Orphaned (Justin Bieber)

Chapter 2

Chapter Two
Song for this chapter: Let it Be by Labrinth

Maeve's POV

Poking at the inside of my cheek with my tongue softly, I inwardly mapped out a plan. Come in on the dark skinned boy's side, then slip away past the white boy with the large black sun glasses and the black and red snap back cap.

His attire was rather off, it really did not fit his physical appearance. He had saggy black pants that were nearly around his knees, and a long grey shirt that was a size too big for his body type. He was dressing like the black boys I often see do, with the too big pants and shirt and large rimmed sun glasses and those colorful caps thrown backwards. Does he not realize that he is white? Or has he just not been informed of that yet...?

White Boy pulled out his black leather wallet from his back pocket, then began to rummage through it. The leather flushed outwards, signaling to me that it was loaded.

Time to get to work.

I cautiously slipped forwards, zig zagging skillfully in between bodies. Some people shot me glares, mumbling under their breath, while others ignored me completely. Not that it bothers me in the least, really. Shouldering my way through the crowded street, I'm finally find the right starting position.

The boys payed me no heed, obviously oblivious to my very existence.

Might as well be invisible, for god's sake.

Shaking my self off, I resumed my prior mission and slipped closer to the table where White Boy had placed his wallet. Bad move on his end.

Smirking, I leapt forwards, going into a run as I approached the table. Hastily reaching over, I wrapped my fingers around the smooth, cool leather which was rather heavy. Jack pot! In the blink of an eye, my legs were carrying me away from the table.

The next thing I heard was the sound of chairs screeching loudly against the ground. Footsteps and shouts of profanities echoed from behind me. "Hey," a male voice shouted, voice laced and ragged with anger. "The fuck you think your doing?" He barked. The footsteps became louder.

Shit.

The hell was going on? No ones ever run after me, let alone been able to catch up.

Not risking a glance back, I hastily picked up the pace, darting forwards and taking sharp turns down streets in hopes of loosing the men charging after me. I shoved past people roughly while slipping onto a crowded boardwalk. Angry voices called out to me, but one of them stood out. White Boys got a pretty good set of legs on him, eh?

Huffing out a sharp breath, I forced myself to speed up. No way I'm getting caught. I somehow managed to slip the wallet into my pocket while still running at full speed. Sweat began to form at my hair line.

I hate sweating, but seem to do it rather often. Stumbling a few times, but quickly catching myself, I flew between and past people, knocking thing from their hands, accidentally. Taking another turn, I found myself darting across the white sanded beach. Suddenly, I lost my footing.

Fuck, no.

A yelp fled my lips as I rolled through the sand, eyes clamped tightly shut, hands fisted, drawn onto my chest.

Abruptly coming to a halt, I found myself underneath the toned, sweaty body of White Boy. Blinking rapidly, I stared up at him through slightly squinted eyes. Was this really happening? It couldn't be. This can't be fucking real. I don't get caught. Never have been caught. This had to be some sort of nightmare.

But it's not. It was real. I had been caught. Like they say, 'theres a first for everything'. That should've earn a spot in the record book...

White Boy puffed out a breath of air, resting his hands on either side of my head. He returned my glare in a mocking manner before a small smirk began to dance at the ends of his light pink lips. "What do you think your doing, stealing something that belongs to me, baby girl?"

I kept the stoney glare drawn across my face for another second before exhaling loudly through my nose and shrugging innocently. "I don't know," I glanced down at his attire once more before lifting my gaze to meet his. "What were you thinking dressing like a gangster black boy?" I challenged boldly.

He growled lowly under his breath. "Give it back." He ordered, sitting up to straddle my waist.

"And what if I don't want to?" I shot back.

"I wasn't asking, sweet heart," he cooed falsely as if talking to a six year old. Rolling my eyes, I stayed put beneath him, not reaching to retrieve the wallet. Then an idea sprang up in my head.

"Fine, you can have your damn wallet," I grumbled, reaching slowly into my back pocket before fumbling with it for a moment, then pulled it out. He rudely snatched it from my hand then got off of me.

"Now, get going." White Boy demanded.

Ignoring his request, I hopped to my foot to stand before him. "What's your name?" I questioned him curiously, a small smirk playing at the ends of my lips as he screwed his face up in confusion.

"Justin..." he said slowly.

"Maeve. Well, it was a pleasure running into ya, but... I gotta get going. Bye, Justin." I chuckled before hastily striding away with a heavy pocket full of money.