Read Online Anonymity by Janna McMahan - Free Book Online

would normally have been an indicator too, but apparently the boy had brought that bit of hurt upon himself voluntarily. David had seen this kid around. He ran with Mook's clan. He was one of the skaters. Everybody called him Freestyle.
    David had been doing his usual rounds on The Drag, walking around outside the drop-in, talking to kids in the alley behind the churches on Guadalupe. He knew this community and it knew him. Some were local kids from destitute, dysfunctional homes, but most were transplants, children who had escaped abusive situations or foster care kids who aged out of the system and were on the streets at eighteen. They had to make money, find a place to live and something to eat. They had to deal with sex and drugs and danger. Their adolescent minds often made bad decisions about adult issues.
    David spotted an Austin beat cop and a UT campus officer talking to a group of young men. Three boys stood on the sidewalk while a fourth, Freestyle, sat on the curb, holding his nose. David walked up to check out the situation.
    “Officer Dance, Officer Sanchez, is there anything I can help you with here?” he asked. David knew the city police and university officers even better than the homeless youth.
    Officer Dance, the cop, motioned to Freestyle. On the sidewalk beside the boy lay a hand-scrawled sign that read, “HIT ME $5.”
    “These individuals here thought they'd take this young fellow up on his offer.” The cop turned to the students. “What the hell's wrong with you guys? This is assault.”
    The students had lost all bravado.
    One of them whined, “It was just a game.”
    “To you maybe,” Officer Sanchez said. “Do you think he thinks it's a game?”
    Officer Dance said, “Too bad this isn't campus jurisdiction. You're in my territory now. I think we need to take a ride to the station, see if this fellow wants to press charges. Assault is a serious offense.”
    Horror eclipsed the students’ smug faces.
    “We're sorry, man,” one of them said. The kid stepped forward and extended a hand, but Freestyle ignored the gesture.
    Freestyle struggled to his feet on his own. David saw his chance to further defuse the situation. He handed Freestyle a wad of napkins from his pocket. The boy pressed the napkins to his face.
    “Officers,” David said. “Why don't you let me take this young man with me? You take care of those three, and we'll be on our way.”
    “Son, do you want to press charges?” Officer Dance asked.
    “No harm. No foul,” Freestyle said.
    A knowing glance passed between the officers. It was a common enough situation—two introduced species bound to clash. Avoidance was usually the best approach. The officers nodded and David quickly guided the injured boy back toward the drop-in. As they walked away, one of the students pleaded, “Yes, sir. But he asked for it.”
    David slid a bottle of Coke across his desk. Freestyle drank half with a greediness the counselor had seen many times.
    “Why'd you fly that sign?” David asked.
    The boy shrugged. “Why not?”
    “Letting people hit you is no way to make money.”
    He shrugged again. “I used to get hit for no money. Seemed like an improvement.” He gave the mock grin that so many of the street kids had perfected. The look that said they couldn't care less what happened to them. “Sides, man. I'm a skater. I live for bruises.”
    “Look, you can't do that again.”
    “Duh.”
    “Dude, how can you expect other people to respect you if you don't respect yourself?”
    He met David's eyes, hate simmering inside him.
    “Look, man, I'm just an abortion that couldn't get paid for. That's all.”
    “That's not true.”
    “Yes, it is. My mother told me that. More than once.”
    Counselors had a bad habit of saying, “I understand.” You're hungry? I understand. You're frightened? I understand. You've been hurt? I understand. But truly, how could anyone who grew up in a loving family ever understand that level of