Shattered by Eric Walters

parent, he wouldn’t have to show up at all.
    I had also dug up an old pair of sneakers. They were scuffed up and worn out. I was sure nobody would want to steal them, and if they did I’d gladly give them up without a fight.
    â€œI still don’t know why you couldn’t have dressed a bit better,” my mother said, repeating the refrain I’d heard since she first saw my outfit.
    â€œLike I said, it’s better to dress down. If I look like I might have money, then somebody might want to try and get that money from me.”
    â€œThen by all means just give them a dollar or two so they’ll leave you alone,” she said. “Your father always gives those squeegee kids a dollar so they won’t scratch up his car. It’s not like we can’t afford it.”
    â€œCan we afford for me to have my wallet ripped off, or my shoes or jacket stolen, or for me to be bashed over the head?”
    â€œPlease, Ian, don’t be so dramatic.”
    â€œI’m not being … Fine … whatever.”
    I was tempted to tell her what had happened the other night in the park, but I stopped myself. I’d save that for later and spring it on her at just the right time.
    â€œAnd it’s such a long distance from home, such a long way to drive,” she said.
    â€œSorry to inconvenience you,” I said icily.
    â€œIt’s not that.”
    â€œYou don’t even have to drive me. I can get there and back on my own. If it’s such a big hassle, I can take the subway home tonight.”
    â€œNot from this part of the city and certainly not at night.”
    I was so happy she said that. I’d only been bluffing. A drive was a lot nicer, and safer. They’d just have to keep driving me places until I got my licence and my own car—that was the reason I was going in the first place. It was important not to lose sight of that.
    â€œYou can let me off anywhere along here,” I suggested. We were within a block now.
    â€œI’ll drop you off right out front where I picked you up the other night. I’d rather not have you on these streets by yourself.”
    â€œI can take care of myself.”
    â€œYou think you can take care of yourself, but you have no idea what goes on in this part of town.”
    â€œSure, fine, whatever.”
    Actually I was a little embarrassed to be driven up to a soup kitchen in a Mercedes that probably cost more than all the meals that had been served there for the past year.
    I grabbed a toque off the seat and pulled it low over my head. It was an old ratty one and it was a tight fit … although it certainly would help me fit in down here. Was it some sort of rule that every street person had to wear a toque?
    My mother pulled the car over to the curb directly in front of the building. There was no lineup in front—I’d been hoping that was the case. It was still early—not even five o’clock—and I was here to help with the set-up.
    â€œYou’d think they could do something about this place,” my mother said. “Fix it up a little or—”
    â€œThey spend their money on other things … like food for the street people.”
    â€œI just think a little bit of paint wouldn’t cost much and it would certainly improve the image.”
    â€œAppearances don’t mean that much down here,” I said. “Judging from your appearance that’s pretty obvious.” “I think they believe it isn’t what you look like, but what you do.” I opened the car door and climbed out.
    â€œCall when you know what time—”
    I slammed the door shut, using the fine German engineering of the car to close her out. I turned and walked away without looking back. I’d gone no more than a few steps when I heard the car pull away, leaving behind a small squeal of rubber on the pavement. She was obviously mad. Good. It shouldn’t just be me who was mad all the