Since he was kicked out by his mother when she found a new man, 16-year-old Dylan Wallace has been panhandling on the streets. Preparing for winter, he’s methodically coming up with his own manual for survival, his own theories of relativity as it were, based imaginatively on those of his hero, Albert Einstein. He doesn’t want to deal drugs or turn tricks like his friends, all virtually slaves to a man who’s part drug lord, part pimp. Dylan can’t get a job because he has no fixed address, he’s always dirty and hungry, and he has turned to petty theft to make ends meet. Nor does he trust anyone who wants to help, like Ainsley, a former street kid now working her way through school to become a social worker. When Dylan initially tries to get off the streets and take refuge with his grandfather, everything that could possibly go wrong does. But, in the process, Dylan comes to realize that by taking small steps and with help from people who genuinely care, he can ultimately escape the streets.

At its best, Theories of Relativity is a deeply moving, sensitive portrayal of damaged kids. But Dylan sounds just a little too adult and middle-class to be a totally credible street kid. He’s quick to justify his own petty thefts, but it seems ironic that he casts stones at his fellow street kids who are also just trying to survive.

In spite of these shortcomings, Theories of Relativity – like Raven’s Flight by Diane Silvey and Junk by Melvin Burgess – gives voice to the painful experiences of teens who might otherwise be unheard.