Noah

November 12th 2008

I glanced up and down the street, huddling up more closely. November was cold this year. Much worse than last year. We had snow this year.

It was a Sunday evening, and I'd pretty much given up for the night. I'd long since learnt that if it got past six pm most nights, you weren't getting any more money. I'd been given one pound fifty today. The cold tended to make people more generous- until you started getting closer to Christmas. Christmas sucked the good-will out of people. No one wanted to give you money near Christmas.

I'd kicked a snow-free space in front of the shop that I stayed in front of, Noah's cafe. I'd settled down in front of this particular shop after realising that one of the employees was willing to give me food on the sly, so long as Noah himself didn't notice.

However, the cafe wasn't open on Sunday so there was no chance of that now. In fact, the cafe hadn't been open in a few days. I was beginning to worry if it had closed down.

I glanced up and down the barren street. Burns had long since gone. Henry's wife had contacted him, telling him that she was planning on moving to another country with the kids. He'd accepted. Of course he had accepted. I hadn't seen him in three months.

That left just me and Max on the street. Max had sort of taken over role of protector, and he usually sat with me outside Noah's. However, I'd noticed recently that he'd started acting weird and looking rougher than usual. Then, he had some sort of fit in the middle of the street one day, and he'd been rushed off to hospital. I hadn't seen him since.

I hoped he was okay.

A couple other homeless people had parked themselves briefly on this street but quickly left. No one was willing to drop a forty year old man money when a thirteen year old girl was shivering in the corner. I had the street to myself.

I drew my knees up around my chin and wrapped my arms around them. I used to have a sleeping bag, but I had slept without it one night, then woken up to find it gone.

A man in a suit strode past, refusing to look at me. He knew I was here, and he knew I was cold. And I knew he had change in his pocket. But yet he walked past me, obliviously, as though I wan't even there.

I'd long given up on relying on other people's kindness to feed me. People just didn't have enough generosity in them to help.

Last winter had been particularly rough, and I'd gotten only a pound one week. That's when Max had told me that we could make more money together. I distracted people, he lifted money out of their pockets. I'd asked him about it once.

"Is it wrong?" I'd said. "We're taking other people's stuff."

"No," he said tightly, looking angry. "It's wrong of them not to help us. These people will go out and spend fifty quid on getting a new game, but they can't spare a pound for us? Fuck 'em. You can't rely on other people's kindness in this world. It don't exist."

And that was pretty much the end of that conversation.

So as I watched the important man in the important suit walk past, I didn't feel contempt like I used to. Max had taught me that relying on people got you nowhere.

I curled up, trying to conserve body warmth. My skin had thickened against the cold but that didn't mean that I didn't feel it.

I was just closing my eyes when I heard the crunch of snow as someone else walked past. I ignored it. I wasn't in the mood for begging, and I wasn't in the mood for other people's insults.

"Hey." a voice said uncertainly.

I opened my eyes, looking up at the person in front of me. It was a teenage boy, probably not too much older than myself. He had sharp features, and his fiery-tipped hair was pushed back over his head. He was quite scrawny, which was evident through an expensive-looking suit. His face looked familiar, but I couldn't remember where I recognised him from.