Clandestine Crew

Chapter Two

            That night I spent lying on the grimy bed in the cell, my eyes threatening to close. I didn’t want to sleep though with my mind racing. I had to get back. I had to get out of here.

            I wondered if they called my previous foster family. I wish they didn’t because they would feel obligated to help me. Bailing me out would just take money they didn’t have and I didn’t want their charity anymore. I wanted to be free from that awful house without looking back. It was the most terrible five months of my life, living there. Millions of kids took over the rooms and nothing was private anymore. Once the parents began to trust me, the minute they turned their backs I left without turning around. Although, I did have to make sacrifices and leave a few things behind.

            I looked down at my ankle, which was beginning to have a pulse. Rolling up the pant leg on the jumpsuit, I began to examine my ankle. I immediately grimaced in disgust. It had already become swollen, my ankle looking plump and bloated. Colors of blue, black, purple, and yellow were staining the skin. I needed a nurse.

            I sat up, throwing my legs over the little bed. Balancing on one foot and hopping over the door, I saw one person standing in the hallway.

            “Hey you,” I called out, hoping to get the person’s attention. He turned to face me, and then turned back around like nothing happened.

            “Hey,” I called out louder. He ignored me, so I kept calling until he sighed, and finally came over.

            “What is it?” he spat, looking annoyed even in the darkness.

            “I need a doctor or a nurse or something,” I said, pointing to my damaged foot. The person followed my gaze down to my foot and wrinkled his nose in disgust.

            “Deal with it yourself,” he said, before turning to go back to where he first was.

            “Wait!” I called.

            He turned, “What?”

            “I know there’s always a nurse working. Can you please just take me to one me before my foot falls off?”

            He sighed, and came back over here, this time getting closer and grabbing the color of my jumpsuit. His muscles flexed as he grasped on tighter, the edge of the collar digging in to my neck.

            “Listen here,” he started, his nostrils flaring with rage, “You’ve caused this town a lot of heartache, stealing from innocent people. The shop owners here live off a minimum wage salary and you stealing even a penny from them can potentially hurt their business. I know someone who has to close down because you stole her shop’s rent money for the next seven months and she doesn’t know how she’s going to get that money back.”

            I smiled, learning early on not to feel bad for anyone but yourself.

            “That is a shame,” I agreed, “I don’t know how she’s going to get that money back either, considering I spent it all within two days.”

            The patrol worker grimaced, and threw me down on to the cement. Pushing people’s buttons was a skill I had learned to acquire over the years. Sometimes it came in handy, but tonight my ankle was still burning. I’d have to wait until morning now.

            Standing up, still balanced on my only good foot, I climbed in to the bed to settle in for the night. I was not in good shape. After what seemed like hours, my eyes closed and I fell asleep.