But there was something about Charlotte. She wasn't like the most prettiest girl in the world, but anyone with heart could tell that she had a beautiful heart. A heart that could easily be broken. A heart that needed to be protected.
--
Her pare...
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I pull the varsity jacket closer around me.
How could I have been that careless?
Of course Sam would be there.
I pushed my thoughts out of my head. I wasn't going back there anytime soon. Or at all.
I walked past a McDonalds building. I would do anything for some fries.
But I couldn't. It was that simple. I could get a job, but-
Who would hire me? A dirty, homeless teen, who barely knows how to write a resume. Plus, it would leave some sort of record indicating I had been there and stayed in that area.
The New York lights lit the night, making it so I could find myself around the curvy sidewalks.
Bing.
I'd go to him. I needed the money.
I had made a few bucks off him a few weeks ago, but it was all gone, of course.
I quickened my pace, speed walking through a maze of people.
Spotting a few people sporting fashionable clothes made me pinch myself in envy. How I wished I had my old life back. Forever. Friends, clothes, popularity, parents, stuff.
And here I was, going to an ex-con for some quick money.
I stopped in front of a dusky alleyway, dimmed with a flickering light overhead. A small hut was stationed, hidden in a corner. I took a deep breath and walked in.
"Oh, ho! Well, if it isn't Miss. Barlowe! Welcome back!" a potbellied man chuckled, rising to his feet.
I groaned inwardly. "Bing, give me a job."
Bing laughed. "Thought you had parents who were loaded!"
Bing knew my history. He's known my secrets and taunted me whenever he could. Actually, my parents were the ones who had put him in jail.
He walked over to a file cabinet and started to rummage through white powder.
He tossed me a packet. "241 MacWeather Drive, 16 year old boy, 50 bucks cash."
I rolled my eyes. It was worth the risk but a 16 year old teen using drugs?
I snatched the packet out of his hand and put out my hand for the money.
"Nope! Deliver it first!" Bing pushed my hand away. He had teens do the dirty work for him. He had already spent a few years in prison and didn't want to risk it again. And I was one of those teens.
Bing handed me a few dollars for a taxi and pushed me out of the bungalow.
I stumbled out the door, hissing at the cold air. I puffed, savoring my breath, watching the clouds of fog escaping my mouth.
