What she calls “backpack living,” others call homelessness.

But “living here, living there” is how Abby Ripka, 22, of Bellefonte gets by.

“It’s not luxurious. It’s not fun,” said Ripka. “There’s nothing cool about living out of a backpack.”

Along with a napsack full of possessions, Ripka, a former foster child and high school dropout, carries with her the weight of past mistakes as she searches for a permanent home within her budget.

Ripka’s story is familiar to Kim Wood, director of Stepping Stones, a transitional home for youth ages 16 to 21. She’s heard it dozens of times before.

“Those are the youth that we’re really trying to do a better job of reaching out to,” said Wood. “I don’t know that they necessarily even realize that they are homeless.”

As of Sept. 30, 77 foster children were in placement through Centre County Children and Youth Services, said Assistant Director Julia Sprinkle.

On average, about 16 of those children turn 18 each year, making them ineligible for further foster care services, she said.

Additionally, children from other counties without programs like Stepping Stones end up seeking help in Centre County, said Leah Raker, who coordinates the Independent Living Program for Centre County Children and Youth.

The small, hard-to-reach population accumulates year after year, she added.

For many, the roadblocks start at the rental office, with landlords requiring cosigners for leases.

Agencies cannot co-sign for foster children, who usually don’t have the references or rental history that would exempt themselves from the co-signer requirement, Raker said.

“They may not have a relationship with their parents, and the parents might not be in a position to help,” Raker said. “They lack the natural support system that a lot of us have.”

Many, she added, have bad credit or no credit and don’t own a car.

“They start from square one, and they don’t really have a lot,” Raker added. “It’s hard to find affordable housing, and it’s even harder to find affordable housing on the public transportation routes.”

Finally, these youth often overestimate how far their wages stretch, Raker said.

“All these things couple up on them,” she added. “Some kids aren’t able to ask for help and don’t know where to turn, where to go.”

For help, Ripka turned to Section 8 Rental Assistance — she’s been on the waiting list since before her 2- year-old son, Anthony, was born.

Plagued by her own rough childhood, she’s determined to provide for her son, who’s living with his paternal grandparents in Clearfield until she can make a home for him.

Ripka herself was placed in foster care at age 16 months after her mother overdosed on drugs.

At age 5, she lost her adoptive mother to blood clots. By age 14, Ripka’s clashes with her father landed her in Stormbreak, a group home for girls in State College.

At 18, no longer eligible to stay at Stormbreak, she moved to Stepping Stones. But, yearning for life outside the system, she dropped out of the program after just two months.

Getting young adults like Ripka to stick with a housing program is a constant battle, Wood said.

“Most every youth I have who has turned 18 in the program goes through a real hard time around that 18th birthday,” she added. “They have been in care so long, and don’t want to feel like there’s that big brother telling them what they can and can’t do.”

Stepping Stones’ program to get youth on their feet includes an apartment where those working full time can pay $150 a month for rent, provided they deposit a matching $150 in a savings account.

Raker’s office has another room and board program for eligible, employed young people willing to regularly meet with independent living counselors.

That program provides the first month’s rent, security deposit, half of the next three month’s rent, first two months of certain utilities, and an allowance to buy furniture.

But Ripka opted for her idea of independence, seeking shelter on friends’ couches.

Off and on for about a year, she worked as a stripper at the Endzone, once earning more than $1,000 in a weekend, she said.

But instead of putting the money toward an apartment, she rented rooms at the Holiday Inn in Milesburg for $58 a night.

On her own for the first time, with no authority figure to tell her no, “that was my own way of doing what I wanted to do,” she said.

When she became pregnant, Ripka stopped stripping. After Anthony was born, she moved in with his father and then-fiance, Bradley Park, in a three-bedroom duplex in Unionville they rented for $535 a month.

But the situation didn’t last. The couple broke up in October 2009, leaving Ripka, once again, homeless.

With no money for a car, she had never bothered to get a driver’s license. Each time she moves, she finds a job within walking distance.

That’s led to a lengthy list of past employers that includes Ponderosa, Pizza Mia, Brother’s Pizza, Andy’s On the Go Cafe, and the Waffle Shop.

Three weeks ago, she started work as a sous chef, earning $9.75 per hour at the Elks Club in Boalsburg and opening what she hopes will be a career path.

“I’ve always loved food,” she said. “I’m learning hands on and getting paid when I work in different kitchens. It’s not something you can get in school.”

It’s the break she was looking for — a stable job that can help her reach her ultimate goal, “to get settled,” she said.

In the past year, she’s rotated between about five different residences, staying a few weeks with one friend, a few weeks with another.

Her only bills include a pre-paid cell phone and a monthly $55 rental fee for a storage shed in Philipsburg that contains furniture from her Unionville home.

But the backpack life hasn’t exactly been “a free stay on someone’s couch,” either, she added.

Moving from place to place, Ripka said she often pitches in for groceries, heat and electric expenses. “People ask for money for this, money for that,” she said.

In October, her home was a couch in a two-bedroom, one-bathroom apartment near the Hot Dog House occupied by two male friends and Harley, a chocolate lab.

Her makeshift bedroom was scattered with toddler toys, a blue play pen, and Fisher Price baby swing — reminders of her son, who she hopes to join in Clearfield, where rents are more reasonable.

She and her child’s father have reconciled, and they plan to get a place together. She says he can give her transportation to and from her Elks Club job.

The couple has already checked out a trailer in Curwensville and a two-bedroom Clearfield apartment that’s listed at $335 per month.

“Everybody I’ve known my entire life lives in Centre County. I’m just exhausted with this area,” Ripka said. “If I don’t relocate, I know I’m never going to make it.”

Lauren Boyer can be reached at 235-3910.