The story of the Sacramento teenager allegedly starved, beaten and held captive in Tracy haunts me. I know he's not alone. Homeless teenagers, hundreds of them, are adrift in our region. I see them panhandling on downtown streets, huddled on light-rail cars, whizzing by on battered bikes and skateboards.

They don't always evoke a lot of sympathy from the public. Passers-by tend to hold their valuables a little closer when they pass them or move to the other side of the street.

This week I traveled to WIND Youth Services to meet some homeless teenagers face to face. The building just off Del Paso Boulevard is decorated with black-and-white murals of young people who have been through the program. WIND is a refuge, a place to get in out of the cold, get something to eat, a shower, clean clothes and – for a lucky 16, the number of beds in the WIND shelter – a safe place to sleep at night.

Started in 1994 by a nun, WIND is geared to teenagers – homeless kids too old for the mother-and-children shelters and yet not really equipped to handle shelters designed for older, more hardcore homeless men and single women.

Some are just ordinary kids like Henry and Cassie, who come from working-class families and have never been homeless before. Both are from Oakland, college students enrolled at Sacramento State. Because the Legislature failed to pass a budget last summer, they didn't get their state financial aid in time and lost their spots in dorms.

Henry didn't want to go home because he didn't want to burden his single mother, who was already struggling to care for two younger siblings. Cassie says home was full of a lot of drinking and fighting, not a place she wanted to return to. Neither wanted to drop out of college. So they found temporary refuge at WIND.

Maria is 19, a former foster child who found herself on her own at 18 when she aged out of the foster care system totally unprepared. She has a part-time job as a hairdresser. But it doesn't pay all the bills. She counts on WIND for help with food, clothes, cleaning supplies and feminine hygiene products. She uses the center's computers to promote her business and help find clients.

Monie, just 16, has been homeless off and on for years, staying with relatives some nights, sleeping in cars and shelters with her mom on others. She talks matter-of-factly of a father in prison and a brother who was shot and killed a few years ago. She's a student at WIND's Twin Rivers charter school, a place where kids who have been in and out of school for years can get back on track at their own pace.

Tasha Norris, WIND's associate executive director, is frustrated by people who stereotype homeless kids as all bad. Most, she says, are like Henry, Cassie, Monie and Maria, victims of circumstances beyond their control – poverty, chaotic homes, abusive parents, some of whom are mentally ill or drug addicted and some just overwhelmed. The older kids become "throwaways," on their own way before they are ready.

WIND receives some federal and county grants but relies mostly on the generosity of individuals. The young people served here need everything – food, clothes, cleaning products and, of course, money. Check out WIND's Christmas wish list. You can find it on its Web site at www.windyouth.org.

For those tired of the horror stories about abused kids and eager to do something for them, WIND is a place to start.