Macy

"get a job, you fucking freak!" the man

barked, 

slapping 

away the girl's 

hand.

she looked down before the tears came, 

before the man could see them. 

she folded the sign she had placed in front

of her 

and ran along the sidewalk to the stairwell

that went

beneath the street.

she always liked her name. 

"Macy," she said 

aloud just to hear the sound.

it rolled from her tongue.

it reminded

her of poets and musicians

and stores where she couldn't shop.

it also helped her forget the people up

above,

helped displace their words,

their judgments,

their stares.

Macy got a running 

start 

and kicked her foot up 

when she was close to the fence.

she grabbed on and pulled herself up

the chain link and over the top.

she landed sure and pulled up her pants 

and checked her pocket 

to make sure the money was still there.

she strolled along the canal, 

kicking a crumpled water 

bottle as she went. it rustled and skidded,

coming to a rest a few feet away.

she kicked it again when she caught up.

an open water drain led through from the

canal and

Macy ducked down to cross to the other side. she thumbed 

at a broken 

MP3 player in her pocket, 

remembering when it was new,

when she would listen to it in her room before her dad died

and her new life began.

that was back when she still thought she

was

pretty.

the drain led to an overflow pond where she hadn't seen water

since as far back as she could remember. there was 

only ever the trickle of 

a stream in the winter and spring.

it was beautiful in its own way.

there were trees all around. the rest of the area was overgrown

with bamboo which blocked the view from the freeway.

a couple of hundred yards away, further out in the river bottom,

is where she lived with her mom and her younger sister.

they would be waiting for her.

blocked by a few short palm trees and neck high grass was 

where she lived. a small shack made out of whatever happened

by when the lower part of the river flooded in the spring when the 

snow melted in the mountains.

a tarp served as a roof over four thrown together walls that were held in place with twine and scraps of rope Macy found in a dumpster behind a hardware store. the door was a sheet. the floor was dirt covered by 

scraps of carpet

left over from a renovation

a few miles away.

she thought of her mother as she neared.

she thought about when people used to call her 'Karen'. 

-before

they began referring to her as 'move, bitch,' or,

'get the fuck out of the way.'

she pulled the sheet aside and her sister, Tabby 

smiled 

and ran up, 

throwing her arms around

Macy.

"how'd you do?" her mother asked, kneeling over a bucket

of water, washing out the dirt from

permanently stained clothes.

"I did good," she said, "some guy gave me a

twenty."

Karen looked up from the bucket.

"that

is

good."

"he would have given me more, but I wouldn't

do what he asked

me to."

Karen shook her head. "no,

you never have to

do that."

"I know, mom," she said, but the memory 

made her wonder 

how much more she would have gotten

if she had.