It was getting late, and Ash had to hurry if she wanted to beat Becca home. She said good-bye to Mo, Vic, and the others, wanting to make sure everything was cool. A visibly relieved Nate walked Ash to the nearest Metro station, holding her hand, and pulling her in for kisses every few feet.

“I told you it would all be okay,” Nate said with a smile. His relief was palpable.

“Yes you did,” Ash said. She gave him a kiss, trying to convince herself everything was okay. The truth was, Nate still lived on the streets, and Ash wasn’t sure what to do about it. She wanted to help him, wanted him to have all the things she had. A roof over her head, clothes, school, and plenty of food to eat. She wanted him to always feel safe and not to have to confront sexual predators or any of the millions of other dangers lurking out here.

They said good-bye, Ash finally pulling away after a final kiss, racing to make it to the train. She could still remember her first meeting with Nate almost three years ago. By then Ash had been living on the streets for almost five months. One day she’d started talking to some chick she met on the Santa Monica Pier who’d told her about a guy that had a spare room where Ash could crash for a few days. She weighed all the possibilities. What if this place was shady? What if this girl had some kind of con going? In the end the promise of a shower and sleeping in a real bed had won out.

Ash had arrived at the West LA three-bedroom apartment, complete with air-conditioning, a shower, and a fully stocked fridge. It had seemed too good to be true, and the second she met Justin, the owner, she knew that it was. He was pushing forty, balding, wearing a too-tight Batman T-shirt, designer jeans, and Gucci sneakers. Ash’s perv meter was instantly activated.

“Make yourself at home,” he’d told Ash, offering her a drag of his joint. She’d declined, feeling his eyes scanning her up and down. She’d seen the other kids, mostly girls, ranging in ages from eleven to sixteen, flitting around him, like he was some kind of god. She’d smiled at him and made her way into the kitchen. No fucking way was she spending the night here. She figured she’d come all this way; the least she could do was grab a bite. Ash had gone into the kitchen and begun searching through the fridge. It was filled to the brim. She’d snatched a few beers, a couple of cans of soda, and some yogurts and a granola bar and stuffed them in her backpack. She suddenly froze. Someone was watching her. Ash had whirled around to find a gangly teenage boy leaning against the counter, eyeballing her. “What the fuck?” she’d said.

He’d smiled good-naturedly. “Actually, my first name is Nate. ‘What the Fuck’ is my middle name.”