Author's Note: Hello you beautiful people! This is my first fanfic (Woo-hoo!) And I chose to do RENT because…well it's RENT! ENJOY!
Disclaimer: I do not own Rent. But, this awesome guy named Jonathan Larson does!
Mark Cohen did not notice the strange and lonely girl until one windy afternoon in October. She was sitting on a street corner, by a pharmacist store, reading a torn-up, paperback copy of Animal Farm with the book nearly up to her nose. What made Mark take a look at her was her hair. It was a bush, he evaluated, of black curly hair and her skin was as brown as the cream-coffee he gets at the Life Café. Her hair, the way it curled on her head, reminded him of Joanne, a friend of his. She looked small too and skinny. But, he couldn't help but stare at her hair, until he finally noticed her looking at him with her book resting on her lap.
" Um, hi," Mark said hesitantly. He was afraid he might have frightened her by his staring.
She squinted her eyes at him and puckered her lips. "Were you staring at my afro?"
Mark stood there silently, with his camera, afraid that he would say something that will upset her as if his staring wasn't enough.
The girl rolled her eyes and sighed. "Don't worry, you're not the only one." She toke a hold of her book and put it back up to her nose.
Relieved that he didn't upset her, Mark pointed at the book she was reading. "Animal Farm," he said. He putted the camera to his side. "I read that in high school. Sophomore year."
The girl turned the book over and looked at the title. She seemed to be staring at each letter.
"It's good," she said turning it back to the pages. "It keeps my attention, surprisingly."
"Yeah, it was pretty interesting. But, I never liked it as much as my other classmates. I didn't really think a book about talking animals was a sort a book I would general like."
The girl looked at him, squinting again. He finally noticed how young her face looked. 13, maybe 14, he guessed. Her eyes then shifted to the camera on his side. Her face lit up and she asked. "Are you a director?"
Mark followed her gaze to his camera and he let out a nervous laugh. "Oh, no. Not really. I'm just a filmmaker. Nothing special."
The girl, whose face was still lit, putted her book down and stood up. Wow, Mark thought, She's shorter then I thought.
"Are you filming a movie, or something?" She asked, her eyes bright with curiosity.
"Um, not really. Sort of like a documentary, really," he replied shifting his camera to his other side.
The girl continued to stare at the camera and asked, "Is it going to be in movie theatres and such?"
"It would be cool if it did. But I doubt it, little one."
The girl looked up to him, and he began to wonder if she was studying him. Starting to feel uncomfortable, he shifted his camera again.
"I'm Mark, by the way." He extended his right hand with his camera secured tightly to his left side.
The girl shook his hands with a small smile and quickly let go with that smile turning into a frown. The girl looked down at the ground. Mark waited for her to say her name and the girl waited for Mark to say something else, so both were quiet.
"Um," Mark said unsure of what else to say.
"Your hands are cold," she said quickly, her eyes still on the ground. "Like my father's."
"Oh," Mark pushed his glasses up, nervously, unsure on how to respond to that comment. "My hands are always cold. My girl- I mean this girl who is my friend named Maureen- told me that my hands are often cold. Also, since it's already cold outside and a thunderstorm is coming-"
"There's a thunderstorm coming?" The girl's eyes seemed to be wide with fear.
"I think so," Mark said. He watched as she picked up her book and stuffed it into a brown satchel, which seemed to be coming apart. Its strap was twisted and dark brown and the bag was stained with something red, Mark couldn't really figure out.
"I need to go," she said, picking up her patched-with-rags blanket.
"I'll walk you home if you-"
"No!" The girl yelled. Mark stepped back a bit surprised by her sudden outburst. She closed her eyes and she sighed. "No. I'm sorry. I mean, I said no because… I can't go home." She shifted her eyes back to the blanket gripped in her hands and stuffed it into her satchel.
"Why can't you?"
She looked up at him for a few seconds then let out a shaky laugh.
"It's complicated," she replied.
Mark scratched his hair and shifted his camera.
"You can stay with me and my friends for awhile, if you'd like. I don't know if-"
"That'll do," she said quickly and looked at the sky. The clouds have begun to turn gray and were moving into each other to turn into a very dark sky. Thunder rumpled into the distance. Her heart leaped.
"Let's go now," she said.
Mark looked at her questionably, shrugged, and told her to follow him. She had to run to catch up with him and made sure she was close enough to him so she wouldn't get left behind. Noticing her fast walking, he remembered she had smaller legs then him, and walked even slower for her.
"You never told me your name, kid," he said passing a homeless man singing The Bohemian Rhapsody.
The girl looked at the homeless man who was wearing a rock-n-roll T-shirt and torn up jeans with no socks or shoes. She smiled at how he belted the operatic section of the song and looked up to Mark.
"Call me, what you called me earlier. Little One."