Off Her Joy (A We Happy Few Self-Insert)

Gifts For Those Who Don't Deserve Them

St. George's Holm wasn't much different from Maidenholm at all, other than the doctors lurking around every corner. Their vulture-like posture combined with the potbellies that each one seemed to wear was an unnerving and unpleasant lot to look at, but we had to continue on. Our first stop was the alleyway that a few councilmen had been working in for quite a while now. Some valve was busted or something, and it somehow managed to offset the motilene flowing through the pipes that snaked all over the islands. Or at least, that's what the Executive Committee claimed.

"You think we're almost there yet?" I glanced over at Victor with a slight frown. He shrugged, gently kicking a glass bottle down the street. The bottle rolled along the hard surface, making quiet clinking sounds.

"I dunno. The alleyway isn't far from the newspaper office, so if we can find that, then it's only a matter of minutes or so." He stopped beside a rubbish bin for a second, sticking his hand through the slot and beginning to rummage around in it.

"What the bloody hell are you doing? Don't dig in the trash, you'll get jabbed by one of those syringes." I crossed my arms over my chest and shook my head, raising an eyebrow and staring at him.

He squinted, staring down into the bin.

"Looking...for...something useful."

He continued to pick through the garbage, eventually pulling something out.

"Hey, look! An empty power cell."

"And?"

"Hey, this could be rather useful! Maybe we could take it to a motilene refilling station. Perhaps we could even use it for that torch you've got in your bag." Victor nodded to himself, putting the empty power cell in his knapsack. We continued walking again, Victor sticking his hands in his pockets.

"You know, you haven't changed much." He chuckled, elbowing me.

"What do you mean by that?" I raised an eyebrow again, squinting at him.

"You gave me shit for digging in the trash, the same way you used to when we were little."

"Well, it's for your safety. You don't know what's in there, especially not when the slot is barely big enough for you to fit your freakishly large hands in. And besides, it's gross. There could be so many dangerous things in there. Syringes, sharp rocks, pieces of broken glass and jagged metal. Anything."

He nodded, shrugging a bit. "Touché. But you know, I've always dug out of the trash. My parents weren't wealthy like yours. If I wanted something, I couldn't just ask for it. I had to go get it, by any means nessecary. So that meant constantly rooting through the bins out in front of our flat for odds and bobs and bits of things. With or without you around to scold me."

"Oh, right...sorry, things are still spotty." I sheepishly glanced away, feeling slightly bad for him. His family lived in the village, in a tiny flat with only two small bedrooms and one loo. The kitchen was so small that Victor and his parents ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner on the sofa instead of at the table. He would always steal my toys and eat my sweets because he never had them at home.

I began to wonder if maybe I had taken my childhood for granted, or hadn't been appreciative enough of the things I had. My parents had raised me to be humble, polite, and aware of how fortunate we were in our lives. Not many other children in primary had as many pretty dresses and expensive toys as I had. Not many kids got to eat cottage cheese and carrot cake and beef stroganoff like I did. And yet, I whined for hours about my dresses being tight and mum not wanting me to get them dirty, and I turned up my nose whenever cottage cheese was served. Worst of all, I had boasted and bragged about everything I had and everything I got to everyone else in class. I even teased a few fellow pupils for not having as much money. Yet, I never teased Victor. And for some reason, though I was a bit of a brat at times, he still stuck by my side like paste.