his medicines.”

Home was Dignityville. Now I felt even worse. “Sorry, I don’t know why I brought that up.”

She glanced my way. Her eyes were hazel and pretty. “You moved in with relatives?”

“Yeah, uh, it’s just temporary.” That had become my standard line. Maybe if I repeated it enough, it would come true.

“We lived with friends for a while, but it didn’t work. It’s not easy.”

“Yeah, I’m kind of seeing that. Everyone’s stepping on each other’s toes.”

We’d stumbled into another silent patch. Meg straightened her books and glanced around. Was she thinking that she should go? I didn’t want her to. It wasn’t like I’d ever feel comfortable talking about this stuff with Talia, and even with Noah it would be awkward. “So, uh, you ever think about a part-time job?”

“I bagged groceries for a while. Me and a bunch of old people… I mean, really old… like in their seventies and eighties, who were doing it because they didn’t get enough social security. It was so depressing. I mean, the ones who couldn’t even stand up for that long? And there was this one old lady…” She trailed off, her gaze slanting away as if she was recalling something troubling.

“Yeah?” I coaxed.

Meg sighed. “She was always buying cat food… only someone said she didn’t have a cat.”

It took a second, then I got it. “Serious?”

“I don’t know. It wasn’t like I could ask her. The thing is, there’s no reason it couldn’t have been true. I mean, you Google people eating cat food and it turns out… like, they really do.”

“It’s safe?” I asked with a grimace.

“I Googled that, too. It’s all cooked fish and meat. And I was thinking that as long as you had a lot of ketchup, and maybe some chopped onions? Could it be that much worse than what they serve in the cafeteria?”

I stared at her, feeling completely grossed out. An impish grin crossed her lips. “Had you there, didn’t I?”

I chuckled and felt myself relax. “Yeah, for a second, maybe.”

We smiled at each other.

“Homeless humor,” I quipped. “I remember… you were kind of a wise guy last year. All that stuff you’d mutter about Ms. DiRusso in chemistry.”

Meg waved her hand dismissively. “She was easy. Remember the dust explosion?”

“When her hair caught on fire?”

“And because of the safety goggles she didn’t know it right away?” Meg imitated our chemistry teacher sniffing loudly. “ ‘What’s that smell?’ ”

We laughed and Mr. Smith, the librarian, glowered at us from the checkout counter.

I dropped my voice. “That was pretty sick.”

“And when she demonstrated how to pipette acid and got a mouthful?” Meg whispered. “And she spit it out and was like, ‘Guess I can skip my next cleaning at the dentist!’ ”

We started to laugh again.

“If you two can’t control yourselves I’m going to ask you to leave,” Mr. Smith said sternly.

“Let’s get out of here.” I started to gather my books.

Meg picked up hers and we left the media center. But out in the hall, there was a sort of awkward “Now what do we do?” moment. The period was almost over. But neither of us moved, as if we were each waiting for the other to say one last thing.

“So,” we both said at the same time, then laughed uncomfortably.

“You first,” I said.

“No, you.”

“Well, uh, just glad we talked, you know?” I said. “It’s not like there are a lot of people I’d… feel comfortable discussing this stuff with.”

She smiled. “That’s what I was thinking too.”

The bell rang and kids began to pour out of classrooms. Meg gave me a little wave and disappeared into the crowd. And once again, in a school filled with friends, I felt alone.

One of the silver linings of life at Uncle Ron’s was that his house had Wi-Fi, so I could video chat with Talia.

“Surprise!” I IM’d later that day. “W2chat?”

It took a while for her to respond. The second I saw her solemn expression on the screen, I knew something wasn’t right. “So what’s up?”

“Not much.” Her eyes darted away, probably to the other conversations she was having.

“Hello?” I said.

Her eyes returned to me, her face blank, her lips a straight line.

“Something wrong?” I asked.

“No.”

“Come on.”

“Nothing’s wrong.” She sounded annoyed.

“Now I know something’s wrong,” I said.

Talia wasn’t one to keep things in. “You can do whatever you want, Dan. I have to trust you. I mean, if we can’t trust each other, what’s the point?”

“Someone told you they saw me talking to Meg?”

“Not just talking, laughing.”

“So I’m not allowed to laugh with another girl? Seriously, Tal, we were just riffing on Ms. DiRusso and all the dumb stuff she did last year. Don’t make it into something it’s not. You are my number one and onliest babe. You know that, right?”

“If you say so,” she said with a sniff.

“I say so.”

After that we began to chat about school and friends, but my thoughts kept going back to Meg, and how it had felt connecting with her and speaking about things that meant something. And how a lot of what Talia and I were talking about now, didn’t.

And then, seemingly from out of nowhere, a hiccup of resentment unexpectedly lodged in my throat. I didn’t want to be living at Uncle Ron’s, using his Wi-Fi to talk to my girlfriend. I wanted to be home, using my own Wi-Fi, in a house where the mood didn’t depend on our host’s daily bank balance. I wanted to go back to the life I’d had when at least one of my parents had a job, and people didn’t act like my dad was a loser.

“Hey?” On the screen, Talia’s expression turned softer, concerned.

“Sorry?”

“You got really quiet.”

“Oh, yeah, just thinking.”

I could feel the ropes that held me together beginning to tighten and fray. “But, know what? I better get off.” I didn’t want this knot of emotion to unravel in front of her. “Hit you back later?”

Talia frowned. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Everything’s fine, Tal. I just need to chill for a moment.”

I signed off and sat there feeling like I wanted to smash something into a million pieces. I needed a window to throw a rock through, or a garden gnome to pulverize with a sledgehammer. Why did it have to be me? Of all the families in Median, why did mine have to be homeless?

Getting angry didn’t help, but maybe a cup of tea would. It beat smoking and I had a feeling Uncle Ron wouldn’t be too keen on me raiding the liquor cabinet. The hall outside the kitchen smelled of cinnamon, which meant Mom was making applesauce to sell at the farmer’s market. Inside, the air was steamy and pungent. Mom was wearing a blue bandana on her head and a denim shirt and jeans. For a second I flashed on the memory of when she used to get up every morning and put on black pants suits and high heels, grab her briefcase, and go.

Felt like a long time ago.

“Know where they keep the tea?” I took a mug from the shelf.

Mom pulled open a cabinet and handed me a packet of green tea.

“Kettle?” I asked.

With her finger she tapped the hot water dispenser beside the sink. I filled the mug and sat down at the kitchen counter, feeling the steam on my face while I waited for the tea to steep. Mom sieved the cooked apples, separating out the skin, seeds, and stems. “How’s school?”