I guess I should explain.

I went to see Terminator 3 with my friends Saul, Amanda, Miguel, and Christopher. After that we all went out to eat. The laughs were loud, the food was tasty, and the times were good. But I kept thinking about someone I met just moments earlier.

I was at the bus stop in front of the scummy looking motel accross the street right after school. I had to get home to meet up with my friends. I waited for a few minutes, then this twentysomething girl walked out of the motel office and stood a few feet away from me.

She had brown skin, and long black hair. We stood a few feet away from each other, not saying anything. Finally she asked, "Excuse me, do you have a light?"

She sounded a lot younger than she looked. When I turned to look at her, I noticed the scratches and purple marks on both sides of her neck, "No, I'm sorry."

"It's ok," she turned away from me. I could see the marks in better detail, she looks like she'd just been roughed up recently, "do you know where I could find any studios around here?"

I thought for a moment, dance studios? No, that's not it, "I'm sorry that I'm not more help to you, but I don't know any studio apartments around here. I never had to look for one yet." I sort of half smiled and shrugged.

She looked at me a little confused, "Oh, how old are you?"

"I'm seventeen."

"You're shitting me! God, you look like you're 28 or something!"

"Yeah, I get that a lot."

"Well, you carry yourself very maturely for your age."

Was she hitting on me? This felt kinda weird, but pretty cool. Before I could respond, the bus came. I got on and sat down, she sat right across from me. I asked, "How long have you been in Chicago?"

"Oh actually I was born here in Chicago. I lived in Humboldt Park."

"That's pretty far from here," and also a really bad neighborhood, "what are you doing in a motel?"

"I just signed in last night," she was fiddling with the strap to her book bag, her hands looked incredibly worn, "my mom just kicked me and my brother out two days ago, that's why I asked about the apartments. I just went to the motel because I can't stay on the streets, you know man? And I have to take care of my little bro. If you know anybody, tell them I'll pay cash upfront for this month and the next. Couple of my friends loaned me a grand yesterday."

I was...I was dumbfounded, "How old are you?"

Her hands were trembling by now. She was trying incredibly hard to stay calm, "I turned seventeen last month."

A fascination came over me at a base level, coupled with a shame for feeling it, "Why were you and you're brother kicked out?"

"My mom's a fucking addict, that's why." I was silent, "She sold my jewelry that I got for my birthday while I was at school for some extra cash. And three days ago I caught her beating the shit out of my brother because his room wasn't clean."

"Oh man, I know how that feels."

"I tried to stop it and she and I started to fight. That's when I grabbed him and we broke. Yeah, I got him faded. But I had twelve fucking dollars on me, and he had four. He's at the motel watching tv now. God, he's just twelve."

I wanted to help her, I really did, "You got a job? You're gonna need money if you're gonna be on you're own."

"Yeah, I work by the Metro now. Actually, I'm supposed to start later today. But I'm gonna tell my boss about my situation and ask him if I can start on Friday. You know, so I can look for a studio."

"I'm sure he'll understand," I was struck with a thought, "you know, my sister was kicked out when she was sixteen."

"Why?"

"She was expelled from school," she hung on my every word, "she got a job at an auto parts store, and went to Roger's Park and found a cheap apartment over there. That's a good place to hide, so you should look there. She disappeared for like, three years."

"Where is Roger's Park?"

"It's over by the far north, around Morse," she was writing this down, "you can get there on the Clark bus. Some parts are a little rough over there, though."

"Thank you."

Another thought struck me, "You know what you can do? There's a library about three stops ahead, you can go there and ask them for a newspaper called the Reader. Lookup apartments and studios located in Roger's Park in the classifieds and just keep calling whatever numbers you find. I'm sure you'll find something."

She wrote furiously, "Wow, thanks a bunch," I felt like I still hadn't done enough, "I was starting to panic. Thanks."

She stayed on the bus for just a moment longer the Sulzer library was coming up. When it did, she got up and kissed me on the cheek, "Thanks, yo."

She got off the bus. When it started off, I opened the window, "Hey! What's your name?"

"Jaclyn!"

"I'm David!"

We waved goodbye.

I'll never see her again.

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