of homeless kids to jump them.
Rachel took a five-dollar bill and held it just out of Maggot’s reach. “I want you to promise me that you’ll think about what I said. You don’t have to live like this.”
Maggot looked up at her like a puppy. It must have been hard for him not to snatch the bill out of her fingers.
“Promise?” Rachel asked.
“I promise.” Maggot took the bill from her. Rachelturned to her friend, who shook his head like he couldn’t believe what she’d done. Together they went off down the sidewalk.
Maggot held the five-dollar bill flat and tight between his fingers. “Worked like a charm. The sign pulls them in, but you know what really ices the deal? Spelling marijuana wrong. It brings out all their middle-class guilt about the poor getting a crap education.”
“You gonna keep your promise?” OG teased.
“I promise …” Maggot heaved himself up to his feet, “to go find Lost right now. Later, compadres.”
“Hey, bring something back for us,” OG called after him, then started to cough again.
“Sure,” Maggot called back over his shoulder with a laugh. “I promise.”
TEN
Since the “Money For Maryjuana” sign worked for Maggot, I tried it next. Pest squirmed out of OG’s arms and wanted to play again, so OG tied the rope to his backpack and Pest played tug-of-war with that instead. He growled and pulled but couldn’t get the backpack to budge. Then Tears came along dragging a clear plastic garbage bag half-filled with yellow and red McDonald’s cups and napkins and other garbage.
We tore open the bag and dug into the food, picking out mushy French fries, cheeseburgers with two or three bites taken out of them, and tall waxy cups with a few ounces of soda left in the bottoms. The smell of food filled the air.
“I told them to hold the pickles,” OG joked, using his dirty fingers to pull a slice of green pickle out of a half-eaten bun. Pest barked and wagged his tail eagerly. OG tore off a piece of hamburger and fed it to him.
I found half a Big Mac and bit into it. White sauce dripped down my hands and onto my pants. From the first bite my stomach growled like it was angry that I forgot to feed it for the past few days.
“Whose dog is that?”
We looked up to find a woman with frizzy red hairstanding over us. She was wearing a gray sweatshirt that said PETA.
“He’s mine.” OG put his hands around Pest and drew him close.
“You shouldn’t be feeding him garbage,” the woman said.
“It’s good garbage,” I said, holding up a partly eaten Big Mac. A clump of lettuce fell onto the sidewalk. Just to gross out the woman, I picked it up and put it in my mouth. “Good enough for humans.”
Tears raised her hand like she was in school. “What’s PETA?”
“People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals,” the woman answered and looked back at OG. “Has he had his shots?” she demanded.
Whatever answer OG started to give was lost in a spasm of coughing.
“Have
you
?” Tears asked. I’d never seen her talk back to a grown-up before. She was learning to be a street kid.
“Of course he hasn’t had his shots.” The woman answered her own question. “You can’t even take care of yourselves, much less a pet. Is he fixed?”
“Get lost,” OG croaked between coughs.
“You shouldn’t be allowed to have animals,” the woman said. “You don’t know how to take care of them.”
“He’ll do a better job than you,” I said.
The woman put her hands on her hips. “That’s suchnonsense. Look at what he’s feeding him.”
“He loves him,” I said. “You don’t love nothing.”
“How would you know?” the PETA woman asked. She stared at me more closely.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m fixed and I had my shots.”
The woman frowned, then turned back to OG. “Someone should take that dog away and give it a good home. It’s just going to die out here on the street. If you really love that dog you should give it to me. I’ll
Rachel took a five-dollar bill and held it just out of Maggot’s reach. “I want you to promise me that you’ll think about what I said. You don’t have to live like this.”
Maggot looked up at her like a puppy. It must have been hard for him not to snatch the bill out of her fingers.
“Promise?” Rachel asked.
“I promise.” Maggot took the bill from her. Rachelturned to her friend, who shook his head like he couldn’t believe what she’d done. Together they went off down the sidewalk.
Maggot held the five-dollar bill flat and tight between his fingers. “Worked like a charm. The sign pulls them in, but you know what really ices the deal? Spelling marijuana wrong. It brings out all their middle-class guilt about the poor getting a crap education.”
“You gonna keep your promise?” OG teased.
“I promise …” Maggot heaved himself up to his feet, “to go find Lost right now. Later, compadres.”
“Hey, bring something back for us,” OG called after him, then started to cough again.
“Sure,” Maggot called back over his shoulder with a laugh. “I promise.”
TEN
Since the “Money For Maryjuana” sign worked for Maggot, I tried it next. Pest squirmed out of OG’s arms and wanted to play again, so OG tied the rope to his backpack and Pest played tug-of-war with that instead. He growled and pulled but couldn’t get the backpack to budge. Then Tears came along dragging a clear plastic garbage bag half-filled with yellow and red McDonald’s cups and napkins and other garbage.
We tore open the bag and dug into the food, picking out mushy French fries, cheeseburgers with two or three bites taken out of them, and tall waxy cups with a few ounces of soda left in the bottoms. The smell of food filled the air.
“I told them to hold the pickles,” OG joked, using his dirty fingers to pull a slice of green pickle out of a half-eaten bun. Pest barked and wagged his tail eagerly. OG tore off a piece of hamburger and fed it to him.
I found half a Big Mac and bit into it. White sauce dripped down my hands and onto my pants. From the first bite my stomach growled like it was angry that I forgot to feed it for the past few days.
“Whose dog is that?”
We looked up to find a woman with frizzy red hairstanding over us. She was wearing a gray sweatshirt that said PETA.
“He’s mine.” OG put his hands around Pest and drew him close.
“You shouldn’t be feeding him garbage,” the woman said.
“It’s good garbage,” I said, holding up a partly eaten Big Mac. A clump of lettuce fell onto the sidewalk. Just to gross out the woman, I picked it up and put it in my mouth. “Good enough for humans.”
Tears raised her hand like she was in school. “What’s PETA?”
“People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals,” the woman answered and looked back at OG. “Has he had his shots?” she demanded.
Whatever answer OG started to give was lost in a spasm of coughing.
“Have
you
?” Tears asked. I’d never seen her talk back to a grown-up before. She was learning to be a street kid.
“Of course he hasn’t had his shots.” The woman answered her own question. “You can’t even take care of yourselves, much less a pet. Is he fixed?”
“Get lost,” OG croaked between coughs.
“You shouldn’t be allowed to have animals,” the woman said. “You don’t know how to take care of them.”
“He’ll do a better job than you,” I said.
The woman put her hands on her hips. “That’s suchnonsense. Look at what he’s feeding him.”
“He loves him,” I said. “You don’t love nothing.”
“How would you know?” the PETA woman asked. She stared at me more closely.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m fixed and I had my shots.”
The woman frowned, then turned back to OG. “Someone should take that dog away and give it a good home. It’s just going to die out here on the street. If you really love that dog you should give it to me. I’ll
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