Forgotten: Seventeen and Homeless by Melody Carlson

bedding, which I plan to confiscate and carry to the van just in case. I'll remain in the condo for as long as I can, sleeping in my own bed. But if I get locked out, I'll have everything I need in the van. It seems crazy to go to these extremes. And I know I'll have some explaining to do if my mom shows up tomorrow. But she'll have some explaining to do as well!
    Finally, I fall into bed exhausted. Thankfully, I don't have to go to work until eleven so, unless I'm evicted first thing in the morning, I will sleep in.
    The next morning, I take a few more things down to the van. If I end up having to live in it for a while, it'll be like camping. It might even be fun in a twisted sort of way. Then I walk around the condo, looking at it long and hard, knowing full well this might be the last time I see it, and I drive the van to work.
    My job, I've decided, is a great distraction. The work keeps me so busy I don't even have time to think or obsess. And when I do have a free moment, I usually end up visiting with one of the residents. When my shift is over, I actually start to walk home before I remember Darth Vader back in the employee parking lot.
    Tonight I park the van in the visitor lot. I think it's probably better if the manager doesn't figure out that the van has any connection to our condo. I get my old backpack, which I've stuffed with everything I need for the night, then glance around to see if anyone is watching me before I quietly sneak up the stairs, fully expecting to see an eviction notice on the door. But there is no letter and my key works in the lock. So I get to sleep in my own bed again.
    On Sunday morning, I can almost make myself believe that my fear of being kicked out of this place is all in my head. Even so, I don't leave anything I want behind. And after another busy day at work, I come home and sneak up the stairs with my backpack only to find there actually is an eviction letter posted on the door. And a lockbox prevents me from using my key. I scan the letter, and my mom has been instructed to contact management immediately. Like that's going to happen.
    But just in case, I will leave one more message on her cell phone. I've already left a bunch, even informing her of Mark's visit and the warning about the eviction. But when I turn on my phone, I discover that it's out of service, which I'm guessing means that my mom hasn't paid that bill either.
    I'm tempted to just chuck my phone as far as I can throw it, but that's not too prudent. Instead I return to the van and have a good long cry. This is so wrong. Life is so unfair. I work so hard ... I try to make the best of a really messed-up situation, and I end up living in an old van. Wrong, wrong, wrong-
    Now I realize that I haven't even done my homework. But to do it in the van means I'll have to use a light to see, and I know that could run down the battery. I consider driving somewhere, like a coffee shop, where I can sit and study, but there's only a quarter of a tank of gas. I can't afford to waste a drop. Think ... think ...
    I remember the library isn't too far away, and I decide to go there to do my homework. I just hope I don't see anyone I know because I'm still wearing a work outfit (my mom's old clothes) and I'm badly in need of a shower. I grab my backpack, and as I'm going into the library, I remember the girl in the bathroom -the homeless girl.
    That girl is now me.
    In the library, I go straight to the bathroom where, feeling the full humiliation of being homeless, I clean up as best I can in a sink. Then I use a stall to change my clothes. I only do this because I'm worried I might run into someone I know, and I can't bear the idea of being seen in my work outfit. Then I brush out my hair and find a table in a corner where I start doing homework. The library closes at nine so I have just a little more than an hour to finish up.
    "Hey, Adele." I nervously look up to see Lindsey Nelson from my art class, wheeling a book cart toward me.