Theft of a Life

Ch5

"Okay, so just... stay out here for a minute," Peter says awkwardly, barely opening up the apartment door enough to step inside before shutting it again. This might be ruining everything I've spent months building. All my independence. But as much as I'd hate to admit it... temperatures are dropping soon. Sleeping outside won't be feasible anymore. As the past few days have proven, I can't get a room every night. When it does snow, I can't sleep on fire escapes or unattended rooftops. I really don't want to go back to shelters. I always figured I'd have to, but I really don't want to.

I press my ear to the door.

"...Girlfriend?"

"...No-...dinner..."

"...Why..."

"...homeless..."

I blush an angry red and step back from the door. That's me. Homeless teenager, getting food from a random guy because he's threatening to arrest me.

Peter opens the door again and gestures for me to step inside.

"Hi, I'm May," Peter's aunt says before the door has hardly latched behind me, holding out her hand. I awkwardly take it and stutter for a moment before remembering that I have a name to offer now.

"Sonder," I say. Took me three weeks at the library going through dictionaries before I picked one.

"Sonder," She makes an intrigued face. "That is a very cool name! Don't get many people with names like that," I smile. I picked a good name.

"So, Petey said you're here for dinner?" She nods to the kitchen, where I smell something cooking. Not sure how I feel about it, but I'm grateful she doesn't mention why I'm here for dinner even though she knows.

"I don't mean to intrude at all, Peter insisted?" I apologize, wringing my hands.

"Oh, don't worry, I always cook too much anyway!" May says. "That way, if I screw something up, we can still eat," She mock whispers, winking at me.

"May's cooking is unpredictable," Peter mumbles. May snaps her head up, looking a little angry. "But it's still delicious!" He quickly corrects, laughing as she snaps a towel at him.

"You kids go hang out while I finish cooking," May scoffs. "Door open!" She shouts over her shoulder.

"You can- can set your shoes there and your bag wherever," Peter points to a shoe rack, full of shoes with two moods. There's the regular shoes, for Peter that's just tennis shoes, for May it's flats or sandals. Then there's the fancy shoes. Peter has one pair of black dress shoes, very shiny, go him; but May has no less than six pairs of heels. I like this woman.

I slip off my boots and carefully set them on the rack, far away from the fancy shoes, revealing my worn white socks. No holes in them yet, but they've lasted me longer than I can remember- given that I woke up in them.

I hesitantly take off my bag, carefully setting it on the floor next to Peter's. I glare at it, willing it to stay. That's my life right there. I look back up at him awkwardly, swinging my arms a little. He's not much taller than I am, just an inch or two.

"Your apartment is nice," I say quietly, running a hand along the back of the couch. "It feels like a home should," I say vaguely. Peter nods.

"Yeah, it's small, but, uh... it's home," He says.

"Spiderboy's secret hideout is his aunt's apartment," I tease. "Very serious," I nod.

"Well May doesn't like it very much, but she's kinda the 'I'd rather you do it in the house' parent," Peter shrugs.