Adopted by Jennifer Lawrence

[12]: Hiding

Maddie

Crud. There I go again. I hate getting all weepy about my mom. Why isn't she here with me? Why did she have to go and OD? I hate Eddie for getting her hooked, you hear me? I hate him, I hate him, I hate him! If he wasn't dead already, I swear I'd kill him.

Lousy good-for-nothing creep.

I really don't want to talk about him or her. I was working up to tell you about this dog named Spot, so that's what I'm going to do.

After I ditched that cop, I got off the main drag quick, thinking it would be smarter to follow a parallel, less patrolled road. That's when I saw Spot coming out from between some buildings. All of a sudden it seemed like ages since I'd seen a dog. You know, petted a dog. So I started walking quicker and called, "Here, boy!' (I didn't know his name yet.) I whistled and said it again. "Here, boy!"

He glanced over his shoulder as he pranced along the sidewalk in front of me. So I said, "Hey, wait up, fella! What's your name?"

He walked a little faster but kept looking over his shoulder. Not like he was afraid of me. More like he had someplace to get to and sort of wanted me to come along.

So I followed him. Up the street. Over. Up another street. Over. Up another street. Zigzag, zigzag we went until we got to a park. It was small and scroungy, with a lot of dead grass and scrawny trees and graffiti. But Spot waited by the water fountain, tail wagging, obviously wanting me to push the button so he could jump up and drink.

See? Dogs are smart.

After we both lapped up about a gallon of water, I read his tag and started calling him his name and just ruffled and hugged and let him happy me up. He was so panty and waggy and sweet. I tossed a stick for him some. I shared my food with him. (I gave him the stuff that was getting pretty borderline from baking in my backpack in the sun.) Then I gave him another drink from the fountain and got a drink myself, but when I turned back around, he was gone.

You probably already figured this out, but I was so busy following Spot that I totally got lost. When I started walking, I thought I knew which way was west, but my west turned out to be north! Do you know where I am now?

Beverly Hills!

This area is like the opposite of where I've just came from, and something about that is so, so weird. How did it go from concrete, barbed-wire fences, graffiti walls, and scraggly brown grass to this in just a few blocks? There are palm trees. Tall, graceful palm trees. Whole streets are lined with them. And you should see the lawns these people have! They're like lush oceans of grass. The temperature is a good twenty degrees cooler, too. I'm not exaggerating.

You should see the stuff these people throw away. The food in their trash bins could feed an army! I had some kind of cheesy scones, a baked potato (with plenty of butter and sour cream still of it!), and the rind of a roast beef for dinner.

Yum!

Plus, I found a great hideaway behind some shrubs in an amazing backyard. You wouldn't believe this backyard. There's a tennis court, a swimming pool, and the most beautiful purple-flowered trees I've ever seen.

It's nice here.

Real nice.

* * *

Same backyard, a couple of days later

There's a girl who gets a tennis lesson everyday at 10:00. I may not know her, but I still hate her.

Picture this: white tennis skirt and tank top, spotless shoes, a white sun visor, sweat bands around both wrists, and sleek hair pulled back into a perfect braid.

Oh, you're thinking, poor you. You're jealous.

Okay, I admit it. I am a little. But that's not why I hate her. I hate her because she's snotty and whiny. I hate her because she's got opportunity but no drive. That little diva doesn't even try. You should hear her talk back to the instructor: "You hit it too hard!" "I'm not doing backhand today!" "My ankle hurts!" "You told me to do it like that. Make up your mind!"

I'd like to slap her silly! If I could switch places with her, I'd work my heart out. I'd listen. I'd sweat. I'd try.

Switching places with her would be funny, actually. Her living in the shrubs, me in the house? Sort of like The Prince and the Pauper, only it'd be The Princess and the Homeless Girl or The Pauper, I guess. I'd enjoy the good life, she'd learn to eat out of garbage cans. I'd become a tennis pro, she'd learn to regret not appreciating what she had.

Nice thought, but it's not going to happen. Reality is, I'm stuck in the bushes. Reality is, I spend my whole day thinking about food and shelter and how not to get caught. Reality is, I may have survived two months being homeless, but I've got six more years to go before I can get a job and rent an apartment and buy more food.

Six more years.

Am I really going to keep doing this for six more years?

Okay. The princess's lesson is over now, and I'm going to say this because I'm hoping it'll help me sort things out:

I don't want to watch other people play tennis for six years. I can barely stand doing it for three days.

I don't want to eat other people's garbage for six years.

I don't want to run and hide and lie and steal for six years.

I don't want to feel all-alone.

I don't want to be this bored.

That's it, right there. That's the one that's bugging me the most. I'm bored. If my stomach's not aching and I'm not tired or scared or on the run, I'm sitting around with nothing to do. I don't know how much longer I can take this. And then what? When I'm finally eighteen, how am I going to get a job? I haven't even finished elementary school! Nobody's going to hire me. So where does that leave me? On the streets? Sleeping in bushes, eating out of trash cans?

Well, at least I'd be able to get into shelters, but I don't want to live in shelters. I want a home! I want a dog! I want someplace where I belong.

And you know what? While I'm actually saying all this, I'm going to tell you something else. When I grow up, you know what I'd really, really love to be?

A dog doctor.

Forget cats, forget horses, even though I love both, I'd be a veterinarian who specialized in dogs. I'd be the best, too. People would come from miles around because they'd heard about Dr. Madison Andrews's special way with dogs.

I can't believe I actually told you that.

I'm a homeless girl, hiding in the bushes, dreaming about becoming a vet.

How pathetic is that?