warnings: reference to prostitution, mentions of blood/blisters, discussion of drug use
Chapter 29: Capheus / August 8th
In which the kids turn eighteen
A few months after his father's death, Capheus and his mother had been evicted from their apartment.
At the time, he'd been six years old, and he hadn't understood that they were technically homeless. All he'd known was that after that, they'd had to move around a lot, and his mom had had too many boyfriends.
It wasn't until years later, in foster care, that he'd realized they probably hadn't been boyfriends at all, just men who'd been willing to give some lady and her kid a place to stay in exchange for sex.
His mother had never complained. She'd always taken care of him, even after getting sick. "As long as we're together, Capheus, something good is going to happen," she'd tell him.
He'd always believed her.
Then she'd died, and he hadn't known what to believe anymore.
o - o - o
There are lessons that every foster kid, every street kid, every castoff kid of any kind learns, sooner or later: Don't trust adults. Don't accept gifts. Don't hope for much.
If you're smart, don't hope for anything at all.
Capheus isn't stupid. He knows that no one makes it off the streets, at least not unscathed, not without a price. He knows that it's no use hoping for a future that will probably never come.
But sometimes, Capheus lets himself hope anyway, lets himself hope that his mother was right, that something good could still happen.
And sometimes, he thinks that that hope is what keeps him alive.
o - o - o
Capheus's shoes haven't fit right for at least a month, but today they're almost unbearable.
"I need to stop," he tells Will at last, as they zigzag down a residential street in search of cans. They've only been out for an hour or so— it's just starting to get light— but he thinks his feet might fall off if he keeps walking. He sits down on the curb.
"What's up?" asks Will, joining him.
"Nothing," says Capheus as he pulls off his dilapidated shoes. "Just my feet hurt." He glances down at his blistered toes, sticking out from the gaping holes in his socks, then removes his socks to expose his ankles, where the skin is rubbed raw.
He sighs, takes a box of bandaids out of his backpack, and gets to work.
"You need new shoes," Will observes.
"Too expensive," mumbles Capheus.
"Bullshit," says Will. "How long ago did you outgrow them?"
Capheus shrugs. "Not very long ago. The bandaids help a lot." He pulls his threadbare socks back on and stretches out his legs. "Just let me rest for a bit. Then we'll get back to work."
Will doesn't argue, though he clearly isn't satisfied.
They sit there for maybe fifteen minutes, until a nicely-dressed woman emerges from the house behind them, high heels clacking against the driveway. She unlocks her car.
Then: "Excuse me," she says shrilly, noticing them.
Capheus jumps and starts to put on his shoes.
"Excuse me," the woman repeats, gesturing toward the blue bin on the curb. "This is my recycling."
"Yes, ma'am," says Will dutifully, standing up.
"Have you been going through my recycling?"
"We're sorry," Will tells her, as Capheus pulls on his second shoe.
"That's stealing, do you know that?" she says tersely, eyeing the bag of cans hanging from Capheus's bike. "What kind of person steals someone else's trash?"
"We're sorry," Will repeats.
"I could call the police on you," says the woman, pointing a manicured finger at him.
Capheus leaps to his feet. "Please," he says. "That won't be necessary. We'll be going now."
The woman crosses her arms. "Okay. But I don't ever want to see you here again, you hear me?" she says. "This is a nice neighborhood, okay? People like you two don't belong here. Go take your trash somewhere else."
"Fuck you," snarls Will.
The woman pulls out her phone.
"Will," gasps Capheus frantically, grabbing his bike.
And they run.
o - o - o
Capheus is pretty certain his feet are bleeding by the time they stop running five blocks away.
They sit down in front of a yogurt shop, panting, Capheus's bike parked beside them.
"What a fucking asshole," mutters Will.
Capheus is inclined to agree, but he sighs. "We don't know what's going on in her life," he says. "Maybe her cat is dying or something."
"Fuck her cat," says Will. "She treated us like pieces of fucking dirt."
"But we're not."
"Are you sure?" Will says darkly. "Because that's how it feels, most of the time."
"We are not pieces of dirt," repeats Capheus.
Will shakes his head. "Sometimes I just want to scream or something," he says. "Like right now; I just feel so angry and shitty and... and fucking miserable. All at the same time."
"It's alright to feel many things at once," says Capheus calmly.
"But I don't want to," mumbles Will. "It's fucking overwhelming. I'd rather just feel nothing."
Capheus glances over at him. "I see," he says softly.
Will looks up at the sky, which is by now light blue. "You know what I miss about heroin?" he asks after a while.
"What?"
"It made the world feel small," says Will. "Like... I don't know if this makes sense, but it felt like the sky was close, or something. Like everything was close. But sitting here now, the world just seems so fucking huge."
Capheus nods thoughtfully. "I'm glad the world is huge," he says. "I figure the larger the world, the more opportunities there are out there."
Will raises an eyebrow. "What opportunities?" he asks bitterly.
"I... I don't know," says Capheus. "Maybe they haven't appeared for us yet. But I believe that they're out there."
"Do you really?" Will asks quietly, eyes fixed upward. "Like, honestly?"
"I want to," shrugs Capheus. "So I do."
"You say that like it's easy."
"It's not," Capheus admits. "But it stops me from giving up."
They lapse into silence.
"It's our birthday in a week," says Capheus at last.
"I know that," mumbles Will. "Are we gonna celebrate it or something?"
And Capheus hesitates, because holidays don't exist on the streets, not really: No costumes on Halloween, no turkey on Thanksgiving, no presents on Christmas, no champagne on New Year's. As for birthdays... Capheus doesn't even remember his last two birthdays.
But this year, he thinks, could be different. There are eight of them now, after all, and they'll be turning eighteen.
"I think we should," he says with a smile.
o - o - o
And it turns out that the others agree.
That night, they make plans to have a gift exchange.
"Whoever's name you pull, that's who you'll get a present for," Nomi says, writing their names on eight slips of paper, folding the slips in half, and letting everyone choose one from her cupped hand.
"Nothing too expensive," cautions Wolfgang. "Whoever got my name, if you spend more than a fucking dollar you'll be sorry."
"Spend as much as you want on me," says Lito, and everybody laughs.
And Capheus can't remember the last time he was really, truly excited for something, but he's excited for this.
It's a good feeling.
o - o - o
August 8th dawns warm and clear. None of them go to work— instead, they all sleep in till mid-morning, waking up only when Felix arrives with breakfast.
"Happy birthday," he greets them, plopping five bags of McDonald's down on the ground.
They eat until they're full, then they decide it's time for presents, and get into a circle.
Will volunteers to go first, handing Capheus a lumpy, newspaper-wrapped package. Capheus tears it open, and finds inside new shoes and three pairs of socks.
"I don't care what you said," Will tells him. "You really needed new shoes. And your socks were a wreck too, so..."
Capheus touches the canvas of the sneakers, the neat stitches by the sole. "Thank you," he says, unable to keep from grinning broadly. "My feet will be very happy."
"And they were pretty cheap too; I just got them at CVS," Will adds.
Capheus laughs. "Just how I like them," he says. "Thank you."
"No problem."
"My turn?" asks Lito, who is seated beside Will.
Capheus nods, and Lito produces a small box from his pocket, which he hands to Kala.
"Lito, this is beautiful!" she exclaims, opening the box and lifting out a heart-shaped locket.
"I thought you could put photos in it," Lito says. "Maybe of your father and sister?"
"I will," says Kala, smiling. "I definitely will." She pulls back her hair and puts on the necklace almost reverently.
Lito smiles at the sight.
"And I have a gift for you too!" Kala tells him. She digs in her duffle bag for a moment, then presents him with a thick, glossy-covered book. How to Prepare for the GED Test, reads Capheus.
"You said you wanted to get a GED someday to make your dad proud," explains Kala. "But I think you should do it to make yourself proud."
Lito bites his lip. "Kala... you— you have to promise to help me study," he says gruffly, wiping at his eyes.
"As much as you want," Kala assures him, and they hug.
It's Nomi's turn next. She hands her gift to Wolfgang, who looks down at it, frowning.
"I'm sorry if it's a stupid present," Nomi says quickly. "But just— well, you said not to spend more than a dollar. And basically I just— I've noticed that you don't really sleep that well? And when my sister had trouble sleeping when she was little, my parents got her one of these and she used to watch it and it calmed her down and helped her fall asleep."
Wolfgang holds up the present, which is shaped like an hourglass and filled with globs of colored liquid suspended in water. The colored drops move up and down hypnotically, rhythmically.
"Thanks," Wolfgang says slowly. "I never— I never thought of getting something to help me sleep."
"Yeah," says Nomi. "I hope it helps. At least a little."
"I'll let you know," Wolfgang nods. "But even if it doesn't, it's still cool as shit."
Nomi laughs, and Wolfgang gives her a rare smile.
"My— uh, my gift is for Sun," says Riley, who's next in the circle. "I just got it for like five bucks, so it's probably really bad quality," she rambles, handing over a black plastic box, "but you're good at art, Sun. I thought maybe you'd like somewhere to do it that wasn't my arm."
Sun opens the box to reveal an array of colored pencils, a little set of watercolors, and a pad of white paper. "I used to draw a lot," she says softly. "My father always said it was a waste of time."
"Well it's not," says Riley. "It's a beautiful talent."
Sun smiles shyly. "Thank you," she says, running her fingers over the colored pencils.
"Of course," says Riley.
Then Sun reaches in her pocket and pulls out something small wrapped in tissue paper. "For you, Nomi," she says.
Inside is a rainbow-colored bracelet. Nomi beams, sliding it onto her wrist. "I love it," she says. "Did you make it?"
Sun nods. "It's like a friendship bracelet of sorts," she explains very quietly. "There's one color for each of us. I hope you look at it if you ever feel lonely and remember how many people love you."
"Oh my god, Sun!" Nomi says, examining the bracelet. "That's like the sweetest thing ever; c'mere." And she pulls Sun into a hug. "Thank you so much," she whispers.
"You're welcome," replies Sun, hugging her back.
Next is Capheus. He gives his gift, a cheap drugstore notebook, to Will, and hastens to explain: "The other day, when you were talking about being overwhelmed by so many thoughts and feelings, I thought of this therapist I had in foster care," he says. "She told me to write down my feelings in a journal. And it helped me a lot. It helped me not to be so angry."
"I can't really imagine you being angry," Will says, glancing up as he flips through the notebook's pages.
"I was," shrugs Capheus. "After my mother died."
"Oh." Will closes the book.
Capheus waves a hand dismissively. "Just try it, okay?" he says with a smile. "Try writing in it. See if it is useful to you."
Will nods firmly. "I will," he says. "Thanks."
Capheus nods too.
And then, last of all, comes Wolfgang. He pulls what looks like a rock out of his backpack and gently hands it to Riley.
She just stares at it.
"It's a gravestone," Wolfgang says. "For— You know."
Riley presses her lips together and nods, her eyes shining with tears. "Thank you," she says brokenly. "Thank you so much; I—" She sniffs, and turns the stone around so the rest of them can see.
LUNA, it says on the other side.
"I wrote it in nail polish," Wolfgang offers. "So it shouldn't fade or anything."
"And I'm the one who found the rock," cuts in Felix.
Riley laughs wetly. "Thank you, Felix," she says, ruffling his hair. "And thank you, Wolfgang. This is— the best gift I could ever want."
Wolfgang looks embarrassed. Riley kisses his cheek.
Then Felix produces a box of twelve cupcakes and sticks a candle in eight of them. He hands them out and lights them and they all sing "Happy Birthday" together, laughing as they reach the part where they have to try to cram in all eight names.
"Now make a wish," says Felix.
I wish that something good will happen, thinks Capheus, blowing out his candle.
o - o - o
And it's one thing to make a wish. But it's another to actually hope it might come true.
Today, Capheus chooses to let himself hope.