The wind blew icy on the back of my neck. The hair cut I got last summer never did fit winter, but it's growing out. My back ached from the hard wood of this park bench. The sound of the world invaded again, already. Sadly enough it proved I was awake. I slept with my backpack between my legs, that's sort of must-do when you live in New York, without any real home. This bench was starting to get comfy. WELL, that was a lie, but it was painted a nice burgundy color and the lilacs next to it always smelt nice.
The flowers began to be drown out by the smell of hot dogs... Yuck. It's only 7:24 am, or so my green, aged, Burger King, Rugrats watch said. I've had that watch so long that I think it runs behind just because it knows me too well and doesn't like me as much as I do. I sighed as I gave up $2.18 in my precious funds for coffee from a street-vender man who scoffed me as I woke up and snorted when I was so shaky, because of my low blood sugar, that I spilled my coffee upon the scruffy blue and black jacket. Now I really have to find a way to wash it, but with the only source of income being walking around the streets at night and really early looking for money, and the occasional pick pocketing off a college drunk, it gets difficult to pay for a washing machine. Plus, when you only have three outfits, it's only pointless until something like this happens.
No, my living isn't the most modest, great, or comfortable, but it's better than the foster homes I've been sent to. At least now I don't have someone taking things out on me. Not things like anger, frustration, sexual tension, or unrequited love. It's just me against the world. No one is too easy and I can't say I'm any easier back. Well, towards grownups anyways. I may be 16 but I have a soft spot for puppies and kids. If they weren't so darn cute, it wouldn't be a problem, but innocence and ignorance are bliss.
I walk about half a block to the library. Well, I used to be a reader, but the girls that read and are really quiet are dangerous, right? Plus, I have more important things to do. I head to the library bath room and take my brush out of my dingy bag and begin to brush out the knots. My hair was cropped really short in the back and I have the front grow, and my bangs are getting into my eyes, all different lengths. I clean my face off with the foamy soap and get ready to look for cash. You don't really see how pale you look, and how big the dark circles are until you wash your face, huh? This is how I start my mornings at least 4 days a week. Thankfully, there are public restrooms like libraries that aren't disgusting. I also go to several banks and even a coffee shop if it's so busy that no one’s paying attention. If you space it out, no one is paying attention. Twice a week I take a bath. Well, sort of. I sort of just rub the dirt off with a wet paper towel.
But as the noise outside the restroom door gets loud, I realize I have to go. I quickly gather my things, smiling at myself in the mirror, mostly because my hair, with its dish-water blondness doesn't look bad, but also because if I didn't smile I'd surely cry.
I leave and can't help but stare at this small, black haired girl. She looks so adorable in her plaid skirt and her eyes so big, obviously so into the book that she couldn't possibly look away. I saw a scar on her cheek and on the other side, a lovely scrape. She's been fighting and looks a little hungry. She's here every time I am. That is a lot like me at her age.
Against my best judgment I sit beside her before leaving. After all, I could wait a few seconds to stare at concrete.
"Hello, what book are you reading?" I inquired.
"The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe." She briefly murmured.
"That's good, if you want I could suggest some fantasy, I read allot too. Or used to anyways" I trailed off.
She waited a few second, obviously getting to an interesting point, and then looking me dead in the eye with a smile. "I've probably already read it."
"Fair enough. Want a lollipop?" I said, holding the blue treasure out to her.
She took it without hesitation, although after coveting it and putting it in her mouth, almost drooling, she stared at me. She stared at me with almost broken eyes and she had tears welling up.
"What's wrong? Do you have a cavity? Does your tooth hurt?" I asked concerned.
"No. I was told by Mrs. Sandra to never take things from strangers because they might be trying to hurt me. If she finds out that I got this she'll...uhm..."
"She'll what?"
"I'm not supposed to say." She shed a tear and quickly started packing up her things.
"Is that how you got your scrapes? And that scar?" I said trying to get contact with her eyes.
"I must go now, but I will be back later this week. Buh-bye.' She said fast, and frantic.
She almost forgot her book, and I ran back to the bathroom begining to want to vomit. I knew her situation far too well.
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Should I continue this series? Comment please.
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A Warm Gun is the Happiest I've Been
Teen FictionSelena has a past she absolutely hates, is in a city that she likes just as much and no one and no where to be with nothing to her name. Can she survive, or prosper on New York's streets? The even better question, omnipresent, and grueling, what wil...
