Cardboard to Tiara (On Hold)

Chapter 1-The Beginning

A/N: This is the first chapter and I'm so excited about it (jumping like a bunny right now). If you think it's great please vote! =D

Oh! Also, don't forget to comment! First person to comment, I will dedicate the next chapter to.

Enjoy! =)

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An icy wind enveloped me. I pulled my jean jacket tighter, hoping that will warm me.

Snowflakes danced in front of my eyes. Then they were carried off by the wind.

I needed to find shelter soon, if not, I would probably freeze to death.

I spotted an alley. Grabbing discarded newspaper in a trashcan, I began to stuff my jacket. It was the only thing that could keep me warm at the moment.

I inspected for a safe spot to spend the night. A place that was far enough from the street, so cops will not see me, or anyone else.

I found a hide out behind a green dumpster. The smell of rotting fish and vegetables battered my senses. For a moment I thought I was going to throw up, but I knew that I would have to stay here for the night. I had no choice but to get used to it.

I pulled myself into a ball against the grungy, cement wall, and laid my head onto my backpack.

I have been living on the streets for nearly two weeks now. I had to learn to steal food, lift toiletries, and I even learned how to make a fire. I am only fifteen, but my birthday will be in couple of days. Funny thing, I thought that the night I left my house, my mom would come looking for me. Did she? No, she did not, so much for motherly love.

My mom has always been negligent of me. I, basically, raised myself. She became a whole lot worst when Peter came into the picture. Who is Peter? He is my ass of a stepfather. My mom wanted me to call him Dad. Hell, no. I prefer to stick my hand in a blender before I call that scumbag “father”. All he cares about is getting wasted and banging my mom. Yep. Their room is right next to mine. Do I get lullabied to sleep? No, my music is moans and grunts.

I am so glad I left. I am better off anyways. See, out here in the world, I have a chance to make it. I have a chance to become a better person than my mom ever was. Maybe I could even become famous! So famous that wherever I go, people will be begging me for autographs. I could be all over television. Girls would want me as their role model. Maybe, just maybe, then my mom will love me. Well, so much for dreaming. I do not think my mom will ever love me. All she cares for is money and that assh***.

Another chilly gust penetrates my clothes. I pull out a t-shirt from my backpack, and cover myself with it.

Night comes. Around two to three in the morning, I begin to shake. I wake up, and began to rub my hands together and on my thighs. That is probably the only thing I miss about home. A warm bed.

I searched for an aluminum can in the dumpster, and scored a large one. I began to create a fire when I heard footsteps. They were heavy, probably belonging to a man. I quietly pulled out my army knife that I stole from a thrift shop.

The footsteps were getting closer. My heart began to beat harder. I try to recall if anybody might have followed me, and were waiting for the opportunity to take advantage of me.

Everything seemed to hold its breath, even the crickets nearby stopped chirping.

The footsteps stopped. I peeked around the dumpster. It was a heavy-set man wearing a long tan trench coat whizzing only a few feet from me. I held my breath.

After a minute, I heard a zipper sound, and he walked back onto the street.

I made a mental note not to step where he had relieved himself.

Once the fire was ablaze, I hovered over it to soak in the warmth. It seeped into my clothes, and skin, even my bones felt warm. Ah, the miracle of a fire. My stomach began to rumble. I had been rationing food for the past few days; the last time I ate was yesterday afternoon.

I pulled out a hot dog that I lifted from a street vendor and snapped it in the middle. I warmed up half up over the fire, and stored the rest.

The warm, yummy hot dog goodness slid down my throat, and settled into my belly. I gave a sigh of pleasure.

I needed to get to sleep soon, if not, I will not have enough strength for tomorrow.

I had plans of hopping a charter bus to the nearest biggest town. I wanted to get as far from this place as soon as possible.

I settled down on top of my backpack, near the fire, and slipped into a peaceful sleep.

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BEEP BEEP BEEP

I opened my eyes, suddenly. I knew that sound. It was…I checked around the dumpster. Oh sh**! It was the garbage truck.

I grabbed my backpack, shoved the t-shirt in, and threw it over my shoulder.

I ran down the alley.

“HEY!”

I rounded the corner and jumped a fence. I jogged onto the street sidewalk, and I casually blended into the crowd.

I giggled to myself. It was almost a scene from the Bourne Ultimatum, but with a brunette homeless girl. Matt Damon eat your heart out.

I walked toward the bus station, and jay walked across the street.

I nonchalantly walked past the buses, checking out their destinations.

I nearly jumped for joy when I saw “New York City” as a destination.

My plan was simple. I would step into the bus before anyone, even the driver, and wait in the bathroom. Of course, I would have to sit in the back, as far from the driver as possible. Do you think he might notice he did not see a scruffy teenage girl with an oversize pink backpack enter the bus? Yes, he would.

I sat on the bench, waiting for the perfect timing.

From the corner of my eye, I saw an elderly couple walking toward me. Crap.

“Hello there,” the lady said first.

I thought quickly, I could not have them around when I jump into the bus. I had to get rid of them.

I was silent, pretending to stare at a bush.

“Hello there,” the lady repeated. This time she stood in front of my staring direction.

“Pardonnez-moi?”

“Oh, honey.” She chuckled to herself. “You don’t understand a word that I’m saying,” she says with a heavy southern accent.

I looked at her confused, tilting my head to the side almost like a puppy.

I saw she believed me, and I nearly began to pat my back. God bless my French teacher!

“Sorry, sweetie, I guess we have to ask the bus time for New York City inside. Come on, Herbert,” she grabbed her husband’s hand and walked into the building.

New. York. City?

Oh, man…