warnings: mentions of vomit, references to heroin use and withdrawals

Chapter 17: Sun & Kala & Will

In which Sun and Kala meet Will

It's near sunset when they see him, the boy curled up at the mouth of the alley.

It's Sun who sees him first. She doesn't stop, has no intention of stopping, but she does slow down enough to catch Kala's attention. And Kala, of course, stops.

"Do you think he's okay?" she asks in a hushed voice.

Probably not, Sun thinks, eyeing the obvious track marks clustered in the crook of the boy's splayed-out arm. "He's a junkie," she says stiffly. "He's fine. Let's go."

But Kala doesn't move, just keeps watching the boy. "He really doesn't look fine," she says with such simple earnestness that it makes Sun look again. And it's true, he doesn't look fine: He looks ill, and malnourished, with sunken cheeks and dark circles under his eyes, and he's drenched in sweat, his face a mask of pain.

But that's because he's dopesick, he needs a fix, and soon he'll get one, and what's it to them if he's miserable in the meantime?

"You can't help everyone," intones Sun.

"I know," Kala says, frowning slightly. But maybe we can help him, say her eyes.

And Sun finds she can't argue with those eyes.

o - o - o

The boy looks even worse up close— his skin sallow, his lips cracked, his track marks red and inflamed.

Kala kneels beside him and reaches out tentatively to touch his elbow, but Sun hangs back slightly, ready to jump in should the boy prove violent.

"Excuse me," Kala says to him.

In an instant, the boy is struggling to sit up. "I don't… I don't want any trouble," he says hoarsely. He squints up at them. "Please…"

"We don't want any trouble either," Kala assures him, glancing back at Sun. "We just want to see if you're alright."

The boy opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again, and suddenly he's leaning over and coughing up bile onto the asphalt. "Shit," he mutters, wiping his mouth, only to vomit some more on his hand.

Sun feels her fists unclench, her muscles relax. Whatever she'd been afraid that the boy would do now seems unlikely— he barely seems coherent, much less dangerous or volatile. She crouches down next to Kala, rummaging in her backpack for the clump of napkins she took from Taco Bell this afternoon. "Here," she says, handing them to the boy.

He takes them and cleans his fingers carefully, not meeting her eye.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome," Sun tells him.

He slumps back to the ground, curls in on himself, and closes his eyes. "What do you want, anyway?" he asks in a small voice.

"We don't want anything," Kala says. "We were just worried about you." Kala pauses. "My name is Kala, and this is Sun. What's your name?"

"Will."

"Will," Kala repeats. "And Will, you're withdrawing from drugs, yes?" she probes, her tone soft.

The boy nods shakily, his eyes still shut in pain.

"I'm guessing an opioid, judging by your symptoms?" Kala continues. She glances at the track marks on his arm. "Heroin?"

"No— I-I mean— yes, but I'm quitting," the boy says, a note of panic in his voice. "I promised. I— it's been two days—"

"Okay," says Kala soothingly. "That's alright. That's good. Have you been staying hydrated, drinking lots of water?"

"Water?"

"Yes, water."

"Do you have some?"

"No, I'm sorry," says Kala, "not with me. It's— it's at home."

There's a pause. Then Kala looks over at Sun, eyes pleading.

Sun knows what she wants. She wants to bring Will back to the church. And there's a part of Sun, the smart and self-serving street kid part, that yearns to say no, because that's the safer answer, because volunteering to take care of a drug addict is a very bad idea.

But there was a girl, Soo-Jin, from Sun's last foster home, who used to say that Sun's heart was as soft as a baby bird. And it's that baby bird part of Sun that nods in acquiescence, that glows warm when Kala smiles and turns to the boy and says, "Will, if you come home with us, you can have some water there, alright? What do you say to that?"

"I'm thirsty," is what he says.

"I know," murmurs Kala. "Can you walk?"

"I don't know."

"Try, okay?"

Will grimaces, but nods. "Okay," he whispers.

And the answer is no, Will can't really walk. But he staggers along, holding onto Sun and Kala's arms so tightly for support that Sun's pretty sure he's cutting off her circulation. "I'm sorry," he says every time he has to stop to vomit on the ground.

"It's alright," they tell him.

And at last, as darkness starts to fall, they reach the church.