The beginning of chapter six...

Adam's doing what he must to survive...

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This city was more cold than Montréal, from the lake's winds and snow blowing in. It cut through me as I hurried from the coach to enter the lovely, warm terminal. But I could stay in there only for so long; A guard was watching me. A teenage boy just arrived. Alone. Only a jacket to wear against the frigid breezes. No luggage. Early in the morning. Cuts and bruises on his face. Walking like an old man. With no question, he would make a call to the police about a runaway, and I would be returned to that home. So I only used the facilities and made myself leave. 

Toronto was madness. Construction everywhere. Towers of glass leaping to the sky. Hissing traffic. People who rushed about. So much more-so than in Montréal. At once, I was lost in its madness. At least the cold had lessened my pain. The coach had been warm, causing me to ache and hurt if I moved, so I had slept little, but in this city’s wind and snow I was too busy shivering for that to affect me. 

I wandered along Bay Street, growing more and more certain my decision to come here had been a mistake when I happened to notice the back of one of the curved towers of city hall. I had seen photos of it when I still was at school. I thought at least I could sit in there for a while, away from the chaos, and let my mind waken and let me form some kind of plan. 

I quickly strode around to the city hall's entrance, found a small coffee shop inside and had tea and a croissant. Enough to warm me and fill me, for now. 

To begin, I needed money. I had forty-two dollars left in my pocket. I had seen a notice for a youth hostel on a bulletin board at the coach terminal, offering rooms for ten dollars a night. I had known of a hostel up by the ski resort we visited, and had met some of the young people staying there. They loved the communal setting, low cost and close camaraderie, so I had memorized the address off the notice. This might be a good temporary solution, only I did not know where it was. 

So I gathered my courage and approached a guard to ask him. I told him that was where I was staying, but that I was lost. I held my copy of Stendhal in one hand and pretended I was much younger and more foolish, something many people think all sixteen year-old boys are. 

He led me to the information desk and they gave me a local map then showed me the hostel was just over a kilometer away. 

I sighed. "I now see I turned left instead of right," I said, laughing at myself. "My...my mother claims I do everything backwards." 

The woman behind the counter frowned at me. "Your family's at a hostel?" 

"No," I said, focusing on the map to hide my sudden fear. "My friends. We came from Ottawa on the coach, but they are not very easy to travel with. They want to do everything their way." 

The guard was eyeing my face. "You guys got in a fight?" 

I shrugged. "Only some pushing with Rory, and I fell. That is why I paid not much attention when I left the hostel. I was angry and...and I wanted someplace to sit and read my book." I held up the Stendahl. "This, I bought yesterday. But Eric and Rory prefer to run around. I think I am the only one who brought money enough with me." 

"I think you ought to stay someplace else," said the woman. Ooh-la...careful, Adam. 

I shrugged. "Tonight's room is already paid for, and we return to Ottawa, tomorrow. But I will not travel with them, again. They are idiots." 

I thanked them and made myself stroll away. Then I found the hostel and talked the desk clerk into letting me register early, so I might enjoy a nap. 

Enjoy? To wake up stiff and my body aching, stomach empty, and head hurting too much to formulate a plan for my time there? Hardly. I really wanted a long hot bath, but all they had was a communal shower. And I had no clean clothes with me. 

I left to search for a cheap place to eat, and passed a coin laundry close to the hostel. With several people inside, using it. In the middle of the week. While sitting and paying little attention to the washers. And dryers. 

So...I entered. Carefully. Sat on a bench near a long wall of dryers, reading my book, until I saw a man close to my size bring a trolley of his wet clothes over and slop them into an empty one. 

I watched them tumble. Almost mesmerizing. Then I casually looked at him. He was reading a thick book. Probably from university. So I opened his dryer and pulled out two pair of briefs and white socks. They still were damp, but I did not care. I set the machine to continue and hurried back to the hostel. 

I left my new items on the heating grill of my room and stood in the communal shower for fifteen minutes, just letting the hot water soothe me. Fortunately, no one was else around. 

I still was hungry, but I had been hungry before.