Paint Me Black and Leave Me Alone

-1-

Morgan POV-

Shit!

Gotta run! Gotta run!

The sounds of sirens wailed behind me, followed by the heavy footsteps of a particularly fast group of cops, or whatever the fuck they're called in this country....

"Hey! Boy!" One of them shouted behind me. "Stop right there!"

They thought I was a boy? Oh hell yes! Thank you genetics for flat chests and thank you Hot Topic for overly large sweatshirts and jeans for helping hide my identity!

I looked back at them once and made sure that my hood covered most of my face and pulled up the bandana around my neck to cover my nose and mouth, before sticking my middle fingers up at them and bolting around a corner.

Holy shit I just flipped off the cops!

I rounded a few more corners to make sure I lost them before finally catching my breath. Damn... It's hard to run so much with a backpack full of spray paint and stencils and crap on your back.

I was only able to rest for about a minute before the sounds of shouting and footfalls penetrated my ears once more.

I panicked.

Gotta hide! Gotta hide!

I looked around frantically and spotted a sewer lid. I suddenly found myself thinking about my role model. Banksy had used sewer systems to hide from the cops a few times, so why can't I? British sewers can't be worse than American sewers at least.

Without a second thought, I lifted the lid of the thing and hopped inside, making sure to slide it noiselessly back into place.

You know how in movies when the hero is hiding from the villains and they just wait in one spot until they hear the bad guys go away, then keep running to wherever?

Yeah, doesn't work.

Cops are pretty thorough when looking for people like me and they'll even check the sewers.

I really didn't feel like getting arrested, so I just pulled out a flashlight from my backpack and started walking.

Other than the smell, walking in the sewers isn't too bad. I'm not one of those girls who has to have everything in the Triple P's: Pink, Prim, and Perfect. Sometimes you can even find graffiti down in them, as I just now learned while passing some.

"Oh cool!" I exclaimed as a certain piece caught my attention. It was big, blocky, artistic lettering that said: 'Robbo' with lots of arrows coming out of it.

For a long while I continued walking, seeing how many names and styles I could recognize, and hoping to find some of my idol's work.

When I finally reached a dead end, I spotted it.

It was one of the monkeys, the ones that wore a sign on their stomachs that would normally say 'Laugh now but one day we'll be in charge', or would have a handprint on them, but this one was different.

It had an arrow pointing up at another lid to the surface and said under it: 'No cops to find you, only the boy and his dog'.

I cocked my head to the side. The boy and his dog? What?

Even though it seemed weird, the thought of no cops appealed to me and I made my way out of the sewers.

It was still dark out when I slid the lid back into place behind me. I looked at the time on my digital wrist watch. 4:15 in the morning.