Would someone please make sure that this makes sense?
The last few paragraphs are in the details section.
I started my life in the south, my grandpa was a plantation owner who lost it all in gambling debt when I was 9, my mom left us for my Dad's cousin when I was too young to even remember the color of her eyes. My dad did a decent job of raising me considering our circumstances, he never got over the loss of my little brother though. We wandered around the town, my dad doing odd jobs to buy our food and rent for our little apartment. My dad died when I was 15. I took the little money I inherited from my family to buy myself a little farm on the prairie. It wasn’t until I was 21 that the storms came. Giant clouds of darkness that swept away anyone in their path. I couldn’t plant any more crops and the meager funds I managed to gather quickly ran out. My neighbors perished from the brown plague, leaving their child to me. When I realized that the small farm that I called home was no help to me anymore, I took the neighbors child, Jake, and we set out with hopes of landing a job in California. We spent 2 months walking along the road. After those two months, our food supplies had run low so we had to travel 10 miles off our originally planned path, to a soup kitchen. My pride almost stopped me. My father had always taught me that charity was the only way that you could truly lose your dignity. For the first time since I had to beg our landlord to extend the deadline for our rent by just one day, I pushed aside my pride and accepted a few lifeless sandwiches. I had a bad feeling that this wouldn’t be the only time that I would have to flatten my pride to appease our hunger.
Not long after that dignity stealing experience, we found another group of travelers at a car rental shop. There was a young man, a girl that appeared to be about 12, and a boy about Jake’s age. “You cannot rent this vehicle,” The manager howled, “you are 25¢ short! That is a full days pay in some occupations! Do you know how-” “-But sir!” Interrupted the teen, “this is all we have! We cannot spare another 25¢, if we give you that we will not be able to eat for another 5 days!” Then the manager’s voice changed, “If you cannot pay, you must leave.” He said this with a voice of such authority it sounded as if even God himself couldn’t make him change his mind. Just as they were leaving Jake ran up and said, “We’ll cover it!” Me, knowing full well that we couldn’t even afford to rent a car for ourselves, was shocked. I sat him down and said, “Jake, we cannot afford to do that, you-” he interrupted me, “-No, we will cover the 25¢ and then they can give us a ride to California!” This boy who wasn’t even old enough to register the death of his parents, was able to come up with a plan to save us all a pair of shoes. “Now that,” I said, “Is a price we might be able to afford, if, of course, you are willing.”
Later, as we were in the car we learned the names of the new members of our conglomeration. The scrawny boy that seemed to be in charge was called Adrian, the assertive 12-year-old was named Carina, and the young boy, who immediately bonded with Jake, was named Julius. We learned that their parents had died not too long ago and they also planned on heading Westward in hopes of a fruitful future. We stayed on the road for a few days until our rent had expired and we had to return the vehicle to a branch of the same rental company. We returned the car and fortunately, the return was uneventful. After we left the automobile, we headed over to a nearby soup kitchen for some much-needed sustenance. I managed to yet again, sacrifice my pride. We then spent the better part of a week slowly meandering in the general direction of California.