Beatrice Prior July 8th, 2005
May be I shouldn't have gone into the throng of people alone. Especially a large throng of people in New York.
I hold onto my wallet securely, and cross my fingers that I don't run into my parents.
Thank God I wore comfortable running shoes, shorts, and a t-shirt instead of a fancy dress, or I'd be screwed.
I have to sprint if I want to get there before them. My calves ached like hell, though I kept my spirit up. I was going to see Wicked!
I feel like I should thank my PE teacher for making me run; if it were my choice I'd sit and sing the whole time.
When I was younger, my PE teacher would tell us to run several laps, and I would look like I was running, and lie so I didn't have to run as much.
"Yes Ms.Stanley, I ran 5 laps" I would say, even though I only did three.
But she caught me. Eventually.
But I couldn't be more thankful.
Until I slammed into someone, making me fall on my face and drop my wallet on the ground.
"Sorry" he said, "I'm sorry let me help you"
It was a boy, may be two years older than me.
I shake my head, "It's fine"
He picked up my wallet, and though he held it out to me, before I could take it, he sprinted off, in another direction.
"Hey!" I yelled, running after him "That's mine!"
The music blaring in my ear wasn't helping; and the boy sprinted farther and farther. And though I yelled to many strangers to catch him, no one even glanced in my direction.
Tobias Eaton, July 8th, 2015
"Stop!" I heard, "That's mine!"
I jerked my head to the side, and stopped in my tracks; a little girl chasing after a man, screaming at him.
I could let him pass me. I could, I really could.
I could sit back and do nothing.
But I'm not the person.
I pretend like I'm going to let him pass, but I instead grab his jacket, and his shirt, holding him by the hair.
"Give the young lady her wallet"
The girl comes a few seconds later, her blue-grey eyes staring into mine. Her blonde hair flows past her shoulders, and her eyes, trained on his.
He holds it out and draws his eyebrows to the center of his forehead and throws it.
Here's the thing: he throws it into the drains.
"No!" She screams.
But it's already done. It's down the drains; gone.
Probably soaked by now.
She scrambles to the drains, and the man runs away. He doesn't stop running.
I would go after him; but there's no point, instead I return to the girl.
I only see the back of her head, her blonde hair mussed from the run.
I expect her to be crying. But she's not. She's angry.
I can see it in her eyes; her features drawn tightly together.
"Better get out of the street before you're pancaked" I chuckle, trying to get a laugh out of her.
She whips her head back at me, her eyes staring daggers at me, "Shut Up"
I hold up my arms in defense.
Definitely not what I was expecting.
She bites her lip, "Sorry"
"It's fine" I say automatically, "You okay?"
"I'm fine" she barks, "I just lost over $100 worth of my money"
"I'm sorry" I scratch the back of my neck. There is no way I can help her, even though I wished I could.
"It's-" she looks like she's about to say something rude, but she calms her self, and her clenched fists unravel, "It's fine. I'm sorry. I overreacted"
"I would react the same way. Don't be"
I held out my hand to her, "Tobias" I say. She stares and my hand, but accepts it. Why is it so small and warm in my hand?
She smiles, and I pull her up. She's light.
"Beatrice. I go by Tris"
When she stands on both her feet firmly, I ask her, "Why are you alone?"
I cross my arms.
"Why are you?" She defends.
"I asked first"
"Fine" she admits, "My family ditched me to see a musical and didn't take me with them. I wanted to see it for myself"
I chew on my bottom lip. I guess it's my turn.
"I'm a runaway"
"You're running away?" I nod.
"Why?" She asks.
I'm afraid she would ask the question, "It's not important. I told why I was alone"
She rolls her eyes, "Where's Wicked performing at?"
"Let's go to the information center" I suggest, "But you don't have your money"
"I still have to get back to my family"
"Don't you know the name of your hotel?"
She blushes, "No"
"Information center it is"
YOU ARE READING
Lost
FanfictionBeatrice Prior: Age: 12 Gender: Female Status: Lost Child Tobias Eaton: Age: 13 Gender: Male Status: Runaway Child If found, please call 911 Beatrice Prior lost in the middle of New York City after losing her wallet to a drain is a little distrustfu...