2005-10-06 - 5:27 p.m.

Three Young Fallen Angels

As I was walking towards Subway to grab a sandwich for lunch, I noticed three teens sitting on the sidewalk � two boys and a girl between 16 and 19 years old, talking casually, their backpacks leaning against a tree. One of the boys was scribbling something on a notebook.

In and of itself, that was nothing out of the ordinary. That particular area of Northwest DC is usually busy with students of all shapes and sizes. Some of them attend the nearby George Washington University chapter while others pertain to the perennial throng of visiting students and tourists.

These kids were not like that. The first thing that caught my attention was the girl�s long unwashed blonde hair, which had been badly dyed with streaks of something that resembled either black or dark blue. Again, in and of itself, nothing out of the ordinary.

That�s when I noticed the dirty sleeping bags.

Now, that caught my attention. A dirty sleeping bag on the sidewalk usually means that the owner is one of the local homeless, not a student. (And believe me, there are plenty of homeless people with sleeping bags and blankets peppered all over downtown DC.)

As I strode quickly between them, the girl lifted something and I could see what the boy had been scribbling. It was a sign of �Help. We need money. We are very hungry.� I caught sight of the sign with the corner of my eye. A woman walking next to me said in an outraged tone �Hah! I would buy them lunch!�

By then it had become apparent that these kids were probably runaways and that whatever they were doing very likely involved drugs, as it happens in most cases. The last thing that you want to do is hand money to someone with a drug problem.

Still, it is very hard for me to just walk away from a situation like that. That is probably because I am the mother of two teenagers, the eldest of which was (and still is) a very troubled teen. It breaks my heart because these kids put themselves in such horrific danger and you never know what will happen next or if any of them is going to end up on a slab at the local morgue.

At any rate, as I stood in line waiting for my sandwich, I made a decision and went ahead and purchased three gift certificates, $5.00 a piece. The temptation to find out what these kids were up to was just too much.

Yeah, I am intrusive like that.

What can I say? I am a Mom with a capital M.

So I walk out to them and ask, �So, guys, what is your story?�

�Oh,� says the girl, the most enterprising of the trio, �We were driving around when the CIA stopped us and took our car away.�

�Yeah,� says the kid with the notebook, �It was the government . . . er . . . the Pentagon, yeah. They took our car.�

�C�mon guys,� I say, knowing very well that they are lying through their teeth, �at least get your story straight.�

That followed an animated making up of a story involving the CIA, the traffic cops, the Pentagon and probably aliens, in which they took their car, tossed their belongings out (hence the sleeping bags), and now they didn�t have any car or money to get out of town. Plus none of them, including the driver, had any driving licenses.

I have to admit that it was very amusing to hear the rosary of lies that they came up with, particularly because they felt so clever and were convinced that their story made sense. There was an almost innocent pride in what they thought was cunning deceit.

It broke my heart.

I gave them the gift certificates and told them, �I will not give you cash, but you can take this down the street and you can have a meal if you want to.�

There was a big smile on their faces, and the little con artist of a girl tried to hug me.

I am not sure if they will try to swap the certificates for cash for drugs. It is very likely, but that is none of my business. My business is that I cannot stand to see a child go hungry, no matter how troubled the kid is.

And of course, that gets me in trouble every time.

I wish them the best. If they survive this, they will have a hell of a story to tell to their children.

If they survive.

But I got the chance to talk to three young fallen angels and hear an entertaining story.

That alone, was worth the price of a meal.

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