Joni’s POV
The school bus pulls over at my stop, and I know it's time to get off. I'm a senior, and each day brings me closer to graduation. Just three months left, I’ll be out of this hell hole.
I never fit in with the popular kids at school. They're so immature and clueless, living in their little world. Money is no worry for them, while I'm constantly stressed about financial struggles. They don't understand what it's like to scrape by or worry about college expenses. It's like they're in a different universe.
As for me, college might not even be possible. I simply can't afford it. I'm stuck in a messy apartment, thanks to my mom and her deadbeat boyfriend. They're only letting me stay because they have to, not because they care.
After graduation, I'll need a job. I'm considering waiting tables at a local diner. It's a common job for troubled 18-year-olds like me. It's not glamorous, but it's a start.
I step off the bus and smile at Gina, the bus driver. She returns my smile with a nod.
Coming home is the worst. My mom gives me these suspicious looks like she doesn't trust me. It all started after this super close call with Dan, her boyfriend. He almost assaulted me, so now I carry around a pocket knife.
But here's the messed up part. My mom thinks I'm some kind of a snake, trying to seduce her beau. It's like she's blaming me for what almost happened.
As I walk towards the apartment, I see two duffel bags outside. My heart sinks as I realize what they contain. I cautiously open them up, and there it is — everything I own. My clothes, shoes, and all my stuff, except for my piggy bank.
I barge into the apartment, not even bothering to call her "mom" anymore. "Amanda!"
"Amanda! I know you're in here!" I yell out, my voice echoing through the walls. This is not the first time we've had issues like this. The duffel bags outside with all my belongings, it's clear she's kicking me out again.
Amanda storms out of the kitchen, looking furious, with her hands on her waist. "You ungrateful little twat! What makes you think you're welcome here?" she snaps at me.
"What's your deal, Amanda? And give me back my piggy bank!" I say frustrated. I earned that money from babysitting for neighbors as she barely gave me anything for my allowance.
"You turn 18 today, right?" she scoffs. "It means I don't have to take care of your sorry ass anymore. Seriously, do I have to spell out everything for you, dumb bitch?"
Her cruel words hit me like a ton of bricks. Today is my damn 18th birthday, and I completely lost track of the date. I don't have a phone, and this shitty apartment doesn't even have a calendar.
"What kind of mother are you?" I'm filled with disgust. "You're kicking me out on my birthday?" The thought of not having a place to sleep tonight makes me feel sick to my stomach.
"Well, it's not my problem anymore. You go have fun," Amanda sneers. "Beat it or I’ll report you to the cops for trespassing."
I take a deep breath, trying to hold back my anger before I lose myself in the heat of the moment. "Fine," I say with a trembling voice. "Look, just give me my piggy bank, and you won't have to deal with me ever again."
I've got around $200 saved up in my piggy bank, which should be enough to cover my food expenses for a week or two. Now, I just need to find a place to crash while I look for a job.
"No, I'm not giving it to you," Amanda says, her tone cold and uncaring. "Consider it payment for the 18 years I sacrificed for you."
I'm seething with anger right now. The truth is, she barely did anything for me. My dad took care of me before he passed away from lung cancer when I was just 9 years old. I had to learn how to take care of myself at such a young age while Amanda wasted her time gambling.
“Give me that! I worked hard to save that money,” I demand. Tears are welling up in my eyes out of anger.
Without warning, Amanda slaps me hard across my face. The force of the slap throws me off balance, and I struggle to stay on my feet. She yells at me as she points to the door, "Get out!"
I shoot her one last death glare before I turn to leave the house. Just as I'm making my way toward the door, Dan shows up with this annoying smirk on his face and says, "Hey there, doll face.” Hearing him say that makes me want to burn this house with them in it.
I grab the duffel bags, clutching them tightly. I guess the only silver lining is that I won't have to see their stupid faces ever again.
Wow, what a fantastic birthday gift, right? Happy fucking birthday to me, I guess.
I managed to find a place under a bridge where I can sleep tonight. It's not ideal, but it's better than having nowhere to go. However, I won’t be able to sleep. With just $12 in my pocket, the weight of my situation hits me hard, and I can't hold back the tears.
I let myself cry. I start imagining different ways to make a living, and the thought of resorting to sex work crosses my mind. It makes me want to puke. I don't want to be used by multiple men. But it feels like I have no other option.
************************
The next day, I'm hesitant to spend my last $12. I know I need to make it last. My hunger pains are intense; I haven't eaten since yesterday. I find myself digging through garbage cans, hoping to find any leftovers.
"Hey, check this out," someone said. I turned around and saw a short tan man with two of his lackeys. It seems like they had spotted me going through the garbage cans.
As they approach, their eyes are locked on me like I’m nothing but a piece of meat. Their grins twisted into something evil, showing off sharp, jagged teeth. I can't stop my body from trembling as I step back.
I quickly pull out my pocket knife, holding it out in front of me. "Get away from me!" I warn, my voice trembling. However, they only laugh in response. "You think that tiny thing will protect you?" one of them taunts.
"You know what?" one of them sneers, flashing their knives. "There's three of us and only one of you." I can feel the fear gripping every inch of my being. I can't help but imagine the worst possible scenarios playing out in my mind. That’s it I’m gonna get raped, or worse.
"Someone, please help me!" I scream desperately, my voice echoing through the alley. I pray for someone to save me from the clutches of these evil men.
"Now, I think I should go first," the short man says. With a heavy heart, I close my eyes and accept my fate.
But just as their hands were about to grab hold of me, a piercing voice rang out, "Jorge!" The men froze, releasing their grip on me at the sound of the name.
Thank God for this woman, like a guardian angel appearing out of nowhere. "M-Madam Frida?" stammers the short man. I’m guessing his name is Jorge.
The old woman strides right up to the men and gives each of them a solid smack on the head. She doesn't hold back. "What do you think you're doing?" she scolds them.
"We're just having fun," Jorge tries to explain.
"Having fun? Look how scared she is!" Madam Frida responds. "Do you want to go back to prison?"
"No... I'm sorry, Madam Frida. I won't do it again," Jorge apologizes, hanging his head in shame. The other men do the same.
"Good. I'll talk to your abuela tomorrow. You're causing trouble again. Now, get lost!" Madam Frida commands.
The three men quickly leave. I stand there, relieved and grateful for her intervention.
With tears welling up in my eyes, I express my heartfelt thanks to Madam Frida, pulling her into a tight hug.
"Oh, don't mention it, mija," Madam Frida reassures me. Then, she asks, "By the way, what's your name?"
"It's Joanne, but you can call me Joni," I reply, feeling a sense of connection with her.
Madam Frida gazes at me intently. Concerned, she inquires, "Do you have somewhere to stay?"
I shake my head, wiping away my tears.
With a gentle touch, Madam Frida lifts my chin and examines my features. "A beautiful girl like you shouldn't be wandering the streets alone. You can stay with me."
At that moment, I know for sure that Madam Frida is my guardian angel.