Page 14 of A Series of Rooms
A tinny thump from the dumpster startled him. Jonah looked up to find a rail-thin cat balancing precariously on the edge, its spine curved in a perfect arch. Fresh rain soaked his hair—both the cat’s and Jonah’s. Even sheltered beneath the overhang of the brick building, the wind carried the spray onto his huddled form, a cool mist that countered the early summer air.
The park was mostly empty at this hour. He didn’t know what time it was, but he was pretty sure it fell somewhere in between the late-night partiers closing down bars and the early-shifters swatting at their alarm clocks. Shortly after sunrise, the city park workers would be by to unlock the bathrooms, and Jonah could sneak in to wash up at the sink before anyone else arrived. Until then, at least the building itself provided some meager shelter from the worst of the storm.
“Hey, buddy,” Jonah called up to the stray. The cat froze, startled by the presence. “It’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you.”
Maybe the cat found something trustworthy in his voice, or maybe, more likely, he was drawn to the half-eaten tuna sandwich on his lap. Either way, he bounded down from the lip of the dumpster in a graceful leap, landing next to Jonah on silent paws. He kept a skeptical distance, his pink nose twitching. Slowly, carefully, Jonah extended a hand, palm up and fingers splayed. After a moment of indecision, the cat took a step closer, stretching his neck forward. The tip of his nose bumped against Jonah’s index finger and jerked back.
Jonah looked down at his soggy sandwich, the first meal he’d seen in two days. He swiped his finger along the crust, collecting a bit of tuna. Even more slowly than before, he held the offering out, smiling as the bait worked, drawing the cat closer. After a few hesitant sniffs, a tiny sandpaper tongue poked out, cleaning his finger in three swipes.
The sensation brought back memories he couldn’t afford to think about. Because thinking about Mittens was a short jump to thinking about his mother, and how she would scold Jonah for sneaking him scraps of human food, back when Jonah’s greatest infraction had been a stray piece of chicken under the table. Back before he had shattered the illusion and brought everything crumbling down.
“You want more?” Jonah asked, already scooping another clump onto his fingertip. “You look hungry.”
His suspicions were confirmed when the cat licked his finger clean. He was going in for scoop number three when something changed in the stray’s posture, his wiry muscles tensing as he crouched low, ears perked. It took Jonah an extra second to register the sound of approaching footsteps, but by the time he did, his newfriend had already disappeared into the darkness. Jonah let the scoop of tuna fall to the pavement.
He wiped his hands against his jeans before taking another bite for himself. Sanitation was a luxury he couldn’t currently afford to care about.
The second thump against the dumpster was nowhere near as light as the one before.
Jonah dropped the remaining half of his sandwich onto the wet ground with a start. When he looked up, there were three men—boys, really, not much older than himself—standing over him. Jonah tensed, feeling like he had suddenly switched places with the cat; he was the one on the defensive now, and he had a feeling things wouldn’t work out so well for him.
Aside from the incident with his father, Jonah had never been in a physical altercation. Somewhere beyond the panic of trying to wrap his head around what was happening, Jonah found it within himself to be genuinely shocked at just how much it hurt. He could do little else as a means of defense other than curl his body in on itself, trying to shield his more vulnerable parts from the worst of the blows.
It didn’t last long, he didn’t think. It was hard to tell, when time could be measured only by how much of it he had to suck in a breath between kicks to the stomach. Eventually, he felt a hand reach into his pockets, one by one, presumably looking for something of value that simply didn’t exist. A small wad of what Jonah was pretty sure were three crumpled dollar bills was all they could take.
Three dollars was the price he paid for his beating. He only hoped it would be enough to make them leave.
Jonah groaned as a final boot contacted his back, unable to scream when his lungs felt like they were deflated. He curled in tighter on the ground, preparing for another onslaught, when another voice added to the mix.
The newcomer drew closer, and Jonah could make out some sort of shouting through the echo of the falling rain that muffled all other sound around him. Was he dying? Was this what dying felt like? Had they killed him for three dollars and a laugh? He couldn’t open his eyes to find out.
Not until a soft hand touched his face.
He jerked back.
“Hey.” The voice was quieter now, gentler, dipping into his personal space. “Are you okay?”
Jonah dared to peer up from behind his arms. The man who had chased off his assailants looked to be a bit older than Jonah, kneeling in front of him with shaggy blond hair and a full face of piercings. Something in Jonah’s mind supplied that he looked like the type of person that would attract all the wrong attention in his hometown. Someone his own family would turn their noses up at.
“I don’t...” Jonah swallowed, bringing his hands up to cover his ribs. He winced at the contact. “I don’t know.”
“Let’s get you out of the rain. Do you think you can stand?” He was already extending a hand to help him up, but Jonah shrank back.
“I don’t have anywhere to go.”
He wasn’t sure why he said it, but it was true. Even so, a part of him regretted it when the look of concern turned to something more like pity.
“A hospital, maybe?” His voice was light, as if trying to take the edge off of a humorless situation.
“I don’t have money.”
“I can’t just leave you here.” He sighed, tilting his head down at Jonah. It reminded him of the way the cat had looked at him just minutes before. The boy turned over his shoulder, toward the building across the street, where he had presumably come from. Distantly, Jonah could make out the muffled sound of music, loud and heavy. After a moment, he looked back at Jonah, pressing his lips together, then nodded decisively. “Alright. You’re coming home with me.”
Jonah blinked. “What?”
“Just to get you cleaned up. You don’t have to stay,” he said, then smiled. “But you’re welcome to, for the night. If you want. The rain isn’t stopping anytime soon.”
Jonah struggled to push himself into a sitting position, using the side of the dumpster as leverage. “You don’t even know me,” he said. Something about the stranger’s kindness was almost as off-putting as it was comforting.
