Late one afternoon, one of the veteran mall rats, K.O., arrived with bus passes that he'd managed to forge using a photocopier.
"All right, dude!" shouted one boy. As K.O. passed them out, TKO said, "It's almost dinner time," and right on cue, a man delivering Friday's weekly free left-over pizza from a nearby restaurant arrived. The rats descended on him like eager puppies, crowding around the pizza. Within a few minutes, both boxes were empty.
Above all, Kitten learned she needed more than food and a warm place to sleep. She needed safety. Even in a college town like Eugene, there were people who preyed on kids on the streets, especially girls. That's why she felt lucky to have her street family.
The next morning, Jay sat on a small park bench downtown. To his left were Dopey, about 15, and Wolfman, a long-haired 16-year-old. Dopey giggled with an emaciated young girl with lank black hair.
Jay had been homeless, off and on, since leaving the Army and getting kicked out of his parents' house for stealing from them. Jay could be moody, but in the early afternoons, he was usually very talkative, though his train of thought switched tracks abruptly and often.
Kitten was busy flirting with Jay, playing with her hair, making teasing remarks and standing close so that his face was about even with her chest. When she walked away to talk to Sierra, Jay’s eyes followed her.
"Nice ass," Jay muttered to Dopey and Wolfman. Jay took a drag on his cigarette and nodded over at Kitten. "In about four years, that's gonna be some serious stuff, you know?"
"And legal," laughed Wolfman.
Kitten flounced back over.
"Are you talking about me?" She put her hands on her hips.
"I'm predicting your future," Jay's voice grew a bit thicker. "In four years you're gonna be filling out those jeans, and that shirt."
"Will I be fat or skinny?" she asked, pulling up her shirt to show her tight, tanned belly. Jay put his hand on it and she squealed, "Cold hands!" He tickled her. Then he pulled back.
"Stand on my feet," he commanded. She did, and he stretched out his legs horizontally, lifting her in the air above him.
"Gives the quadriceps a good stretch," Jay said. She slid onto his lap. Just then, Dopey's hand slipped under his girlfriend's t-shirt and started to roam.
"Stop," she said--but halfheartedly, giggling, obviously stoned. Jay glanced over at them, frowned.
"When she says stop, stop," Jay snapped. "Chill, Dopey. If she says let go, let go. "
"Don't even start, Jay," Dopey laughed. He'd heard Jay's lectures before. "It ain't right," Jay glowered. "I'm tweaky about that shit."
"You're too serious about it, man," Dopey said, sliding his hand out from under the girl's shirt and using it to take off his backward Chicago White Sox cap. He ran his hands through his hair.
"That's the way I am," Jay said.
Jay mock-punched Dopey. Everyone was laughing again, but Dopey left the girl alone.
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