Read Online Sketches by Eric Walters - Free Book Online Page B

it, but the date on it is way back in April.”
    â€œJust because that one’s old doesn’t mean that there aren’t some newer ones. Maybe the person is even coming back tonight,” I said.
    â€œMaybe, but if he does he’s going to find he’s short a couple of blankets.” Brent reached down and grabbed one of the blankets that littered the floor.
    â€œDo you really want to do that?” I asked.
    â€œI guess I do.”
    He walked out of the room and we trailed behind him into a larger office. In the light I could see a couple of broken-down old desks that had been shoved up against the wall.
    Brent went over and sat down on one of the desks. Ashley sat down beside him. “Not quite twin beds,” he said, “but I think we’ve found where we’re crashing tonight,”
    â€œNot quite,” I agreed. “But I do like being up off the floor.”
    â€œToo bad somebody didn’t throw forty bucks at you today,” Brent joked.
    â€œCouldn’t we just go and sleep outside tonight?” I suggested. Sometimes we slept in the park. It wasn’tbad to lie on the grass and look up at the stars. “It’s almost like we’re camping.”
    â€œSounds like she’d like Tent Town,” Ashley said.
    â€œTent Town?” I asked.
    â€œIt’s a place where a whole bunch of homeless people have set up tents,” Brent explained. “Not the worst place . . . if you have one. Do you happen to have a tent on you?” he asked.
    â€œWe could still sleep outside,” I insisted.
    â€œNot tonight. It looks like it’s going to rain. Don’t worry, we’re safer in here than we would be out there,” Brent said.
    â€œI guess you’re right.”
    Being outside meant that anybody—other kids, bums, even cops—could come by at any moment. It might mean getting moved along or arrested, or robbed and roughed up. I just didn’t like being all closed in like this, inside of a big, old, creepy building. Outside I could run. Here I was trapped by the walls and ceiling and the memories of whatever this building used to be.
    â€œHow about if we eat?” Ashley asked.
    â€œSuits me. I’m starving,” Brent said.
    â€œMe too.”
    â€œDidn’t they feed you at that drop-in centre?” Ashley asked.
    â€œI had some juice and a toasted bagel . . . two toasted bagels.” I didn’t mention the muffins. I’d walked away with three but had eaten them before I met up withBrent and Ashley. I felt bad, like I had sort of cheated them. No, it wasn’t like I had sort of cheated them—I had cheated them. I wouldn’t do that again, even if I was starving.
    â€œI hope those bagels didn’t spoil your appetite,” Ashley said.
    â€œI’m really hungry. What do you have?”
    Ashley took her pack off her back and undid the zipper. She pulled out a white bag.
    â€œWe can have four each,” she said.
    â€œFour of what each?” I asked.
    She pulled out a box of doughnuts. Ugh! I never would have believed I could get sick of doughnuts, but they were cheap—and even cheaper when you grabbed the day-olds from the dumpster—and some days it seemed like we were eating nothing else.
    â€œThat’s all the money we had left after buying some more cigarettes,” Brent explained.
    â€œIt’s hard when there’s three of us eating and only two of us are hustling the spare change,” Ashley said, sounding annoyed.
    â€œSorry.”
    â€œI thought you were just going to drop in to that place for a minute or two and leave,” Ashley said. “You were there for a couple of hours.”
    I hadn’t meant to stay, but on my way out I’d started talking to this girl who was painting, and then one thing had led to another.
    â€œWhat were you doing all that time?” Ashley demanded.
    â€œI was working with acrylics . . .