Every Two Years (Completed)

1

The smell of horse shit is loud, but her nose has gotten used to as she swats a fly away from her ear. The young boy in front of her empties his pocket quickly as he smiles.

"Lots of tourists today. Lots of rich ones," he says.

She reaches out to pick up a shiny thin bracelet that hangs off of his fingers. It is silver and light, and sparkles in the sun as delicate charms hang off of it. She watches as a small butterfly swings from the clasp before stuffing it in her own pocket.

"No more jewelry," she says. "It can get you into too much trouble. Just wallets—"

"I know, I know. Grab their wallets, take the cash, and trash it." The boy pouts as he places the stuff back in his pockets one by one. "You say this over and over all the time."

"And yet, you still take the watches off of people's wrist every day. People care more about their jewelry and clothes than they do the bills they stuff in their wallet."

Nat swats another fly from her ear as she looks at the young boy. His name is Mikey. His hair is curly and light brown, bleached from spending days in the sun. His face looks radiant, with his thin cracked lips spreading from cheek to cheek, dimples deep set in them, but his brown eyes stay cold. There is only so much happiness you can have as you lay in a tent, fighting for food and a spot to sleep in the city.

"You say that, but you still took that bracelet and hid it for yourself. You dragon," he smiles.

Nat smiles at herself, as she looks up to watch someone walk her way. He is tall and thin but not like they were, who were hungry. He was born that way, willowy and graceful, with quick hands and a fast mind. He isn't from the streets like they are. He has a home to go back to. He just thrives on trouble.

He is handsome, the ‌young man who would have no problem having his pick of the litter. Nat especially likes his dark skin, like a deep chocolate, that makes his hazel eyes even brighter.

"This is the best you could do with your hair?" He asks her as he stops in front of them. "Hey little man."

Mikey stops smiling, not afraid to show how much he didn't like the man in front of him, but not enough to say anything.

"What's wrong with my hair, Jerome?" Nat asks.

She fights the urge to pat it down in front of him, not wanting to look insecure or bothered. Her hair is harder to deal with than most, with curls jumping all over the place. It is hard to take care of every day when all you had to use was water and a comb, and no mirror to see in. That morning, though, a lady who stopped by to give the homeless food was nice enough to help her comb it and braid it in cornrows.

The woman took a picture on her phone, and even though you could see the brown roots showing, the blues and greens of her dyed hair were interwoven beautifully, even if the rows weren't evenly parted.

"We're trying to con men out of breakfast and money. You may be beautiful, but you still have to play the part," he says.

Jerome turns her around, and though she wants to fight, she just stands there and lets him. She could feel him take out the bottom half of each braid and then fluff up the back of her hair.

He finishes and turns her around, holding up his phone for her to look at herself in the camera. The top half of her head is still braided, but the bottom half is laid to her shoulders with a braid out. They aren't perfect curls since they weren't braided that long, but she still looks nice.

Her face is clean and her bronzed tarnish earrings don't stand out too badly, so it will do for their plan.

"Alright." Jerome puts his phone away and grabs her wrist, pulling her away and not even giving Mikey a second look. "I staked out this tourist. He's been here for a couple of days and hasn't stopped spending money yet."