Sing for Their Supper - 5

DJ heard laughter from the other end of the clothing room at the drop-in spot. Putting down the shirt because he knew it would be way too big for him, he turned to see what was going on. Three girls were standing by the table holding piles of T-shirts. One—he thought her name was Evie—had a folded shirt in her hands. He couldn't hear what she was saying, but he didn't have to. Just her movements told him she was pretending to be a woman she'd seen on the streets. A woman who, quite obviously, had looked down her nose at Evie. The shirt was a stand-in for the woman's dog. Evie was petting it as she held it to her chest while she looked disdainfully at the other girls, inching around them as if they were going to contaminate her. Then she turned her head—apparently making believe she was talking to a companion—with a look of disgust on her face before she haughtily walked away.

He knew exactly how Evie must have felt at that moment. He'd seen the same look on too many people's faces when he was out on the street, trying to make enough to buy a cheap meal.

Evie glanced over at him and broke into a wide smile. It seemed she remembered him, because she put the shirt down and hurried over to where he was standing.

"You're the guy who hangs out near Champion Park," she said.

"Sometimes," DJ admitted.

"I knew it was you. I tried that place a couple of times, but…" She shuddered.

He chuckled. "Is that where you ran into the woman you were telling your friends about?"

"You heard me?"

"Nope. I was watching, though. You made it real clear what she was like from your actions. Stuck-up lady with a small dog. Right?"

"Oh, yeah. And old. Well, not old old, maybe my mother's age. And she was acting just like Mom used to when she saw guys like us on the street." Evie stuck her nose in the air, saying in a prissy voice, "Someone should do something about the worthless people who are too lazy to get a job."

"Yep. I hear you." He smiled sourly. "I've heard them. Way too often."

"What's your name? I'm Evie."

"I know." When she seemed surprised, he said, "I saw you with a couple of other girls—downtown—and heard one of them call you that. I'm DJ."

"Like disk jockey?"

"That works." He picked up another shirt, holding it up to himself.

"Uh-uh. Try this one." Evie took a blue one from the pile. "Here. Put it on. You'll see."

He did. It fit, which was what counted, so he put it on top of his backpack.

Evie grinned, gave him a thumbs-up, then went back to her friends, saying over her shoulder, "I'll see you around."

Maybe. Maybe not. You never know. He picked up another shirt, tried it on, and decided it would work, too. He thought about getting a pair of jeans but figured the two pairs he owned were still in good enough shape and he shouldn't be greedy. He left the room, stopped to got some hygiene packs from the nurse's office, and considered staying to play a game of pool with a couple of guys he knew. Then he thought better of that. Not that it wouldn't have been fun, but he needed to get back to the street. He'd spent his last bit of change on a hotdog before coming to the drop-in spot and he needed to earn some more before finding a place to crash for the night.