Never What It Seems

by JJLives

For Christmas: Santana gets stuck working for a charity and meets a girl who doesn't make her life any easier.

I know, I've been missing in action and I doubly know that you guys still sticking with me are waiting for updates to my other stories. I am seriously trying but I think this is what I needed. My friend Chris told me to write a one shot for Christmas so I figured why not, even though I'm not sure if this is staying as a one shot at this point. so this is to her, Chris Merry Christmas.

It's so cold! Why is it this cold? And boring. I wouldn't notice the chill so much if there was actually something to distract me. My toes are frozen in my boots and my fingers feel like they're about to fall off.

Like, what was Chad thinking putting me, of all people, on some bum corner in the middle of nowhere? He must not have heard of 'utilizing resources' before. I'd definitely be able to make the charity more money in a shopping mall or like Time Square. I'd definitely be able to bring more in than those old biddies he gave the premium corners to.

I sigh as I blow on my mitten covered fingers. I should have brought a thicker pair.

The door behind me chimes and I perk up. Finally a sign of life! How is it every other street is bursting at the seams with cars and pedestrians except this one?

An elderly man walks out of the book store I'm sharing the corner with. He automatically shoves his hands in his pockets after securing his coat more tightly around his frame. I instantly plaster my sweet smile on my face. Normally I would just ask the man for money and go straight into a rant to guilt him into coughing up some change but I'm trying a new approach. If I do well here maybe Chad will change me to a more lively corner, or better yet inside a warm mall!

"Hey!" I say in such a chipper way I almost don't recognize my own voice.

The man looks up at my voice and stares at me like he thinks he should know me but can't place my face. I refrain from rolling my eyes because let's face it, if he met me before he'd never forget me.

"Do you have any spare change?" He's about to refuse of course, most people do. "I'm collecting to give some poor homeless children some new winter clothing." He still doesn't seem quite convinced. "Their old clothes are full of holes and holes aren't very good in keeping warmth in." Insert smile and giggle for good measure. He reaches into his coat and pulls out his wallet. Score!

He holds out a few coins and I see three out of six of them are dimes. I smile anyway and thank him motioning to the collection ball I have set up beside me. He steps forward and deposits his meagre offering. I wait until the last coin tings into its resting spot before opening my mouth.

"We were really hoping to buy a few toys for them as well," I sighed exaggeratedly, "but as it is we are just praying we have enough for the clothing. We know that's more important this time of year but telling a six year old that a new jacket is more exciting than a new doll is tough." I smile again. "But thank you for your help sir, they will be grateful nonetheless."

He grumbles and reaches back into his wallet and shoves a twenty roughly through the small opening meant for coins. I say something sweet in an annoyingly high pitched voice that pulls a smile from him as he walks away wishing me a Merry Christmas.

Okay, now if there were just more people around I'd have better luck.

After a few more agonizing minutes the door behind me chimes again. Seriously? That bookstore gets more action than anything else on this block. Even the coffee shop across the street has no one in it and the door hasn't opened since I set up shop.

I look over to see a girl roughly my age walk out. She looks around the street for a second, eyes passing over me briefly. I don't know what she expects to see, nothing on the block has changed in the last hour except the old man and her making an appearance. She pats the pockets of her black jeans, front and back, before doing the same to her leather jacket. I see her mouth quirk into a frown before I realize she's looking my way. I don't know why but my reaction is to look away.

The next thing I know she's standing directly beside me and from the corner of my eye I see her checking her pockets again.

I figure I might as well ask. Maybe she's checking her pockets for change to give.

"Do you have some change you could spare?" Her response is not positive. She narrows her eyes and just stares at me. I guess she's not quite in the Christmassy giving spirit yet.

"Do you have a light?"

I'm surprised at her voice. By her rough exterior, nose ring, and tattoo I can see the start of on her forearm I was expecting a hard voice to match. But hers sounds kind of sweet. Childlike maybe? It's definitely not what I was expecting but I find it a pleasant surprise and I relax a little.

"Hello, are you challenged?"

"Huh?" I turn to face her just in time to catch her rolling her eyes. What the living hell! Bitch did not just roll her eyes at Santana Lopez.

I take the few seconds of her attention being in the back of her skull to observe her. Her blond hair is down, framing her face but for a tattooed, nose ring and leather jacket wearing individual her hair is less greasy than I would have imagined. She at least has good hygiene if not good manners. Her eyes are framed in thick black eyeliner and smokey eye shadow. And as she returns her gaze to me I notice that it accentuates her blue eyes which at the moment are piercing right through me in a way that makes me internally cringe. And since I'm the observant type I realize her make up choice must not have been accidental. The rest of her features are soft just like her voice so she must want people's attention drawn to her eyes.

"A light?" She says again holding up a cigarette in her left hand I hadn't noticed before now.

"Oh," I say finally catching on, "no, I don't smoke. Sorry."

Her eyes leave mine to scan my body. She scoffs and starts digging in her pockets once more. "Figures."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I start getting defensive.

She doesn't answer, which frankly doesn't surprise me. I'm getting the feeling she's one of those 'say as little as possible' type of people.

She finally finds what she's looking for in an inner pocket of her jacket and immediately brings the smoke to her lips and lights it. She closes her eyes as she takes that first inhale and watching her I kind of want to take up the bad habit. I mean if it gives that much release. Plus maybe if I had a damn smoke my hands wouldn't be so cold!

I'm so wrapped up in my head I don't realize she's opened her eyes to see me staring at her. She scowls at me, rightfully so. I mean I'd do the same if I was her. But still, no Lopez has ever backed down before and I'll be damned if I break that family tradition. I keep my gaze on her until she frowns and blinks. Not long after that she looks away, taking another drag of her smoke.

I internally cheer in congratulations to myself. Feeling bold, I ask again if she has some spare change.

"No." Yeah, few words is right.

I bite my inner cheek to stop my mouth from running with words I'm sure wouldn't help my cause.

"It's for clothing for poor children. Anything helps." I smile again remembering the positive effect it had on my last prey.

"So."

"So you don't have a dime or anything you can donate?" I motion towards the collection ball and force my smile to remain. I so want to scowl at this chick.

She looks me up and down again before scoffing once more. "Sure, Princess."

Princess? What...

I don't realize what she's doing in time, being so caught off guard with her naming me. But I do catch her smirk as she brushes passed me and reenters the bookstore.

I go from confused at her calling me Princess to shocked that the girl actually knows any form of a smile before I see smoke out of the corner of my eye.

I whip my head around to see where it's coming from and realize it's wafting up out of the coin hole in the collection ball.

"Fuck sakes!"

I rush over, hoping the damn cigarette, I'm more than positive was the girls donation, doesn't start the twenty I worked so hard for on fire.

I try tipping the ball upside down but that's a no go. I can't open the damn thing as it's locked and the idiot Chad didn't trust me with a key yet. I mean, I'm totally going to steal the money right?

I get frustrated as the smoke inside seems to increase and do the only thing I can think of. I smash the living hell out of it against the sidewalk.

I probably look deranged as fuck and once the cigarette is found amongst the broken plastic pieces and thrown out I glare at the door the blond disappeared into.

Not wanting to cause bodily harm to someone I decide to gather up the few dollars I did collect and make my way back to the center.

I tried, I really, really tried very hard to convince Chad that the broken collection ball was not my fault. I begged him to switch me to a different corner because I would do better away from that girl. But his response was if I couldn't handle one girl how was he to trust me with a busier corner with even more people.

I can see his side of it I suppose but he hadn't met this girl. She was beyond nasty. I mean who but the worst of souls tries to burn money meant for children?

Okay maybe that was a slight exaggeration on the soul part. I guess murder would have been worse, but who's to say she's not a murderess!

Again probably exaggerating but still. The point is the next day I would rather have been anywhere else than on the exact same corner. I arrived early in hopes of catching people walking to work. It was both a good and bad idea. Good because before eight I collected over fifty dollars, more than I'd made the day before in five hours. But it was bad because I hadn't been thinking I'd have to run into the girl again so soon. But shortly before eight I was thanking an elderly lady for the five dollar bill she'd given when I saw a familiar leather jacket in my peripheral.

I look down the street to find someone to strike up a conversation with before she reaches me but find the block to be eerily empty like the day before, the only other living thing being the elderly lady walking away.

What was this blond, a demon?

I know, I know, exaggeration.

"Back again?" I remind myself who the voice belongs to. It definitely doesn't belong to someone as innocent as it sounds. I keep my eyes on the coffee shop across the street and ignore the question. "Wow, someone's not a morning person."

When I still don't respond she laughs. Not a small giggle or snort but a full on laugh. The sound has me turning to face her even as I tell myself not to.

She's unlocking the door to the book store. When the lock clicks she looks back over her shoulder at me. She has on the same dark make up as the day before and she smirks, noticing she's finally got my attention.

"Catch ya later Princess." She shoots before slipping in the open door and closing it behind her.

I still don't understand the nickname.

The next few hours are a blur of absolutely nothing happening. Two people walk by but I am unable to get a nickel out of them.

It's getting colder as well. Shouldn't more sun equal more warmth?

The blond comes out of the shop a few times, once every couple hours or so to have a smoke. She doesn't try conversing and I'm happy to remain silent. I pack up my stuff around noon and have lunch in the coffee shop I've been staring at all morning. Their coffee isn't bad and the sandwich I have is passable as food.

The afternoon is even more unbearable. The only person I see is the bookstore girl when she comes for her smoke breaks. I decide to wait until the shops close in hopes of catching some people on the way home. I'm not as lucky as I'd been that morning. I'm in the middle of asking a man in a fancy suit and tie for a donation when the door to the bookstore rings.

The man refuses and continues on his way before I can convince him otherwise.

"You know, I admire you staying for the evening rush and all," she turns from the door once it's locked to face me, "but you really aren't that smart." She quirks an eyebrow when I scowl. "You already asked these people for money on their way to work, right? What makes you think they're going to give you money day and night?"

I honestly hadn't thought of that but I'm not about to let her know that.

"Not all of them gave money this morning. Maybe they're in a better mood on their way home." She shrugs and goes to walk passed me. "Speaking of which, you haven't given any yet. Have any spare change?"

"I believe I already made a donation." She doesn't stop walking.

"All the more reason to give a more generous contribution this time." I glare at the back of her head.

"No."

"What's your problem?"

"Right now?" She turns around but continues to walk backwards across the street. "You're the only problem I have. Stop asking for a donation you're never going to get."

Damn it! I silently curse her as she turns back around and continues on her way. She had to go and say that didn't she? She had to make it a challenge.

She said I'd never get a donation, well we'd just have to see about that.

The next couple days kind of blur together. I wake up early, grab a coffee at the now familiar shop and head across the street to the bookstore corner. I set up shop and begin to pester the people going to work. After the rush, if you could call it that, I'd see a few people here and there and always the bookstore girl. We haven't spoken since the other day besides me asking for change at least once a day. Maybe pestering relentlessly will work. She always refuses.

After five days on the corner Chad tells me to take a day off, which I totally don't complain about. It's not like I look forward to early wake ups and cold weather. I stay in my apartment for the majority of the day only going out to grab a coffee from the corner. Sadly it's not as good as the coffees I've been getting from the other shop.

The next day I find myself ready for another week of collecting. But that morning I realize the bookstore blond was right. I thought having not been there the day before would allow me to be more successful but I was wrong. Most of these people have already donated and, although I'm breaking down some of the previous cheapskates, I'm not getting a whole lot in donations from the others who thought their obligations had been met already.

The girl arrives again, shortly after eight like usual. She throws the smoke in her mouth to the ground and steps on it before digging her keys out of her pocket. I take a sip of my coffee and try to ignore her.

"Thought you'd given up, but I see your back."

"Day off." I reply casually.

"I didn't know moral obligation took a day off."

She's obviously listened to my rants the previous week as that was one of my more successful guilt trips on others. Although it hasn't seemed to work on her.

"I had personal matters to attend to, if you must know." I respond, turning to face her.

"Personal matters?" She leans against the brick wall behind her, crossing her arms against her chest. "Like what? Getting your nails done? Buying a new wardrobe?" She looks me up and down like she'd done the first day. "Date with some fancy senator's son or something?"

Who does she think I hang out with? Senator's sons? Not that I couldn't get one if I wanted but talk about boring. I hate politics.

Not wanting to tell her I spent the entire previous day wrapped up in a blanket cocoon on my couch watching reruns of House I go for a slight, well complete, lie.

"For your information my parents were in town and I was visiting with them all day and then went for drinks with a few friends last night." I turn away from her to look down the street, empty of course, so I take another sip from my cup. "Not that it's any of your business, but I needed a recharge of friendly faces because it's not like I'm getting a dose of that anywhere around here."

She doesn't respond but I hear the chime of the bookstore door opening as she makes her exit.

I don't see her all morning after that. Which is weird and oddly I begin looking for her. I find myself frequently looking behind me to see if she's snuck out without me noticing but she's never there. I pack up and take my lunch in the coffee shop like usual, wondering where the girl could be. Normally I'd see her at least a few times, the girl smokes like a chimney, but she hasn't come out once. It's not as if she's busy. I'd only witnessed two customers enter and leave the shop.

The afternoon I catch a few new people who are pleasant and generous which lifts my hopes that maybe the next week won't be a disaster after all. But still no sign of the girl. I tell myself I won't wait and pester the people returning home that night because I don't want someone to get super annoyed and hostile with me. But not having seen the girl, I'm slightly worried that the last customer in the morning might have harmed her. I mean he wore a sketchy trench coat. That screamed serial murderer or rapist right? I tend to over exaggerate things so I tell myself to calm down and wait until she locks up and then I'll leave myself.

When six o'clock comes and goes, and then six thirty, I begin thinking my previous outrageous thoughts may have some validity. When the time approaches seven I'm about to enter the shop myself and make sure nothing is wrong, the girl had been pretty spot on with opening at eight and closing at six the week before, but just as I'm about to walk up to the door it opens. The girl quickly slips out and closes and locks the door. She turns quickly and walks away, all without looking at me once, even though she knows I'm here.

"Night." I let slip from my mouth, confused about the whole interaction. Why was she obviously ignoring me?

I watch her pause for a second before continuing on, not bothering to respond to me.

I sigh and pack up my things, realizing I stayed two hours later than I'd intended and hadn't even asked anyone for a dime as they passed me. All because I was worried something happened to a girl that didn't even like me and who was actually going out of her way to ignore and avoid me.

Good job, Santana.

The next day I arrive like normal. And come eight o'clock I notice the girl, who I just realize I've never learned her name, walking across the street.

She glares at me as she walks by, not bothering with calling me Princess or saying anything else to get on my nerves. She unlocks the shop door and slips in silently.

I'm prepared for the same routine as the day before, not seeing her at all until closing but I was wrong. She comes out regularly like she had been the week before but never looks my way without a scowl plastered on her face. I ignore it for the most part but when she begins scoffing during my speeches to potential donors, I can't help but become fed up. After the third person leaves without giving anything I turn to her and ask what her problem is.

She throws her smoke to the ground and steps on it. She looks at me, glaring of course, as she pushes off the wall she's been leaning on.

"You." She says before she turns to the shop door.

"Me? What the hell have I done to you?"

"Nothing." I'm about to yell at the bitch because seriously? She's being a douche for no reason. "You're just a hypocrite that's all."

"How so?" I really want to hear this. The girl doesn't know enough about me to make that assumption.

She turns towards me. "You stand there guilting others out of their hard earned money because it's a moral obligation," she air quotes the words I frequently use, "and yet what have you donated?" I open my mouth to answer but she continues. "You go over and spend money everyday on coffee and food while you think nothing of Alice whom went hungry one day last week because you guilted her into giving up her money she was going to buy eggs and bread with."

"I'm sure that's not true. No one would give up their last bit of money if they were starving. They obviously need it. I'm just asking those that have the extra to donate it as opposed to spending it on frivolous things."

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. "You seriously have no idea how the real world works do you, Princess? Alice is a generous person, too much so sometimes but you can never talk sense into her. She always seems grateful for the little things so going without food for a few days to potentially help a small child is nothing for her. And you talk about frivolous spending? When you're the one throwing twenty bucks a day on coffee and sandwiches across the street while nickel and dime-ing every passerby out here whether they can afford it or not."

"They don't have to give it. That's their decision. You can't blame that on me."

"I'm not blaming them giving the money on you because you're right. It's the way you guilt them into thinking there are others that need it more when there are plenty around here that need it more than those kids."

"How can you say that! These kids are orphans and have nothing!"

"They have hundreds like you getting money for their wants while the government pays for their needs. Look around! How many kids go without their wants, go without their basic needs met because the government isn't there to help them and their parents have no money to do it themselves." She turns and takes a deep breath. "You're taking money from those that need it and giving it to those that could maybe use it. It's doing more harm than good." She finishes before disappearing into her shop once more, not waiting for me to respond. I'm getting a strong feeling she likes to have the last word.

I pack up early for lunch, not wanting to be near when she takes her next smoke break. I sit in the coffee shop across the street and stare at the latte in front of me. I wasn't hungry enough to eat so I hadn't ordered anything else. I'm trying to convince myself that it wasn't a result of the speech I just received. I'm not in the mood to credit that girl with any effect on my actions.

I turn to the window and watch as she comes out for a quick smoke. It doesn't take her that long but while she is out a few people walk by. She waves at one older lady as she passes and scowls at a group of boys, our age or a little younger. One must have said something to her that she doesn't like because she flicks her cigarette butt at him and gives him the finger. The boys move on and she returns to the warmth of her shop.

I sigh as I cross the street to continue my day, hoping the girl stays put inside for another couple hours until I've been here long enough to justify heading back to the center to clock out. If I show up too early Chad will definitely have something to say about it.

About an hour later I notice the group of boys return, this time staying across the street a little ways down from the coffee shop. There's a few more of them this time and I see a couple younger boys I hadn't noticed the first time around. They seem content in staying where they are and I soon forget about them. I stop a few random pedestrians and ask for donations in the next few minutes, succeeding more than I thought I would. But I can't help but wonder if these people are like Alice the girl mentioned. I try to shake off the thoughts so I can continue my work and I find it helps a little thinking of the kids whom this is benefiting, no matter the other's views on it.

The streets clear again before I look up noticing there's a couple of boys breaking away from the group I've forgotten about. They jog across the street and slow to a walk once on this side. They each have their hands shoved deep into their jacket pockets and approach my corner with looks of determination.

I don't know what they're up to but I find my Head Bitch persona to wear just in case.

The one in the lead stops a good ten feet from me and looks up. He does a double take when his eyes meet mine. All I can say is this guy better not be here to cause me any trouble or they are both going to regret it.

The second boy soon catches up and stops beside his friend. They exchange a few whispered words which puts me slightly on edge. The shocker though, is when the first boy looks up and smirks at me, holding a finger to his lips telling me to be quiet. Thinking they are about to attack or something I reach into my own coat pocket and wrap my hands around the pepper spray I always carry.

The first boy holds up his other hand holding three fingers up. He then starts a countdown putting one finger down at a time. When he gets to one he turns abruptly towards the bookstore and reaches into his pocket with the hand he previously held to his lips. I see them both pull something out of their pockets and am shocked to realize they are rocks.

"Hey!" I call trying to distract them but their arms are already swinging. A second later the silence of the street is shattered along with two of the windows on the front of the shop.

The boys laugh as they take off across the street to meet up with the others once again. I'm about to go after them, my shock wearing off into anger pretty quickly but the door to the bookstore opens and she walks out. If I hadn't seen the cuts on her face I probably would have continued across the street but I instantly go from anger to worry. How close was she to the window?

"Are you okay?" I take a few steps towards her, she still has pieces of glass in her hair and around the collar of her shirt. It's the first time I've seen her without her jacket on and about the same time I realize that, I see there are cuts down her neck and along her right forearm. Blood trails mix in with ink on her arm that I'm too distracted to make out. "Jesus you're bleeding everywhere!"

She doesn't pay me much attention but stares at the laughing group across the street.

"Fucking delinquents!" She yells. "You're paying for these damages Tommy!"

The leader of the group, taller than the others with shoulder length brown hair starts walking closer while staying on his side of the street. I notice he also wears a leather jacket but unlike the blond's his is a cheap fake and makes him look more like a poser than anything.

"I didn't do anything, Sweetheart, and you can't prove which one of us did or if any of us did." Like hell we can't.

"Liar, I saw-"

"Shut up." I'm more shocked to find I've been shut down by the one I'm trying to help than anything. "This is none of your business." She hisses between her teeth, still keeping her glare on the boys across the street.

"You call me Sweetheart one more time Tommy and you'll regret it. Fucking punk."

"Would you rather another name? I have plenty: whore, slut, prostitute. Take your pick Honey." He lengthens the last pet name just to goad her. "Speaking of which, how was the latest conquest? He left the building kinda late last night."

I seriously want to march across the street and teach this asshole a lesson but I'm not sure if it will help or worsen the situation. I look back at the girl beside me and catch her averting her eyes. She'd been looking at me for some reason. She looks more affected by the douches last comment than she is about bleeding all over the sidewalk.

"Get out of here before I call the cops! And I will be paid for this, even if I have to go to your father."

The smile is wiped off his face as he scowls our way. He lets a "bitch" escape his lips, just loud enough for us to hear, before he and his group disappear around the corner.

I don't know what I should do next. I turn to the blond to see if I can help with anything and notice her staring at the shattered windows of her shop. I hear her groan under her breath as she looks to the sidewalk littered with broken glass. I can only imagine what the floor of the shop looks like. I open my mouth to ask what I can do but she's already moving. She enters the shop faster than I can think of words to say.

Two minutes later she returns with a broom and dust pan. She starts aggressively sweeping up the mess and I watch her as she works. Her knuckles are white where they grip the broom handle and the tendons of her forearms pop out with each sweep she makes. It's only now I notice that she is still bleeding, red trails down her arms and one drop travels down the handle of the broom.

"Hey," I say quietly, trying to be careful now. She's obviously distraught and pissed off. She doesn't seem to hear me or is ignoring me. I take a stop closer and try again. "Hey, Let me clean this up. You need to go clean yourself up, there's still glass all over you. you need to get it out of your cuts."

She still doesn't acknowledge me so I take another step forward and grab the handle of the broom. She tries to pull but I keep my grip tight. She tries yanking it again but fails, she stops pulling but keeps her grip.

"Let go," she says in a low voice.

"Just let me help you."

"I don't need or want your help!" She yells and I hear her voice break. She yanks her arm back and rips the broom from my hold. She stares at me with her piercing eyes before she closes her eyes for a moment and takes a breath. When she opens them she won't look at me. Her eyes dart to the broken glass to the windows where the shards fell from to the coffee shop across the street where the boys were last seen. "Just leave, okay? I don't want your help."

The defeated tone is what has me backing away. I don't know how to help when she doesn't want it. I decide the best thing for me to do is to pack up and leave, let her handle things alone. She obviously doesn't appreciate an audience when she's not in control.

As much as I want to return the next day to check on her I can't being myself to go. There are so many things going through my mind, from the moment I wake up. I phone Chad and tell him I'm not feeling well and will need the day off. He agrees for me to take care of myself and tells me to take as much time as needed to get better.

I spend the morning in the apartment. Quinn calls around noon and it's a welcome distraction. Her complaining about the girls at Yale and telling me about the latest gossip around her dorm has me remembering who I am. I don't hide out from my troubles anymore, I face them. I hang up promising to visit Quinn soon and grab my coat as I walk out the door.

I'm not sure where I'm going at first but just wander. I jump on the subway and get off at a random stop. I don't realize it's the same stop I've been to almost every day for two weeks until I look up and see a familiar corner. Everything is the same except plywood covering where glass was previously. I walk by quickly, not wanting to be seen by the shop owner and I see a few red drops on the sidewalk as pass. I'm not a stranger to blood but the sight of these drops instantly has me irate.

I find myself on the subway again and this time I exit onto a less familiar street. I do recognize it though and know exactly where I'm supposed to go.

The door opens a very long time after I ring the bell. The second Ms. Jeffreys sees me she is moving to slam the door in my face. I stick my foot in the door to stop it and cringe at the marks I know I'm going to find in the leather of that boot later. I love these boots.

"Please, just hear me out."

"I'm sure you're not supposed to be here."

"Jesus Christ, I didn't get like a restraining order put on me or anything. You all seem to think I'm a criminal or something."

"You kind of are." I can't believe she would say that!

"It was an accident and I was drunk. I'm sorry, okay. I'm doing community service." She stops trying to crush my foot but keeps the door from opening all the way. "Community service in which I'm helping this place."

Her lips purse but she widen's the opening and steps back to let me in.

"Why are you here?"

"I wanted to look around if that's possible."

She looks confused which I can't blame her for. The last time I was here had been on a dare and I'd left in handcuffs. I don't blame her for being wary.

"I want to see what I'm working for, you know." I hate feeling belittled and although Ms. Jeffreys features relax at my explanation I still feel like I'm about to be scolded like a little child. "I'm sorry for the part I played in the damages here. I didn't even know what this place was. I didn't know kids lived here, which I know doesn't excuse me from what happened, but I just want to look around. Maybe this makes no sense." I turn back to the door. "I'll just leave. I'm sorry for coming here."

I feel her hand on my arm and it stops me from running.

"Stay, look around. I believe that you aren't a threat, just misguided maybe." She smiles at me and I try to smile back, but still feel like a fool. "Do you want a guided tour? You can look around yourself if you would like."

"I won't be long. I just..." I can't explain it. "I-"

"It's okay. Just come see me before you leave okay?"

I nod my head and she leaves me in the entrance way. I look around before turning down the opposite hallway. I notice that the building, although old, is well kept. It's clean and orderly and from further in the building I can hear the screeches and laughter of the children that live here.

I peek into a few rooms and see a few have bunk beds and others a few regular beds. Some are small, others house larger beds for older kids. I don't see many toys aside from the few set on dressers or stuffed toys tucked into their beds.

As I turn the next corner it opens up into a larger space with couches, chairs and toys. It reminds me of a waiting room in a doctor's office. There are a few kids running around but they don't seem to notice me.

I watch for a few minutes before something hits the back of my leg. I turn around and look down to see a soccer ball, It's ripped and torn in spots and the white is more yellow than anything and the black's faded to grey. I glance down the hall to see a small boy peeking his head around the hall corner at me but he ducks back out of view once he notices I've caught him.

I reach down and pick up the ball and make my way down the hall. He peeks around again and quickly retreats when he sees I'm closer than I was the last time he looked. As I turn the corner I'm expecting to see an empty hall but instead I'm greeted by a little boy about six years old. He has a mop of messy blond hair and looks up at me with green eyes. I kneel down on his level and hold the ball out to him.

"Is this yours?" He nods his head and smiles. "Did you hit me with it on purpose?" I lift an eyebrow and remember my mother doing the same thing to me when I was a little girl. I used to be so terrified of that look. This boy smirks at me. I guess that's not one of the genetic traits she passed on to me. He shakes his head in the negative but his smile says otherwise. "Really? Why don't I believe you?"

"Dunno." He lifts his shoulders and I swear this kid is better at the 'I'm innocent' look than I was as a kid. And I wasn't a spoiled little girl for nothing.

He takes his ball from my hands and runs off towards the play room to join the other kids. I watch him leave and see that his shirt is worn and a little too big but it's clean.

I decide I've seen enough and quickly find Ms. Jeffreys to say my goodbyes and make my way home after a quick pit stop.

I get what the bookstore girl was saying. There are kids outside of this institution that could use the money more, maybe even families that I pestered into giving a donation like I did Alice, but that doesn't take away from the fact that these kids could use some more things as well: upgraded toys, better fitting, newer clothes and such.

There are still boards covering the windows of the bookstore when I arrive, not that I thought it would be fixed already, this time of year is horrible for speedy repairs. I set up my donation ball and wonder if the store is even going to open today. Maybe she was just going to close shop until the windows are fixed.

I'm glad when I see her walking down the street. As she gets closer I see the cuts on her face and neck. They look better cleaned up but I still can't help wincing when I see them. She looks at me only briefly before going straight for the store. She's not smoking this morning and I find it odd.

"Morning." I say before she disappears into the shop. She looks over her shoulder at me and I'm expecting a glare but this time she just looks.

"Day off again?"

"Not, really. Kind of I guess." She quirks an eyebrow in question. "Sorry, Just had a lot to think about." She shrugs and turns to enter the shop. "Wait."

She turns back and I approach her, holding up a bag I've brought with me.

"What's this?" I hold the bag out for her and wait for her to take it. Once she does I take a step back. She opens it and looks inside then looks up at me. "Um... I don't understand."

"It's for Alice. I don't know her, you do."

"You don't have to do this." She tries handing the bag back.

"I want to. I shouldn't have pushed for money, you were right. Maybe that will help make it up."

We are both distracted when someone walks by and places some coins in the donation ball. I think them and return my attention back to the blond in front of me.

"I didn't mean for you to do this."

"I know."

She actually looks kind of cute when she's confused. She tries one more time to hand the bag back but I don't take it. She sighs and takes the food in with her as she enters the shop.

She comes out a few hours later for her smoke break and leans against the brick of her shop. We don't speak, like normal, but she's stopped glaring at me like she usually does. She nods her head at me when she reenters her shop and I figure at least that's better than a scowl or giving me the finger.

A few hours later a truck pulls up out front and a man enters the shop. He comes out a few minutes later and instructs the two others, who both begin unloading large panes of glass out of the back. They work diligently for the next hour or so before they pack up their things and leave. I look at their handiwork and notice the store's name is now etched on the glass of the center most window where it was plain before.

I'm not doing too bad in collecting even with my less pushy approach. Maybe letting people donate themselves is a better idea than bugging them until they break down. More people are leaving my corner smiling than scowling today if that's an indication.

She's surprised to find me the next time she leaves the shop. I know this because she nearly drops the smoke hanging from her lips when she notices me. She looks at her watch and then back at me.

"No lunch today?"

"Nah, ate a big breakfast." She gives me a disbelieving look but continues with her smoke. "I like the new window." I nod up to the etching.

She looks up as well. "Yeah, I've been meaning to replace them, just haven't gotten around to it before now."

We're both silent for the rest of her cigarette break. She opens her mouth after she's put out her smoke but must decide against saying what was on her mind because she closes it again and silently takes her leave.

The next time she comes out she asks me if this is all I do for work and I mention it being volunteer hours. She doesn't question me but gives me that same look over she's done in the past. I swear she's about to say something rude before she remembers we are on a kind of truce and changes her mind.

The next couple days are the same routine. We end up talking here and there about random things, and I continue to skip my lunches across the street. Where it was at first an annoyance, now I find I look forward to the small conversations we do have in that time. I also like seeing her dynamics with some of the people passing by on their own lunch hours. I ask her name frequently but she keeps refusing. I'm pretty sure from her smirk that she is seeing it as a game. I've started asking her for donations again as well, my own kind of game.

Although, it was a noble feat, not buying coffee and lunch with money that could be put to better use, no coffee is not a good thing for me. My veins need it to live, so a few days of this routine is starting to wear on me.

This afternoon, I am definitely noticing my missed coffee at lunch. Although I did pull a smile out of the bookstore girl by telling her until she tells me her name I am going to continue to call her Francesca, and that kept me in good spirits this morning. I use the wall of the bookstore to lean against a few hours after my normal lunch. I must have closed my eyes because what woke me up is a cold splatter on my right cheek and laughter. I open my eyes and jump to the side as an egg is thrown five feet to my right, hitting the new windows, marring their once shiny surface. I glare back at the two younger boys, who threw the rocks at the same windows the other day and they take off running.

The girl slams open the door and curses their retreating backs. I take a second to assess the damages and like before I'm instantly angered. This time knowing the blond isn't hurt my anger boils instead of dissipating. Some people can be jerks!

"Look after my ball would you?" I ask before jogging off in the direction I last saw the two boys head. It's about ten minutes later that I see them hunkered down in an alley laughing their asses off.

"What's so funny?"

They both jump at my voice, eyes going wide. The lead boy from the other day recovers faster and I realize he's the leader of these two even if he does take orders from Tommy.

"Hey, Darlin'," Really, sleaze learning from uber sleaze?

"Do not call me that." I take a step into the alley and turn up my nose at the smell. "I knew you weren't ladies men or anything but really? I never pictured you living in a flea infested alley. But I guess it's fitting."

"We don't live here," the leader defends.

"Yeah," the other pipes up, "We live across the street there." He points to a brick building across the street behind me. There can only be three or four apartments at most in it so at least I know where they live if this turns sour.

"Shut up, Idiot." The leader hits the other over the head with his hand.

"Okay, we're probably going to want to do this the easy way, right?"

"What are you talking about."

"You, and you," I point to each of them, "are going to come with me and apologize for what you've been doing to that shop."

"You can't make us." The leader goes to step passed me and I move to block his exit. "Move." He places his hand on my shoulder and pushes me back and out of the way. Definitely a mistake. I grab two of his fingers and twist his wrist. Instantly he's on his knees begging me to let him go.

His friend tries the same move but I move to block him as well, still holding tight to his friends fingers. He tries to dodge me but one well placed foot and the guy tumbles over like a sack of rice. I reach down and pull him up by the ear.

"Okay, we can do this the easy way, or I can take you both in separately the hard way, which is it going to be?" I twist each of my hands harder and they both cry out their cooperation.

There's only one incident from the alley to the shop and they both learn that it's just easier to follow along now rather than piss me off more. Some help from a few young girls in the neighbourhood works wonders on little boys self esteem.

I march them both into the shop and realize I've never been in here before and have no idea where to go or where to find the blond. Thankfully I don't have to stand here looking like an idiot because she emerges from a back room when she hears the door ring out.

"How can I help you?" She's looking at a book in her hand as she makes her way around the front counter and around a couple boxes on the floor. She's obviously very familiar with the space.

She looks up when shes a few feet from us and actually takes a step back in surprise. Her eyes dart from the two boys to me and I return her gaze with a smirk of my own.

"What's this?" she asks, looking back to the boys once more.

"You sent this bitch to hunt us down is what's up." The leader found his voice once more. I narrow my eyes at them and the other takes a noticeable step away from his friend, not wanting to share in his punishment. I reach up and smack him across the back of his head like he'd done to his friend in the alley. "Ow! Fucking b-" I do it again.

"You should be smart like your friend and keep your mouth shut until you're asked to speak." He doesn't open his mouth again. "Good boy. Now you are both going to apologize to her for what you did."

"Sorry." the smaller one supplies quickly. "Really, I didn't wan't to, I- I was just trying to fit in." I'm about to smack him, because how stupid does that sound when it actually hits home. I did the same thing at his age. Kept people at a distance, scared so they wouldn't approach or hurt me. I look over to her and see her nod in understanding as well.

We both look to the taller one who is rubbing the back of his head where I hit him. I smile.

"You can hit me all you want, I'm not apologizing to that slut." He tilts his head in her direction.

I expect her to yell at him like she did Tommy but she doesn't. She actually averts her eyes. She takes a moment before she looks to the first boy. "Thank you, I'd rather not have to go through this with you again. I don't typically give third chances."

"It won't I swear." He answers. He takes a step forward and drops his voice. "I don't even really like Tommy. I just don't really have anywhere else to go after school, ya know?"

She nods again and looks around us. "You could come here, work off the damage you've done." she motions to the newly replaced windows. I notice that the egg has been washed off.

"Should have left the egg for them to wash off." I say, looking back at her.

"Well I didn't think you'd turn up with them in tow when you ran off earlier now did I?" she retorted. My smile widened and I shrugged.

The smaller boy she was talking to coughs and we both turn our attention to him. "I'll take your offer."

"Good. You can go now, come back tomorrow afternoon." He nods and turns to leave.

"You better show or you'll have me hunting you down." I speak up and I see him nod before he slips out the door and jogs off down the street. He seems to be in a hurry to get home, probably so he arrives before the guy still in my custody is released.

"You gonna say something nice now?" I ask him. He glares at me but remains silent.

"Just let him go. He's always been a troubled kid." she steps aside and motions for him to leave and he actually takes a step forward, like I'm not even here. Bad move.

"Call me troubled? Fucking prostitute."

That's the final straw. I step forward and grab his ear. He yelps and tries to turn out of my hold so I kick the back of his right knee he's put most of his weight on. He stumbles and falls to his knees. "She may be happy with just letting you go, but that's not how we do it where I'm from. Look at her and tell her you're sorry."

"You're a psycho!"

I dig my thumb into the flesh of his shoulder and he hisses. I look up and see she is staring at me questioningly.

"You never asked why I was volunteering on that corner." Her eyes widen. "Court ordered. It's no biggie. I have anger issues."

I say it more for him than her so I smile at her while he's staring at the floor. Her eyes narrow but she goes along with it.

"I'm impressed."

"Easy way or hard, your choice." I say once again.

"Fine," he looks up and meets her eyes. "Sorry, okay?"

I step back and he leaps to his feet and turns to face us both in a defensive stance. he back away until he reaches the door and opens it before calling us both an unpleasant name and running out in the same direction as the other.

"That boy, did not learn his lesson." I say to his retreating back.

"And he probably never will. At least not any time soon." She turns to set the book in her hands down on the counter behind her and disappears into the back room.

I look around and notice that the place is kind of cozy. Books are lined up in shelves lining each wall and a few book cases seem to be randomly placed in the open, not lined up in rows like typical bookstores I've been to in the past. There are a few chairs and a couch placed in the space not taken up by books. I actually like it, and I'm not a book-y person.

She returns with my donation ball and I remember that I left it in her care.

"Thanks, sorry about that."

"Nah," she waves my apology away, "You brought back the entertainment so it's the least I could do." She smiles and hands the ball over to me.

"What's your name." I ask for the hundredth time.

"Francesca I thought." she smirks again and I'm about to demand she tell me but the door opens and a customer walks in. She immediately takes the distraction and turns to help them. I take the hint and squeeze my way around the lady who interrupted us and spend the rest of the afternoon trying to make up for the lost time chasing a couple of delinquents has cost me.

She remains busy the rest of the afternoon. Customer after customer enters the shop. She tries for a smoke break around five but is disappointed as the second she steps out to join me a customer walks around the corner and enters the shop through the door she's still trying to exit out of. He doesn't thank her for holding the door and probably doesn't even know she owns the place.

I roll my eyes at the guys lack of respect and she nods her head in approval. I get a call shortly after the interaction and have to pack up early. I briefly think of popping my head in and telling Francesca, she's so not a Francesca, I'm leaving but I know she's busy with the customer so I think better of it. It's not like we're BFF's or anything.

I'm late arriving the next morning and don't get set up until quarter to eight. I skipped coffee this morning as there was no time to make a pot before I had to leave. I stare at the coffee shop across the street and debate asking the bookshop girl to watch my things again when she arrives so I can run over and grab a cup. There is no way I'm lasting the day without my caffeine fix.

I'm surprised when she walks out of the coffee shop with two cups in her hands. I hadn't been under the impression she drank coffee. She makes her way across the street and stops in front of me.

"Morning." She holds a cup out to me and I take it rather quickly and bring it to my lips. It's perfect. I hum in approval. "Wow someone likes her morning coffee," she laughs.

"Sorry, and thank you. Seriously I was about to die."

"Die? That is serious." She rolls her eyes but its more playful than vindictive.

"I didn't have time to make a pot this morning so this is very appreciated." I take another sip then reach into my coat pocket for some change to pay her.

"No, no." She steps back, refusing the money I hold out. "I don't want your change. It's a thank you for yesterday." She motions to the coffee in my hand.

"But-"

"No buts, I'm not taking your change." I glare, because I really don't want her to be spending money on me when I'm sure she had to dish out a pretty penny the last couple days fixing the windows of her shop. I should be buying her coffee. Speaking of which.

"You drink coffee?" The questions surprises her as I'm sure she's been getting ready for a lengthy argument about the change.

"Hot chocolate." she holds up her own cup before taking a sip and humming herself.

"So you'll tell me your beverage of choice, but not your name?" She shrugs and I smile.

I reach over to my collection ball and place the change from my hand into it. She looks at me over the lid of her hot chocolate.

"You said I'd never get a donation from you, so I'm counting that as your donation."

"That doesn't even count." We argue about the validity of the donation for a few minutes before she realizes it's quarter passed eight and she still hasn't opened up the store yet.

Just as she is about to disappear inside I call out to her. She stops and turns around, door still ajar.

"Thanks for the donation," she's about to say something smart when I continue, "Brittany."

Her mouth hangs open for a few moments before she asks how I knew her name. I lift the cup of coffee in my hand to my mouth, making sure the name written on the side of it shows.

She narrows her eyes at the cup before glaring briefly at the shop across the street. "That's the last good deed I ever do for someone. It always backfires."

I start to laugh and its only a moment before she joins me. "Catch ya later Princess."

"My name's Santana." I tell her.

"I know," she says before slipping through the open door and disappearing.

I shake my head and take another sip of my coffee, barely able to wait for Brittany's smoke break. The next couple weeks may not be so bad of a punishment as the courts thought it would be.