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She catches me before I fall. “You all right, honey?”

  I nod. Up close, the woman doesn’t look as old as I initially thought—she’s probably in her mid- to late forties. With all that gray hair, I thought she was around sixty years old.

  She moves around me swinging her bat. “If I ever see you near this girl again I’ll kill you. Do you hear me?”

  “I don’t want the skank,” he mutters. “I couldn’t even give her away for free.” He walks backward to his car.

  “One day you’ll come looking for Lucky D.”

  “I doubt that,” the woman shoots back. “Ain’t nothing you can do for her. Just get in that overdecorated heap of junk you call a car and get on from here.”

  He lets loose another string of profanity.

  The woman just laughs, which seems to make him angrier. In warning, she holds up her bat like she’s about to take a swing. “I said git on out of here.”

  He jumps into his car and hightails it out of there, tires screeching in protest.

  She watches him go. “Praise the Lord that I was able to get to you in time. Lucky D is a pimp, and all the time he trying to pick up girls, looking to fill his stable. He don’t care how he get them. It can be snatching them off the street and getting them hooked on drugs.”

  She surveys me from head to toe. “Let’s get you inside the mission.”

  I try to calm my nervous stomach and my trembling body. “Do you stay there?”

  “Yeah,” she replies, parking her shopping cart against the building and grabbing her shopping bag. “When I can get a bed. Sometimes I stay outside in the courtyard when they run out of beds, because it’s much safer than the streets.”

  “What if that man comes back?”

  “Then I’ll have to kill him dead,” she says, matter-of-fact.

  “I mean that,” she tells me when I gasp in surprise. “Lucky D looks for girls that are all alone in the world like you. Are you out here by yourself?”

  I nod.

  “Well, you ain’t alone anymore.” She grabs the door and holds it open for me. “My name is Lucy.”

  I smile. “I’m Kylie.” When we’re inside the lobby of the mission, I continue. “It’s real nice to meet you, Miss Lucy.”

  She smiles back, despite the fact that she looks like something is hurting her. “I can tell by your accent that you’re a Southern girl like me. Where do you hail from?”

  “Statesville, North Carolina.”

  “I’m from Georgia.”

  “We almost moved to Atlanta once,” I say. “But then my mama met this new guy and liked him better than the one in Georgia so we came here instead.”

  “Where is your mama now?” She walks toward a window with a sign that reads Food Vouchers.

  “She’s out here,” I respond, following her.

  Miss Lucy stops and turns to look at me intently. “Honey, did you run away from home?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I answer, keeping my voice low. “But it wasn’t because I didn’t like my mama’s rules or anything. I left home because she don’t want to be a responsible parent. We’re about to get kicked out of our apartment because she doesn’t like to pay bills. She is always looking for some man with money to take care of us. I got tired of living off a strange man’s wallet.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Miss Lucy says.

  “If my grandma was still alive, I could go back to North Carolina, but she died back in December. I don’t really have any other family. Not that I’m close to, anyway.”

  The woman behind the glass smiles and greets us with a real friendly tone. She gives me and Miss Lucy each a voucher for food.

  “Thank you,” I say, glancing around the room, noting the photos of people, framed and hanging on pale green walls. Poverty-stricken men and women litter the medium-sized lobby area, some talking to volunteers and others sleeping or watching television.

  “This is the way to the dining hall,” Miss Lucy directs. “What about school?” she asks as we walk down the long corridor.

  “I missed most of the last semester,” I respond. “But I’m hoping to go back in the fall.”

  She catches me eyeing her hair. “In my family, we turn gray early,” she explains. “I’ve been like this since I was in my twenties.” She goes through her shopping bag and pulls out a shirt. “I think this will fit you. I don’t have any pants that will fit you but you might be able to find some inside the mission.”

  “Do you think they’ll let me take a shower real quick? I don’t want to go another minute without clean-smelling skin.”

  Miss Lucy gives me an understanding nod.

  Just then my stomach growls, announcing another need I have.

  “I know the feeling,” Miss Lucy says with a chuckle. “I was just heading back for lunch. They give you three hots.”

  “I’m starving,” I confess. “All I had to eat last night was some cheese and crackers.”

  Miss Lucy speaks to one of the volunteers who, in turn, escorts me to the bathroom and finds a clean pair of pants for me.

  When she leaves, I remove my clothes and turn on the shower. The hot water feels good on my skin. I rinse out the dirt from my braids as best I can. A couple of my braids come out along with my hair, a reminder that I really need to get them taken out.

  I dry off with a fluffy towel and get dressed in the clean clothes. I pull my braids up into a ponytail with a rubber band.

  “Don’t you look cuter than a teddy bear,” Miss Lucy tells me when I stroll out of the bathroom.

  “That shower really gave me a clearer view of the world,” I say, repeating something I’d heard Grandma Ellen say.

  We get in line for food.

  My mouth waters at the sight of tender-looking meat loaf, mashed potatoes, green beans, yeast rolls. We have a slice of lemon pound cake for dessert.

  Miss Lucy and I find two empty seats and sit down to enjoy our lunch.

  “This is five-star dining to me,” I say. “Mama and I eat mostly fast food or TV dinners. She’s not much on cooking unless she’s trying to impress one of her boyfriends.”

  “I pray she comes to her senses before it’s too late.”

  “Me, too.”

  After lunch, I stop by the library to select a book to read. I spot the latest issue of People magazine and grab that, too.

  Miss Lucy and I settle down in the TV area along with some of the other women. While they watch some movie on Lifetime, I scan through People. I pause to read the article on Kara Matthews and Kevin Nash. Their engagement and upcoming wedding is the talk of every gossip magazine. There is a photo of Kara with her daughter, Divine.

  Divine has the perfect life.

  I can tell from the photos that she and her mother are very close. It’s the type of relationship I wish that I had with my mother. I bet Divine tells Kara everything. My mama and I barely talk, and when we do, it’s about some stupid man.

  Glancing around the women’s dormitory in the mission, I release a soft sigh. The reality is that I’ll never meet someone like Divine.

  Chapter 2

  After breakfast the next morning, I tell Miss Lucy that I am going back to the beauty shop to get my hair straight. I’m tired of walking around here with hair that looks like it’s been on the losing end of a catfight.

  “You be careful now,” she says. “Kylie, make sure you are aware of what’s going on all around you. Other people might be paying attention when you ain’t, honey.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I say. “I’ll be right back as soon as I can, Miss Lucy.”

  “I’ll be looking for you, Kylie,” she tells me. “But before you go, let’s have a word of prayer.”

  We bow our heads and hold hands while Miss Lucy prays for God to keep watch over me. I leave the mission with Miss Lucy walking me to the bus stop, just in case Lucky D is lurking around somewhere. She says that a man like him doesn’t always give up that easily when he wants something.

  The bus arrives ten minutes later.


  I spend my time on the bus thinking about my mom. As much as I hate to admit it, I really miss her. I consider going to the apartment after my appointment with Miss Marilee to see if my mom’s still there. Maybe we can talk and work things out.

  Half an hour later, I arrive at the beauty shop. I walk inside, looking for Rhyann. Then I remember that she’s not scheduled until later. I hope that she spoke to Miss Marilee about me coming.

  A woman wearing a red apron over a black shirt and pants comes over to where I’m standing. She gives me a quick once-over with her eyes. “Good morning. I’m Miss Marilee Pittman. What’s your name?”

  “I’m Kylie.”

  Her sharp eyes survey my face. “Do you have a last name, Kylie?”

  “Yes ma’am,” I respond. “It’s Sanderson. My name is Kylie Sanderson.”

  “Kylie, you must be the young lady that Rhyann told me about. I’m glad you decided to come back.”

  “Yes ma’am, I am,” I respond. “Miss Marilee, I’d really like to get my hair washed real good. I’ve taken out as many of my braids as I could . . .”

  She nods in understanding. “Have a seat, dear,” she says, then starts to inspect my hair. “How long have you had your braids in?”

  “Going on twelve weeks now,” I respond. “I usually keep them in for about six weeks and then take them out.”

  “We’ll get the rest of them out, and then I’ll shampoo you with Surge Power Wash Shampoo and condition you with Infusium 23. I’m really concerned about your edges.”

  I gaze at Miss Marilee’s reflection in the mirror. “Are you sure you want to go to all this trouble? If you just want to wash my hair for now, I’ll take the rest of the braids out later.”

  She shook her head. “Hon, you came to me to help you with your hair, and that’s what I’m going to do. I’m not about to have it said that Marilee Pittman allowed your hair to fall out.”

  I break into a grin. “Thank you.”

  I work the braids out in the front while Miss Marilee removes them from the back of my head.

  “Your shop is really pretty,” I say. “It looks high-class. Miss Marilee, I really appreciate your doing this for me, because I’m sure I can’t afford to use the bathroom in here otherwise.”

  Miss Marilee chuckles. “I’d like to think that my services are well worth the prices we charge.”

  “I’m sure they are,” I quickly interject. “Look at all you’re doing for me.”

  “I’m only doing what God requires of us—to be kind and love our fellow man.”

  An hour later, we have the braids out and my hair is looking all kinds of jacked up.

  “Okay, dear,” Miss Marilee says to me. “I’m going to wash your hair and apply a deep conditioner. You won’t be able to get a perm for another two weeks unless you want to grow it out natural.”

  “Do you have to cut off a lot of it?”

  Miss Marilee shakes her head. “I don’t think we have to trim any more than an inch. Once we get all of the damaged hair off, your hair will grow back in no time.”

  “Can you cut it into a bob?”

  “Yes, I can do that. It’ll come just below your ears.”

  That’s an idea I’ve wanted to try out for a long time. “I think I’ll look okay with that hairstyle. I don’t want to be walking around looking crazy.”

  Miss Marilee chuckles. “I’m pretty sure you won’t have to worry about that.”

  She shampoos my hair, slaps on conditioner, places a plastic cap on my head, and sends me to sit under a dryer.

  “Would you like a bagel or something?” she asks.

  “Thank you, but I’ve already eaten,” I respond, but then reconsider. I don’t know when I’ll get my next meal. “Actually, if you don’t mind . . . I will take you up on your offer. I have a long bus ride back downtown.”

  “In that case, I’ll make you a bagel with cream cheese and some fruit. How about that?”

  I can’t believe how nice she is. “Thank you.”

  Fifteen minutes later, the dryer stops just as I finish off the last of my bagel. Miss Marilee takes the paper plate from me and guides me back to the shampoo bowl. She rinses out the conditioner and says, “Take a seat at my station.”

  I do as I’m told.

  She uses a brush and a blow-dryer to dry my hair. I check out a fashion magazine as Miss Marilee works her magic on me. She’s doing such a nice job on my hair, but the reality is that I won’t be able to keep it up if things don’t work out with my mom and I end up going back to the mission.

  As if she can read my mind, Miss Marilee says, “If you have a scarf, just wrap your hair at night. It should come out fine.”

  “I do have a scarf,” I reply.

  That seems to remind her of something. “Kylie, I have some clothes in that bag that should probably fit you. They’re yours if you want them.”

  My eyes meet hers in the mirror. “I don’t want charity, Miss Marilee. To be honest with you, I really need a job,” I say. “I don’t know if you need any more help but I could sweep the floor and clean up the bathrooms around here. I don’t mind hard work.” Seeing that she’s even considering it, I add, “I really need a job—any job so that I can find a place to stay.”

  “What about your parents?”

  “My parents are dead,” I state, instantly regretting the lie as soon as the words leave my mouth. I can’t take them back, though. “I just recently lost my mama.”

  In a way, it was true, I reason. I keep losing her to those no-good men she’s always chasing after.

  She replies thoughtfully. “I can use someone to answer the telephone and schedule appointments for me. Part of your duties will include working the shampoo bowl from time to time. I’ll show you how to wash hair.”

  I grin. “Miss Marilee, you seem way too good to be true. I really appreciate this so much.”

  “I’m the lucky one,” she responds. “Now I don’t have to worry about hiring someone. I can take that off my To Do list.”

  “I’d like for you to take a portion of my first check for these clothes, please,” I say. “I feel better when I earn my keep, if you know what I mean.”

  Miss Marilee smiles at me. “I believe I do. Why don’t you go over to the bathroom and take off those clothes so that I can wash them? I’ll have them clean for you when you start work tomorrow.”

  “Thank you.”

  I walk out a few minutes later wearing a pretty jade green shirt and a pair of jeans that are a size too big for me, but since the shirt is long it doesn’t look too bad.

  “You look very pretty,” Miss Marilee tells me.

  She gives me a tour of the shop.

  One of the hairstylists arrives, and Miss Marilee introduces China as her daughter and co-owner of the salon. “Kylie is our new receptionist.”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” China says with an easy smile. “I’m looking forward to working with you.”

  “You, too,” I reply.

  “Do you want to fill out your paperwork now, or would you rather wait until tomorrow morning?”

  “I can do it now.”

  “Your hair looks cute,” China tells me. “That cut really looks nice on you.”

  “Your mama hooked me up.”

  I follow Miss Marilee back to her office to fill out an application, W-4 form, and another form stating that I am a legal resident of the United States.

  I have a job!

  I thank Miss Marilee for about the hundredth time before walking out of the shop with my hair looking fierce and wearing clothes that aren’t stained with dirt and perspiration.

  It’s interesting to see how people respond to me looking this way. Before the hairstyle and clean clothes, I was treated like dirt.

  While I wait for my bus to arrive, I sit down on the bench, humming softly. Two other buses come before the downtown bus rolls in. I quickly get on and make my way to the back.

  I sit with my eyes glued to the window, staring at the palm trees and brig
htly colored exotic flowers and plants dotted all around Los Angeles. It’s a beautiful city, just like Mama said, but I still miss Statesville and Grandma Ellen.

  I take the bus to Berber Court where I used to live with my mama. At least, that was the last place we lived. If she didn’t come up with any rent money, then she got evicted.

  I get off on the corner and walk past the park.

  My steps speed up, because I need to know if Mama still lives in the apartment. The thought of never seeing her again makes my heart race. After a brisk two-block walk, I glance up at the sign advertising a month’s free rent in faded letters stretched across the front of the apartment building. I breathe a sigh of relief when I see our car, a dusty black 1990 Ford Explorer parked out front.

  Just then my mama gets out of the car, laughing and talking on a cell phone. Some thick, thug-looking dude gets off, puts his arms around her, and plants a kiss on her cheek.

  She is so wrapped up in him and gabbing on the phone that she does not see me standing there. I stare at their backs until they enter the building.

  I knew this was a big mistake, I think as I turn and head back in the direction of the bus stop.

  Mama does not look like she’s missing me at all. It’s like she’s glad I’m gone. I can’t deny the hurt I feel all the way to my soul. How can she choose a man over her own daughter like that? I love my mama—I really do. I just don’t think she loves me as much in return.

  My eyes fill with tears and overflow, streaming down my face as I walk down to the park located in the next block.

  There is no way I can go back home. My mama is never going to change, and I can’t keep living this way. I give in to my anger by wishing that God gave me another mother—one that knew how to act like a normal mom. I really do love her but I also don’t like her a lot of times.

  I sit in the swing for a few minutes to rein in my emotions. I’m not so sure how I feel about that. Mama works my last nerve and all, but I don’t want her to disappear from my life.

  Leaving the park, I spot a public phone and navigate toward it, biting my bottom lip.

  What if the number has been disconnected? How do I find my mama?

  I breathe a sigh of relief when I hear the ringing on the other end instead of a recording.