Free Hitchhikers by Kate Spofford

explain myself to an animal who has no idea what
I’m saying, “You can’t do that, let me get too hungry. You’re lucky
I didn’t kill you.”
    She leaps at a crow pecking at roadkill,
snapping her teeth as it flies off.
    “I’m serious! And no more going through the
woods. We stick to the roads. I can find food on the road.”
    Trotting back to where I’m walking along,
Lila licks at my hand. I snatch it away. “I’m still mad.”
    My stomach full of woodland creatures keeps
almost all day. Until we hit a diner planted in the middle of a
barren stretch of road, and the smell of burgers on the grill
reminds me that I haven’t eaten since about 3 a.m.
    There’s no sign on the door to say otherwise,
so I let Lila in with me, and we seat ourselves at a booth in the
corner. Lila curls up on my feet under the table.
    Two men at the counter, sitting a couple of
stools apart. Both sport the flannel shirt and down vest combo of
truckers. One of the other booths holds a teenage couple sitting
across from each other. The boy’s wearing a football jersey.
There’s a family at another booth, a mom with stringy hair wearing
a waitress uniform and two squirmy kids dipping French fries into
ketchup. I can only see the back of the dad’s head but he’s got a
large bald patch.
    As I look around at all of them, I begin to
realize that most of them are looking back at me.
    The waitress finally sees me. She has bright
red hair pulled up and heavy eyeliner, and she’s wearing the same
brown and tan uniform as the lady sitting with her family. I order
a burger and fries and a large soda. “Can I have another burger
just plain? Like no bun or anything else?”
    She looks down at my feet and suddenly I fear
I’m going to get kicked out of this place.
    “Sure.”
    When she walks back behind the counter I
watch her conferring with a woman in back wearing an apron. I close
my eyes and listen to their low voices under the clink and clatter
of the diner.
    “Hey, Donna, that kid’s got a dog in here,
under the table.”
    “Is it a service dog?”
    “No… It looks like some stray. But who knows.
The dog’s got no collar, and he looks like he’s been sleeping in
the woods.”
    “Where is he? Oh. Well, I don’t see what harm
it can do to let him stay. The dog’s lying down.”
    “Isn’t it unsanitary?”
    “We have to let service animals in here… it’s
not any more unsanitary than that.”
    A big sigh. “You’re the boss…”
    I whisper a thank you and open my eyes.
Everyone has stopped looking at me. Maybe they’ve also overheard
the conversation between the waitress and Donna, or maybe I’m not
all that interesting. I’m just some homeless kid with a scruffy
mutt. They probably think I’m going to run off before I pay the
bill.
    “Here you go, hon.” A plate slides in front
of me. Hot food. I shove a bunch of French fries in my mouth even
as I’m reaching for the ketchup. Then I see the waitress sliding
into the seat in the booth opposite me.
    “You got a place to stay tonight?” she asks
in a low voice. She can probably feel the eyes of the other people
in the restaurant on the back of her neck. Now I can see that her
name tag says Beverly.
    “I’ll be okay,” I answer, which I know isn’t
really an answer. My stomach gurgles with nervousness.
    Not here not now
    “I’m just passing through.” I try to appear
confident when I say this, like I’m older than sixteen
    (or fifteen)
    “I don’t want to hear that someone’s found
you dead on the side of the road.” Beverly steals a French fry off
my plate. “Donna’s a bleeding heart, but mine’s not made out of
stone either. And I’m not letting her take you in for the night,
her being all alone. My husband will be here to pick me up around
9. If you’re still here you’re welcome to stay with us.” She sniffs
as she slides out of the booth. “You could certainly use a
shower.”
    I don’t answer. I don’t think Beverly needs
or wants me to.