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Ashton

Alright, let the story begin!

Ashton could not have been better suited for her name.

Her brown hair was disheveled, but not necessarily memorably so. Her skin was pale, but not completely white.

But she was known for her eyes. Strikingly gray on her pretty but street-hardened, dirt-streaked face, it was usually the feature that people remembered.

At that moment, these eyes, accompanied with the rest of Ashton, were busy distracting a shop owner from what her hands were doing.

Namely, stealing a loaf of bread from the shelf nearby.

By the time the man behind the counter realized what was going on, it was kind of late, seeing that Ashton had already left the store.

"Thief!" He yelled, heard by most of the town. "THIEF!"

A group of six boys burst from the shadows nearby. This didn't surprise or alarm Ashton. It was her group.

"Little help, maybe?" Ashton panted to them. She didn't like sprinting for her life. Especially when her pursuer held a knife.

"My pleasure." said a gallant voice from behind her. She rolled her eyes (Jacob. What a pain) and tossed the loaf over her shoulder. She heard the sound when the loaf connected with him.

The next sound she heard was the roar of outrage from the shopkeeper. She took this as a signal to run faster.

Meet Ashton.

As she ran, she thought about how nice it would be if she didn't have to steal for food.

If her parents were still alive. And, of course, what would have happened if they hadn't both been alcoholics.

The loaf flew through the air and connected with her face, disrupting her thoughts like a reflection on water. Still there, but less than before.

Actually, it was a little more like when a loaf of bread hits your face.

Ashton tossed the loaf forward to Luke. He stumbled forward a little when he caught it, but still kept running. If anything, he was running faster now.

This game of hot potato kept on going until the seven kid thieves got home.

"Home"? Maybe that wasn't the right word. If you call an alleyway lean-to with a small, broken refrigerator and a dumpster cover as a roof "home", then maybe that was the right word.

If not, the correct word has a bit of negative connotation.

Because the little shelter in this alley might be referred to as more of a shack.

Ashton had Alek hide the loaf near the back of the shelter, in the less dirty area reserved for food. Alek readily did so, although not before ripping a chunk of bread off to stuff in his mouth. Ashton didn't blame him. They hadn't eaten for two days.

Soon, all five of the other boys were practically stacked up trying to get a piece first. Ashton strolled casually by, ripped a generous portion off thee loaf, and broke it into enough pieces for all of them. Then, she handed them out.

"Stop rushing. Here, you're all getting the same amount of food. No matter who's first. You waited for two days. I think you're strong enough to last for two more minutes."

She bit a piece off a piece of the bread. The boys followed her lead. They never ate before Ashton did. She didn't seem to notice. She seemed to notice everything, except her own personal strengths. To find herself, she was a street thief, nothing more.

But then again, nothing less, either.