Chad exudes confidence. The 14-year-old calls himself "Chad, the awesome" or simply "The Chad." When he talks about his volunteer work teaching swim classes at the YMCA or his love of math, his words flow freely, his energy contagious.

You would never know that he'd been homeless three times in the past two years and could become homeless again.

"The hardest part is not knowing if I'm going to have a place to stay," he said.

The first time Chad became homeless was for a week. The second time was for about nine months. The third time, a month.

Each time, his mother, who works full-time, couldn't make rent, and the family lost its home. He and his siblings split directions, crashing with different friends and relatives.

Once, Chad went two months without seeing his mom. He also struggled in school, sometimes skipping class when he needed time to find a place to stay.

All the while, his family kept quiet about being homeless.

"We never really talked to anyone," Chad said.

Youths who are homeless may be hard to detect, but they are very much here in Marion and Polk counties.

More than 1,600 students in the two counties were homeless last year, according to the state Department of Education. Officials estimate there are hundreds more homeless children who don't attend school.

Some homeless children are escaping abuse, family conflict or the strain of parental alcohol or drug abuse. Some have been kicked out of their homes or abandoned.

Others decide they don't want to live by their parents' rules, or are drawn to the perceived excitement of life on the streets.

And an increasing number are becoming homeless with families who just can't make ends meet.

"The economy is so hard right now," said Irma Oliveros, who works with homeless students in Salem-Keizer schools. "I think it's just going to get worse."

Marion County has more than its share of homeless children, county officials say.

And that population is growing.

In Salem-Keizer, the number of homeless students increased 36 percent last year, to 901. HOME Youth and Resource Center, the area's drop-in day shelter, served 848 youths this year, an increase from 532 last year.

Making matters worse, there is no state agency specifically responsible for providing services for the at-risk population, and local resources are shrinking.

Salem has fewer emergency beds for youths — there are only eight — than similar sized cities and recently lost its free transitional housing program.

"The kids come in in tears. They have nowhere to stay," Oliveros said. "It's very disheartening."

Funds shifted to youngest

Advocates trace the runaway and homeless youths crisis back to 2001, when then-Gov. John Kitzhaber and the Legislature decided to shift funding to services for younger children.

By expanding the Healthy Start program to all of Oregon's counties, lawmakers hoped to catch problems early.

Healthy Start has been successful, but programs for older children took a hit.

"We had a 70 percent decrease (in funding) between 2001 and 2003," said Marion County Commissioner Janet Carlson, who served as a state representative during the 2001 session. "We haven't really recovered from that."

"Most of the resources that were committed to serving this population were eliminated," said Jean Lasater, state runaway and homeless youth coordinator. "It's a group of kids that are on the margins of funding."

Last year, legislators dedicated an additional $1 million statewide toward runaway and homeless youth services. Marion County got $125,000. But that's just a drop in the bucket of what's needed, Carlson said.

Through the years, responsibility for homeless youths has shifted among state agencies. No branch of government now oversees services for runaway and homeless youths, although the state Commission on Children and Families recently was given planning authority.

The Department of Human Services, for example, is charged with protecting youths up to age 18. But it doesn't serve homeless youths who are not in immediate danger.

The state's juvenile justice program focuses on youths who have broken the law, but it's not a crime for children to be homeless.

"We lose these kids in between our systems," Lasater said. "They drop out of school. They age out of foster care. They come out of juvenile justice. If we're not intentional about meeting their needs, this population is going to continue to grow."

It's hard to know exactly how many children are homeless here. The only official count is done by the schools.

Statewide, school districts counted 15,517 homeless students in 2006-07, an 18 percent increase from the previous school year.

But many homeless kids don't attend school. Some youths also don't consider themselves homeless if they're couch surfing at friends' homes because they have a roof over their head. To others, camping doesn't fall under the category of homeless.

Statewide, officials estimate the total number of homeless young people ages 12 to 21 at 20,000 to 25,000.

Any numbers related to runaway and homeless youths, though, are likely to be underreported, advocates say. Their transient nature alone makes them difficult to count.

"They're a hidden population," said Teresa Cox, executive director of Mid-Willamette Valley Community Action Agency.

No walls against dangers

Tucked away in a wooded area of West Salem's Wallace Marine Park is an elaborate — and illegal — BMX track. Over the years, kids have carved out acres of hills and jumps, and trained blackberry vines and brush to disguise the area.

It's just one of the places frequented by kids living on the edge of society.

The site is yards away from the homeless camps — at least 25 of them — hidden in the park's nooks and crannies. The camps house sexual predators, murderers, alcoholics and drug addicts, as well as teens seeking shelter, Salem Police Officer Joe Miller said.

The youths who hang out at the track or sleep in the woods know just who to ask if they want alcohol: "Boston John" Howes, 42, a self-proclaimed alcoholic who has camped in the park for years.

"All the kids know him. A kid needs a beer, they find John," Miller said.

Howes has a long rap sheet with multiple arrests for assault, Miller said. Park residents told police Howes was responsible for a savage beating last month that sent another transient to the emergency room.

But Howes calls himself "the enforcer," taking youths under his wing and showing them the ropes.

"I know everything that goes on in this park," Howes said early one morning, drinking a 40-ounce malt liquor. "I stopped a rape last week."

For teens on their own, the city is full of dangers.

Seventeen-year-old Wendel, who goes by the street name Vegas, became homeless this summer. The Salem native calls himself a survivalist but said life can be a little dangerous.

He said he is careful not to disturb others on the streets.

"You can get killed," he said. "If someone wants your (camp) spot, they can kill you if you don't move."

Earlier this summer, Wendel was camping in the woods with numerous other youths, who considered each other like family. Their makeshift camp — which has since been raided by police — was close to the campsite of a homeless man, who they looked to for protection and guidance.

"If you don't know what you're doing and where to get food, you're kind of screwed," Wendel said. "I learned from other homeless people."

That's typical, Salem Police Sgt. Pat Garrett said.

"The runaway kids on the street are pretty well victimized by the older homeless community," he said.

Girls, especially, are at risk, he said. While Garrett doesn't think there's much organized juvenile prostitution, teens often trade sex for food, drugs or shelter, he said.

"We all know it goes on, but it doesn't get reported as a criminal offense," Garrett said. "It's a pretty closed community. Unless something major happens, they're not likely to talk about it."

Even so, Salem Police arrested six youths younger than 18 for prostitution during the first six months of this year and 28 for other sex offenses.

Homeless children also are more likely to experience physical and emotional problems than children with homes, according to a report from the state Ending Homelessness Advisory Committee. Those problems range from anxiety and depression to inadequate nutrition. The academic performance of homeless students also has been found to lag behind the average performance of all students.

For some youths, being on their own will cost them their lives.

In Salem, police found the body of 20-year-old June Inez "Candy" Kell burning under a southeast Salem bridge in August 2006. She had been living there for about a week, after running out of friends to crash with. Philip Michael Florek, a then 27-year-old sex offender, was sentenced to 38 months in prison for Kell's murder.

In June 2004, Salem street teen Christopher Hanson, 19, was beaten to death in Bush's Pasture Park. A former friend, Jonathan Killoran, then 19, and his mother, Terry Killoran, were sentenced to life in prison for his murder.

Nationwide, an estimated 5,000 unaccompanied youths die each year as a result of assault, illness or suicide, according to the National Alliance to End Homelessness.

"Many of these kids think it's pretty glamorous to live on the street and have no rules," Garrett said. "The fortunate thing is the majority of kids don't tend to stay in this lifestyle for a long time."

No single cause in Salem area

Many say the area's high number of homeless youths is due in part to the concentration of major institutions in Marion County, including prisons, youth correctional facilities and the Oregon State Hospital.

Families of those incarcerated tend to move to the area and remain here and often have a higher level of dysfunction.

But local officials and advocates say there isn't just one reason that children run away or become homeless.

Family conflict is an often-cited cause.

"There's just so many different stories," said Shain Oleson, youth support worker at HOME. "Dysfunction is pretty much the only common theme."

Salem Police took 750 runaway reports during the past 12 months, Garrett said. That's an average of about 15 each week.

"They run the gamut from kids who don't come home by their curfew to kids who meet a boyfriend on the Internet and flee the state," he said.

The city also draws youths from the surrounding rural areas, who know they can find services and a peer group here, Garrett said.

Alex said he ran away from his home in Albany in May to avoid being put in foster care. The 17-year-old said he feared he'd be abused in a foster home, so he hitchhiked his way to Salem.

He lived on the streets and camped in bushes around the city for about a month before moving back in with his parents.

While homeless, Alex said he missed his friends and family and struggled with daily life.

"It's really hard on the streets," said Alex, who is about to start Job Corps. "It can be dangerous at night. You never know who's coming around, or if they have weapons. ... The streets is no place for anybody."

There's also a correlation in Oregon and nationwide between foster care and homelessness, according to a 2007 state report.

Nationally, in some urban areas, 30 to 40 percent of youths on the streets have come out of foster care, according to the report. And the number of youths in foster care in Marion and Polk counties is climbing.

Whatever the circumstance, the numbers of homeless youths have been rising locally. Meanwhile, services have been cut.

The main source of funding for local services is federal grants, with about $4 million to $5 million per biennium going to about eight organizations statewide.

That money, which comes from the federal Runaway and Homeless Youth Act, goes toward three services:

-Street outreach, where resources are brought to youths living on the streets.

-Basic centers that provide 24-hour crisis services with emergency shelter and case management services.

-Transitional living programs that offer life skills and transitional housing.

Only three locations in Oregon — Eugene, Portland and Bend — receive federal funding for all three services, Lasater said. Some others leverage local money.

In Salem, the youth shelter HOST Youth and Family Program receives the federal dollars.

Advocates say the biggest need here is more shelter beds, both short- and long-term. Salem used to have a yearlong transitional program that offered six free long-term beds for older youths, but it lost funding last year.

Now there are just eight free short-term, emergency beds for homeless youths.

"We have some basic services, but nothing that is comprehensive," Carlson said.

Economy tightens housing vise

Social service workers say that, as the economy tightens and foreclosures increase, they're seeing more families become temporarily or permanently homeless.

"A lot of families that had been doing fine all of a sudden can't make ends meet anymore," the school district's Oliveros said.

"There's a lot of denial that it can't be happening," she said. "It is here."

Salem Interfaith Hospitality Network, which provides emergency shelter for homeless families, is seeing more families in need these days. The program housed 36 homeless families in area churches last year, said Richard Zielke, executive director.

Already this year, 30 families have sought shelter. Zielke said that number likely will reach 50 or more by the year's end.

The good news is that the families, on average, are staying in the program for fewer days than last year, as they've been able to get into permanent housing more quickly than before.

"We're dealing with families that have good prospects for becoming self-sufficient, probably more so than in the past," Zielke said.

Some poor families are moving here from other areas because Oregon offers more assistance than some other states, Oliveros said.

Workers in the school district's homeless program help connect families and kids with housing assistance, medical care, food stamps and more.

Unfortunately, family advocate Trina Fowler said, agencies get their money at the start of each month, and it's gone within a week or two. If a family or child becomes homeless late in the month, they're out of luck until the following month.

Many end up doubling up with friends or families, living in cars or motels, or camping.

Students who have been enrolled in Salem-Keizer School District for six months can get their families entered in a drawing to move to the top of the list for subsidized housing through the Salem Housing Authority. Five families per month win that prize, Fowler said.

Effect is community-wide

Local business owners are reluctant to be too critical of the youths who spend time on the streets around their establishments.

"Anytime someone is feeling alienated from hope or from their future that has caused them to be in that situation, that has an impact on all of us as a community," said Mike McLaren, chief executive officer of the Salem Area Chamber of Commerce. "If you have a group that then finds solace in loitering or things like that, that can be a hindrance to commerce."

Roger Yost, head of the Go Downtown Salem business organization, said his board of directors has never discussed the problem.

But Salem Police say they receive dozens of complaints each month from business owners about kids loitering on streets, littering, panhandling and intimidating customers.

Those business owners don't want to be named because they fear retaliation, Garrett said.

For the greater community, it's more cost-effective to help homeless and runaway children before they become a drain on social services and state systems later, officials say.

New Avenues for Youth, part of Portland's homeless youth system, initiated a study of the economic impact of its programs by weighing its expenditures against social service and juvenile justice costs. It found that every $1 invested in New Avenues programs saved $4.12 in costs to society.

Community leaders and advocates say the community should step up and help these youths.

"They're our children," said Peggy Kahan, program director at HOME. "They have been ignored, but I don't think that's right. They're young adults. In just a few years, we want them to be contributing to our community. If they're dropping out of school and living in a park, that's not helping them become contributing adults."

For Chad, the 14-year-old boy who was once homeless, things have started to turn around.

In the spring, he began doing better in school. He said that was partially due to the help he received from tutors at HOME.

He also gives HOME credit for helping him open up more to others, stand up for himself and talk in front of anyone.

In July, Chad and his family got an apartment in Salem through the ARCHES program at Community Action. While a timing issue meant his family didn't get help with first month's rent as planned — rent was due before funding was available — the rent was paid.

As for the months ahead, Chad, an incoming high school freshman, said he's not sure if his family will be able to make rent.

For now though, at least, he's not homeless.

"I'm just really glad to have a place," he said. "I hope that we can keep it."

tloew@StatesmanJournal.com or (503) 399-6779 and ekim@statesmanjournal.com or (503) 399-6721