Rain and Ash: A Tantalizing Spy Story (COMPLETED)

Part 1: Joining

"Hey pretty thing...," a drunk homeless man croaked. I hurriedly walked through the dim alleyway searching for the plywood door at the end. A light hummed above the rotten wood frame, but it was still hard for me to see the buzzer. I clicked it twice and stood shivering in the light rain. I only had on a ripped shirt and boxer shorts, so I was freezing. Finally, the door swung open, revealing a tall slim boy with dark brown hair. His piercing green eyes scanned over me, which made me wrap my arms around my chest. He was attractive, but his brooding expression set me on edge.

"Name and age?" He asked. I told him that my name was Ash and that I was almost eighteen. All he did was nod and open the door wide enough for me to step past him. I quickly jumped inside to escape the alley, and when I finally got a bearing, I took it all in. The blue walls and white tile floor reminded me of the hospital where my mom died. The unnamed boy pointed at another door and nodded for me to head inside. I opened the heavy thing, and an old woman welcomed me into the room.

"Oh dear, you look like a cat that fell in a rain barrel. Just look at this shirt! A boy shouldn't have long hair like this either." I stood in shock as this stranger scolded me for my appearance. Her metaphors and motherly tone were unexpected. She continued to poke and prod and remove what was left of my top.

"You're a girl! Why, all that dirt and grime made me think you were a boy, ahem. Good thing I have some undergarments from the last one. Excuse me darling." The old woman slowly crept towards a glass cabinet and removed a pile of clothes. She told me to take a shower in the next room and come back for a check-up. I entered the metallic bathroom and stood frozen by the door. On the wall hung an old cartoon strip. Tom and Jerry. Not sure who the comic referred to, I stepped into the cold shower. The dirt and water swirled down the drain as I removed every trace of the past few months on the streets. I dissociated as I lathered shampoo into my hair. My skin tingled and turned pink from all the scrubbing, but it took me a while to even notice. When I stepped out, I felt like a different person completely. That is until I looked in the mirror. I saw a ghost of my past staring back at me. I was not that happy girl anymore. When mom died, my aunt Darnel took me in briefly, but she kicked me out after gambling away all the money my mom left for me. Because I had no other family left, I tried getting a job during the day while sleeping in public restrooms at night. The only problem was that I needed to be eighteen to work anywhere, so I resorted to begging on the streets. Eventually, I made some friends with other homeless teens, but they all got drawn into the drugs and gangs of New York City. I never did any of that stuff, but I still hung out with these people because they would give me a place to stay every once in a while. Because I associated with them, I was often harassed and chased by pimps and drug dealers when my friends didn't pay whoever they owed. That is when I met Mr. Silverman, the man that gave me a little card and told me to come to this place. He approached me when I was hiding out from another deal-gone-bad on behalf of my friend Patrice. I was sitting behind a tree on a park bench. Mr. Silverman walked up and asked me if I was interested in joining his organization dedicated to helping the youth, and he told me there would be a bed and food. Before I answered, he noticed my ripped copy of Of Mice and Men and he questioned me on my studies. I talked about a literary project I worked on last year before mom was diagnosed with cancer and all shit hit the fan. I felt like this middle-aged man actually saw me as a person, and he was honestly my last chance at survival. I could not make it to my eighteenth birthday at this rate. My stomach growled, and he gave me a sympathetic look. That is when I said I was interested, and he told me to come to this specific door in a random alleyway. I realize it was dangerous, but at this point I was desperate.

Knock Knock. I snapped out of my wallowing to put on my clothes. Luckily the black tank top and cotton shorts fit. The old woman barged in just as I slipped the socks on.