The Lost Boy

me to leave.”
    “Don’t you think she’s worried about you?” he asks.
    “
Right! Are you kidding?” I blurt out.
Oops,
I say to myself.
Keep your mouth shut!
I tap my finger on the bar, trying to turn away from Mark. I glance at the two men playing pool and the others beside them – laughing, eating, having a good time.
    I wish I were a real person.
    I suddenly feel sick again. As I slide down the stool, I turn back to Mark. “I gotta go.”
    “Where ya going?”
    “Uhm, I just gotta go, sir.”
    “Did your mother really tell you to leave?”
    Without looking back at him, I nod my head yes.
    Mark smiles. “I bet she’s really worried about you. What do you think? I tell you what. You give me her number, and I’ll give her a call, okay?”
    I can feel my blood race.
The door,
I tell myself.
Just get to the door and run.
My head frantically swivels from side to side in search of an exit.
    “
Come on now. Besides, ” Mark says, raising his eyebrows, “you can’t leave now. I’m making you a pizza … with the works!”
    My head snaps up. “Really?” I shout. “But… I don’t have any …”
    “Hey, man, don’t worry about it. Just wait here.” Mark gets up and makes his way to the front. He smiles at me through an opening from the kitchen. My mouth begins to water. I can see myself eating a hot meal – not from a garbage can or a piece of stale bread, but a real meal.
    Minutes pass. I sit upright waiting for another glance from Mark.
    From the front door a policeman in a dark blue uniform enters the shop. I don’t think anything of it until Mark walks toward the officer. The two men talk for a few moments, then Mark nods his head and points toward me. I spin around, searching for a door in the back of the room. Nothing. I turn back toward Mark. He’s gone, and so is the police officer. I twist my head from side to side as I strain my eyes, hunting for the two men. They’re both gone. False alarm. My heart begins to slow down. I begin to breathe again. I smile.
    “
Excuse me, young man.” I raise my head up to a police officer smiling down at me. “I think you need to come with me.”
    No!
I say to myself.
I refuse to move!
The tips of my fingers dig into the bottom of the stool. I try to find Mark. I can’t believe he called the police. He seemed so cool. He had given me a Coke and promised me some food. Why did he do this? As much as I hate Mark now, I hate myself more. I knew I should have just kept on walking down the street. I should have never, never come into the pizza bar. I knew I should have gotten out of town as soon as I could. How could I have been so stupid!
    I know I’ve lost. I feel whatever strength I had now drain. I so badly want to find a hole to curl up into and fall asleep. I slide off the bar stool. The officer walks behind me. “Don’t worry, ” he says. “You’re going to be all right.” I barely hear what he is saying. All I can think about is that somewhere out there,
she is
waiting for me. I’m going back to
The House –
back to
The Mother.
The police officer walks me to the front door. “Thanks for giving us a call, ” the officer says to Mark.
    I stare down at the floor. I’m so angry. I refuse to look at Mark. I wish I were invisible.
    “
Hey, kid, ” Mark smiles as he shoves a thin white box into my hands. “I told you I’d give you a pizza.”
    My heart sinks. I smile at him. I begin to shake my head no. I know I’m not worthy. I push the box back toward Mark. For a second, nothing else in my world exists. I look into his heart. I know he understands. Without a word, I know what he is telling me. I take the box. I look deeper into his eyes, “Thank you, sir.” Mark runs his hand through my hair. I suck in the scent from the box.
    “
It’s the works. And kid … hang tough. You’ll be fine, ” Mark says as I make my way out the door, holding my prize. The pizza box warms my hands. Outside a gray swirling fog covers the street where the police car is parked in the middle of the road. I hug the box close to my chest. I can feel the pizza slide down to the bottom of the box as the officer opens the front door of his car for me. I can hear a faint humming sound from the heat pump of the floorboard. I wiggle my toes to warm myself. I watch the officer as he makes his way to the driver’s side. He slides into the car, then picks up a microphone. A soft, female voice answers his call. I turn away, looking back toward the pizza bar.