Rafael stepped carefully around the puddles of brown slush on the sidewalk. He had already stepped in a deep one, and now his left foot was soaking wet and cold. The way his sock rubbed against the back of his heel, he was certain that he'd have a blister before long. He folded his arms tightly across his chest as the wind whipped him and cut through his too-thin jacket. Despite the painful sensation of his heel being rubbed raw with each step, Rafael had to keep walking. The moment he stopped moving, he shivered, so he walked onwards, headed in no real direction. A cold gust of wind blew straight through his jacket so he tightened it around him and tried in vain to block the cold night air. He had been in such a rush to get away from home and his very drunk and angry father, that he forgot his gloves, so he blew on his fingers and pulled his bare, red hands up into his sleeves.
He trudged down the slush-covered sidewalk and glanced up at the dark sky as it began to unleash a slow but steady combination of sleet and small, sharp snowflakes that felt like tiny shards of glass as they blew against his exposed neck.
Rafael sighed. Alex was away at his aunt's for the weekend and Eddie was grounded for fighting, which meant that Rafael had nowhere to go. Briefly, he had considered going to see his abuelita, but he didn't want to disturb her so late at night, and most of all, he didn't want to upset her. He knew that she'd spot the bruise under his eye and he didn't feel like lying to her again. There were far too many lies in his life already, and Rafael didn't want to add another to the list. If he lied and told her he got into a fight she'd worry, and if he told what really happened, she'd be beside herself. She worries too much already, he thought. Besides, if she found out, there was no way that she wouldn't call his mother, which would only create more drama. So, he plodded along the desolate streets of the South Bronx by himself, biding his time and trying to estimate how long it would be before he could finally head home.
The sleet came down heavier and Rafael's stomach began to growl. It had been such a bad day, that it wasn't until that moment that he realized he hadn't eaten since breakfast, and that had only been a quick bowl of cold cereal before school. He shoved his hand into the back pocket of his unintentionally-fashionable saggy jeans (hand me downs from Eddie) and pulled out two dollar bills and a handful of dimes and nickels; enough to buy something to eat. He walked up the street and rounded the corner to the bodega, to buy a snack and to seek a temporary reprieve from the cold.
Rafael wandered through the store, keenly aware of the clerk watching every move he made. Up and down the aisles Rafael walked, holding and re-counting his money; three dollars and 40 cents. He might have enough to buy a drink and maybe a chocolate bar to go with the pizza bagel he had decided upon. Despite the clerk watching him, Rafael took his time selecting his snack. He was finally warming up and he really didn't want to head back outside to the cold sleet that drizzled from the dark skies. He perused the front display of chocolate bars and selected an Oh Henry! and made his way over to the fridge to choose a drink.
"Are you planning on buying something?" the clerk asked, rounding the corner and standing in the aisle in front of Rafael.
"Yeah," Rafael said and slowly turned from the refrigerated drinks.
"What's in your pocket?"
"Nothing. I swear." Rafael tucked the chocolate bar under his chin, shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, and pulled them out. "See?"
"Alright. Hurry it up then."
Rafael nodded and selected a can of Jolt Cola from the fridge and hustled to the counter. It was probably not a good idea to have a cold drink, but he counted on the excess caffeine in the soft drink to give him a needed energy boost. "And a pizza bagel, warmed up, please," he said to the clerk as he put the chocolate bar and drink on the counter.
"You have to pay before I heat it up," the clerk said, frowning as he reached for the bagels under the counter.
Rafael reached into his back pocket and placed the crumpled dollar bills and the one dollar and 40 cents in dimes and nickels onto the counter. His big green eyes watched nervously as the clerk rolled his eyes, and slapped his hand to the counter, annoyed, as he counted the change. Rafael wanted to shrink away and disappear as the lady behind him in line groaned.
"You're short," the clerk said with a sigh. "19 cents."
"Oh, umm…" Rafael searched his pockets again, praying to find the extra money. "Oh, sorry," he said, when he came up empty.
"Listen kid, I've got a line up behind you. Make up your mind. Next!" the clerk shouted to the middle-aged woman behind Rafael, who glared at him as she placed her groceries on the counter.
"Sorry," Rafael mumbled to her as she shoved past him.
"I don't have time for this," the clerk said to the woman. "It's Friday night. The place is busy. Sorry to hold you up," he said as he bagged her groceries.
"Kids!" she said and shook her head.
When the woman cleared her bags from the counter, Rafael stepped forward and lowered his gaze. "I'll leave this," he said, sliding the chocolate bar across the counter. He stared at it longingly for a moment, and raised his eyes to the grumbling clerk.
Rafael sighed and shoved the drink into his jacket pocket. The bagel, wrapped in a paper thin napkin, warmed his hand as he walked towards the door.
"Hey kid!" a voice called.
Rafael turned to see an elderly man with a cane headed in his direction. "You forgot something," he said, raising his cane off the ground and holding the chocolate bar out.
"Oh, umm…no…I decided not to get it," Rafael stammered, too embarrassed to say he couldn't afford it. His face flushed and he shifted his weight off of his sore foot.
"Nonsense," the man said. "A boy should have a candy bar now and then." The man smiled at him and handed him the chocolate bar.
Rafael stared at him, momentarily speechless and slightly puzzled. "Oh...Oh! Thank-you, sir. Thank-you very much." For the first time that day, Rafael smiled.
"You're welcome. You seem like a polite young man," the man said as Rafael held the door for him. "What happened to your eye?"
"Oh, just a fist-fight. Nothing major."
The man smiled. "Ah, yes. I used to get into the odd scrap myself when I was your age. Now you have a nice evening."
"Thank-you! And, you have a nice evening too!" Rafael called after him as the he walked away slowly, with a small bag of groceries in one hand and his cane in the other. Rafael smiled as the man turned back, held his cane in the air, and waved.
The smile on Rafael's face faded as he stepped out from under the awning in front of the store. The sleet was still coming down and he was already cold again. Nervously, he stepped back under the awning, deciding that he would eat his bagel right there, before it got cold and before he got soaked. He turned and took a quick glimpse into the store's window to make sure the clerk didn't see him lingering. Rafael leaned against the building and unwrapped the bagel, his stomach rumbled in anticipation of his first bite.
While he stood there savoring his snack, a police car pulled up in front of the store. Rafael sighed and stood up straight. He stepped away from the door when the two cops walked past him. One of them, an attractive, young brunette nodded and smiled warmly at him. That was new, Rafael thought. Although he had never been in any trouble, the police had never been friendly to him either. He smiled back at her and averted his eyes as her partner, a burly man with blond hair in his 30's cast him a disapproving look.
Rafael turned and watched through the window as the cops walked through the store to the self-serve coffee. All he wanted was to be warm and dry, so he stepped away from the door and hoped that they wouldn't notice him when they came back out. He had nearly finished the bagel when he turned back to the window. Now, they were in line and being waved away by the clerk. They nodded and smiled at the clerk and walked towards the door. He took the last bite of the bagel and quickly turned away, hoping that they would just carry on with their business and ignore him.
"Hey," a gruff voice said as Rafael felt a warm burst of air hit him from the open door.
Rafael pulled his hands into his sleeves and tried his best to appear casual.
"Hey, I'm talking to you."
Rafael turned around. "Oh? Sorry."
"You can't hang out here," the big, burly cop said.
"I'm not…" Rafael said. He pointed to the distance and waved his arm behind him. "I'm going."
"The bodega owner says that you've been hanging around," the cop said as he took a threatening step in Rafael's direction. "He wants you to get moving, and so do I. Now you get going to wherever it is you're going, or else I'll have to ticket you. Do you understand?"
"Yes. I'm sorry."
A funny look came across the young, female police officer's face. She squinted her eyes, smiled, and stepped towards Rafael. Confused by her smile, he studied her face for a moment and read her name tag, 'Benson.' He stepped backwards into the cold drizzle and turned away, worried that she saw the bruise under his eye. Not that they'd care, but Rafael didn't need the police asking any questions. And, even if they did ask, he'd never tell them the truth.
"Well, go on. Get a move on then," the male officer ordered.
"Yes, sir," Rafael answered, nodding his head and turning slightly towards him.
"And I don't want to see you hanging around here hassling customers or the owner again."
"Yes, sir." Hassling customers? Hassling the owner? Rafael knew that he hadn't hassled anyone, but he also knew not to talk back to the police. He turned away, pulled out the chocolate bar from his pocket, and folded his arms around his chest, bitter, as he took a bite of his dessert.
He sighed as he walked away from the store. Already, he was cold, wet, and now his foot was hurting worse than before. "Shit!" he said out loud as he stepped off the curb and straight into another half-frozen puddle. He took a bite of the chocolate and wiped his eye as a tear rolled down his cheek. No one would see him cry as he walked down the dark and empty sidewalk, but, he had just turned 16, and 16 year olds don't cry, unless they were a maricón like his papi sometimes called him.
"Poor kid," rookie Olivia Benson said as she watched the skinny teen walk away into the freezing drizzle and cross the street.
"Poor kid my ass. Trouble maker is more like it."
"I wonder how he got that shiner?"
"God only knows. A fight...a beating from a drug dealer...who knows?"
"I don't know...He looks cold. Maybe we should give him a ride home?"
"Look, I know you're new. If we give every urchin we come across a ride we'd do nothing else. We're not a taxi service," Officer Howell retorted.
Olivia frowned as she climbed into the passenger seat of the patrol car and shut the door. She turned her head as the scrawny kid carried on his way, obviously cold, as he walked in the darkness, hugging himself for warmth. "Well, I feel sorry for him," she said as she buckled her seatbelt and listened to the crackle of the police radio. "He can't be more than 15. Poor kid. It's cold and wet out." She shook her head sadly. "I feel bad for him."
"Let's go," Howell said, turning up the radio as he pulled the cruiser away from the curb. "Benson," he said, glancing at her. "Your feelings will pass."
As the cruiser took off down the street Olivia craned her neck as she caught a glimpse of the teen as he wandered aimlessly down the sidewalk. As the car passed him, Olivia saw him stop and turn around. He looked directly at her before he ducked down a darkened side street. "I hope not," she said softly.