Almost Home by Jessica Blank

have to find another way of making money, even though I’m not sure I really can. And I’m thinking about Squid. Inside my head I can see the exact shape of his cheek and where his freckles are, and there’s something that folds up inside me, curled round and warm and right, when I think about Squid’s face.
    When I get off the 217 bus by Benito’s, the three of them are right there, where they always are. It makes me feel like there’s something I can count on. Germ sees me first and barks. Squid looks up and gets a big grin on his face and something twists inside me, in a good way even though it makes my legs feel wobbly. When I walk up Eeyore gives me a hug and Critter goes “Hey, man,” and nods.
    “Where’d you go, man?” Squid asks me, his face wide open.
    I hadn’t thought about having to explain. I freeze for a second, hold my breath and watch the traffic like I’m actually looking at something. “Uh—I went over to the beach,” I say, and kick the sidewalk.
    “Needed a little vacation, huh?” Critter says, and cracks a smile.
    “Yeah,” I breathe out. I meet his eyes: he can tell it’s not the truth, but he isn’t fucking with me either. “Yeah,” I say again, relieved. And that’s all anyone says about it.
    That night when it gets dark, Critter and Eeyore go off to Dumpster for tomorrow. They’re gone for a while, long enough for me and Squid to eat some tacos and for Squid to drink a 40 and get tired. When his eyes start to droop, we lie down in the alley by Benito’s, heads on our backpacks. Some nightclub’s got a searchlight and they’re sweeping it against the sky, throwing up big beams that crisscross the black and drown out the stars. It makes me dizzy to look at it and I turn onto my side, away from Squid.
    Even though I was up all last night with Tracy, I’m not tired. My whole body’s awake, perked up like I’m nervous, except I’m not, not really. I watch the wall of the building beside us, count the bricks, try to stay quiet so Squid can fall asleep.
    I’ve been lying there for fifteen minutes when I hear rustling behind me. I stay on my side, breathing, and listen to Squid move. There’s more rustling and then I feel him near me, but not touching. He’s close enough that I can feel his breath on my neck, just a little warmer than the hot night air. My heart starts pounding like a drum against the inside of my chest, so hard I’m sure he can hear it. I time my breaths so they’re exactly even, faking sleep as perfectly as I can.
    He doesn’t move for about a minute. Eight breaths exactly. Then he’s up against me and I almost jump out of my skin, like when you’re concentrating hard and someone suddenly talks. But I keep myself from moving and my eyes stay closed. My heartbeat’s up in my head now, fluttering. Squid puts his arm around my waist and just stays there, pressed against me like spoons. His face brushes up against the back of my neck and I can feel his lips. I keep waiting for him to do something else, to want something from me, but he doesn’t. We stay like that all night.
    I sleep harder than I have since I came here. By the time I wake up the sun is high over our heads, spreading out in the sky, and Squid’s a few feet away giving Germ water from a squeezy bottle. I wait a minute before I move too much or speak, so I’ll have a chance to watch without him knowing. His shoulders are as wide and strong as two of me put together. His freckles are like a map across his cheeks.
    After a minute I get nervous he’ll see me looking, so I yawn loud, like I just woke up, and stretch my arms. He looks over at me. “Hey,” he goes. “What’s up.”
    “Morning,” I go, and then wait. My heart starts thumping in my chest again. I guess I’m expecting him to say something about last night, or at least act different, but he just keeps giving water to Germ.
    I guess I must be staring because after a minute he looks over and goes “What?” My whole body