Amy
Everyone has a nose. At least, I sure hope they do. And noses are used for smelling. There are good scents. There are bad scents.
In our city, there’s a bad smell. That’s the first thing you’d notice once you set foot here. If you live there like I do though, it becomes a part of everyday life and the smell isn’t bad anymore. You’d barely notice it.
Our city’s pretty nice. Well I mean once you get past the polluted air, the polluted streets, the corruption, the crimes, the horrible smell, the violence… Who am I kidding? Just forget what I said about our city being nice.
They say New York was once a nice place. I can’t really picture it. They said clear blue skies and fluffy white clouds. We can’t even see the sky in our city. The skyscrapers are huge, living up to their name: Sky. Scraper. The sky here is covered by a low-hanging, grayish-orangish smog that always seems to be there. I can’t remember a time when it wasn’t there. They say the buildings shone silver. Now they’re a dull gray, and rusty looking. Shattered windows.
But whatever. This place is special. It’s home. My home. And if you say anything against it… well, don’t.
It’s pretty crowded around these parts. I don’t know what it’s like in other places, but our city is crowded, and when I say crowded, I mean crowded. I’ve never seen any other city, but I know it’s really overpopulated here. Lots of homeless people. And it’s kinda hard to get from one place to another on the streets without being mugged.
People are disappearing though. It’s like they’re disappearing in the middle of the night, into thin air. It’s not possible. But it’s happening anyway. It’s noticeable too. With our monstrous population, it’d seem like you wouldn’t notice if a few people disappeared. But it’s more than just a few people. Dozens, hundreds, maybe even thousands of people, gone. Not a trace of what happened.
We don’t know what’s happened to the people who have disappeared. I don’t know if we’ll ever find out. Might as well assume they’re dead. Why get your hopes up about what might’ve happened?
It’s a little unnerving.
A little voice in the back of my mind keeps nagging me, saying that maybe he’s still alive, but I tell it to shut up. My father disappeared just last week. Said goodnight to him that night. The next morning, gone. No note. Nothing missing. Just gone.
It’s horrible to think he’s dead. But if I thought that he was alive, and it turned out he really was dead, that’d be worse. Raise your hopes, only to have them crushed.
A knock on the door to our small, shabby, broken-down apartment startles me out of my thoughts about recent events.
Mom is out at her “job” earning as much money as she can (which isn’t a lot) to single-handedly support herself, me, and my younger brother. She’s basically paid to break up fights on the streets and make sure people don’t kill each other. It’d look like we’d be rich, considering the number of fights each day, but she’s only paid a measly amount, barely enough for us to get by. My brother, Tom, is asleep, so I go get the door.
I open the door to see my friend, Liz Klein. We met on the streets one day when we were nine. I had gotten lost on a street I didn’t know and she’d helped me and we’d basically become friends after that.
Her bright smile is almost blinding. I swear she is the most energetic person anyone would ever meet. “You ready?” she says, her flame red curls bouncing up and down, green eyes shining.
I’d almost forgot. Today we were going to explore the scrap yard. With all these things happening, people disappearing, working to survive, I’d forgotten, even though we had this planned a week or two before. I heard about far-off places where girls do things to their hair and nails. I’m sure glad I don’t live there. Sounds like torture. Poor girls. They should just go explore a scrap yard like normal people do. Like Liz and me.
We almost made it to the scrap yard. We had avoided the streets for as long as possible by climbing the emergency ladder on the side of the building I live in. From there, we just jumped from roof to roof. It’s not that hard. The buildings are so close together, there’s hardly any room for a group of five people to walk side-by-side in between them. There’s still room to fall to our deaths if we’re not careful. The trick is to take a running start. Look then leap.
About a block before the yard, the buildings stop, so Liz and I climb down another ladder to get to the dark gray slabs of sidewalk. That’s when we run into them. Ian Randall, Lucas Burns, and Heather Gardner. The trio our age that’s prone to getting into fifty fights a day. And harassing other people. Just our luck. I don’t understand how three fifteen-year-olds can cause so much trouble. Liz and I might do some not-so-good things but at least we’re careful not to get caught.
We try to avoid them but Ian’s voice rings out.
“Well, look who it is, Amy Tusk and Liz Klein. How lucky we ran into you. We were just heading to the scrap yard. Ya know, see what things we might pick up.” He winks at me.
I shudder.
Looks like we won’t be going there today. Not with them.
“Aww, come on y’all. We don’t bite,” Heather whines in her thick Brooklyn accent, flipping her jet-black hair back.
We’re walking away from them when Lucas speaks.
“Having a little fun with us won’t hurt you. You’ve become so on edge since your dad disappeared.”
I can’t help it. I whirl around and glare at him. His steel colored eyes stare back, not intimidated by me. “Don’t you say anything about him. Ever. Again.” I manage to get out through gritted teeth. He smirks, knowing he’s gotten under my skin.
“Oh, Lucas is just joking around. We all are,” Ian flashes a fake smile, while running his hand through his white-blonde hair. He walks over to us. “C’mon. We know you guys were going to the scrap yard anyway. Why else would you be here?” Before I register what happens, his cold hand is tightly gripping my wrist. “Why cancel plans?” Ian raises an eyebrow, ice-blue eyes penetrating into mine and I can’t help but look away, even though he doesn’t scare me. Can’t say the same for Liz though. She hasn’t said a word since we encountered them.
I wrench my arm free and push him backwards. He looks shocked. If looks could kill, I’d have killed him multiple times by now. “Just leave us alone. Stay away from us. And our homes,” I say as threateningly as I can. “Liz, we’re leaving.” I take her arm and lead her away.
Once we’re in my apartment, I let myself relax. “Sorry we didn’t get to explore the yard like you wanted.”
“That’s okay,” Liz says shakily. “I’d rather not go than run into them again. Sorry I didn’t say anything to help ya. They’re… well, you know. I should be going. See ya, Amy.”
When she’s gone, I plop down on a wobbly chair. I realize I’m shaking. Saying I’ll be glad if we never meet up with them again is an understatement.
