Unidentified

1

"Mother of a Shakespearean Bullfrog! That boy stole my bubble tea! Get him!" The crossing guard gawped at me from beneath his cap, a bit of drool clinging to the corner of his wrinkled mouth.

"Uhhh... sorry Miss, but if you hadn't noticed, I'm a little old to be chasing after nimble boys. And it's only bubble tea, after all. Stop making such a fuss. You're disturbing the peace!" Now it was my turn to gawp (with indignation of course).

"Peace!? You dare to speak of PEACE? That little bugger STOLE MY BUBBLE TEA! Where is your honor, oh Guard of the Crosswalk? Where is your desire to aid the pedestrians of this fine city? But of course, if you are too... old...to redeem my honor I will just have to find someone else." I spun around to face the woman behind me who happened to be heavily pregnant and clutching a young girl by the hand. Her beetle eyes stared daggers at me from underneath caterpillar eyebrows.

"Must I do everything myself?" I cried.

"Well, it is the 21st century, girl." The crossing guard muttered.  With a groan, I turned my back on him and continued to walk down the sidewalk, throwing death glares at anyone who looked my way. By now, I had no hope of catching up to the thief. I could no longer see him through the thickening crowd.

I didn't even have any money left for another bubble tea- or a subway pass, Godammit! My day was officially ruined.  I mean, I would have run after that boy, I assured myself. I was just physically unable. Sprained wrist and all. Actually, now that I thought about it, the fact that my wrist was sprained did not, in any way, impair my ability to run. Now I felt like an idiot.

And then I tripped over my own two feet.

My bandaged wrist hit the pavement with a sickening crack, and I let out a screech that would have put a banshee to shame.

"Son of a maggot's mongrel!" I wailed. Sharp pebbles dug into my side as I rolled onto my back, clutching my wounded wrist. Why did I always have to be so clumsy?! An exasperated sigh escaped from my lips as I rested my head against the rough concrete. 10 seconds passed, and I decided that if I was ever going to go anywhere, ever, I had better get up and check out my injury. I cautiously took off the splint and started to poke and prod the swollen lump of flesh that had, about two minutes ago, been my wrist. Yikes, I might have shattered it this time. The universe really hated me, it seemed. Brushing my tangled brown hair out of my eyes, I slowly picked myself up. Shit. Across the street I spotted two girls (who happened to be in my class) pointing and giggling in my direction.

"Don't you have anything better to do? I think I might have just shattered my wrist- AGAIN!- and you two are sniggering like some loathsome old toads!" Wincing, I mentally slapped my forehead. Loathsome old toads? What in the devil's name was I thinking?! No wonder I didn't have any friends. Whatever, I just needed to get the hell out of there. Without a second glance in their direction, I sprinted down the street and ducked into the nearest café that I could find.

It was pretty crowded. People were typing away at their computers, seemingly deep in thought. Others were half reading a book, half staring out the window at the street. There was a group of friends sipping hot drinks and laughing at who knew what. I slipped into an armchair (which was an unfortunate prune color) and picked up a newspaper off the nearest coffee table. Holding it up so that it covered my face, I peeked around the sides. Good, I had lost them. My classmates were nowhere to be seen. I slumped back against the soft cushions. My wrist felt like it had been pummeled by an army of mini half-psychotic chainsaws. By now the adrenaline was starting to wear off, and I felt a little dizzy as I re-fastened my splint.

"Interesting reading material," a gravelly voice snickered from my right.

"Excuse me?" I muttered, slightly offended, " I happen to quite enjoy reading about-" I looked down at the newspaper resting innocently on my lap. "Oh."

" I had no idea that angsty teens enjoyed reading articles about the benefits of a rubber ducky collection. I would have thought the tabloids to be more your speed" the man gave me a pointed look, his eyes crinkling up at the edges.

" Well, if you must know, I wasn't actually reading it. I was hiding. I don't care about rubber ducks, and I certainly don't read tabloids! Why were you even looking at my newspaper, anyway?" I snapped back. The old man gave a satisfied chuckle and held out his hand.

"My name is Dr. Brucella-Stokes, and I'm very pleased to meet you. May I buy you a coffee?" I reached out and tentatively grasped his outstretched hand. I gave it a good, hard shake and stared him right in eye.

" I don't drink coffee. But you can get me a green tea, instead." What was the harm? I was never going to see him again anyway. And all that running had made me pretty thirsty.

Although his back was ramrod straight, and his spotted, wrinkled hands didn't shake, he still had a sort of desolate demeanor. He looked like he could use the company, and I didn't particularly want to start the long walk home at the moment. The ugly prune chair was just too damn comfortable.

"Brilliant. Do you take anything with it? Sugar or milk perhaps?"

" Honey, actually"

" A teaspoon and a half?"

" How did you know?" The man just shrugged at me, and got up.

"You and I have a lot to discuss" He murmured, pushing his thick framed glasses up onto his head. My eyes narrowed as he sauntered off to stand in line. It was in that moment I realized that he hadn't actually answered any of my questions.