Hey! I know, I should be writing my other stories right now, but this was just too irresistible to not write :)

Thalia/The Makings of Grace

I stood in the shadows of a sewage-reeking alley, hungrily staring at the cart of fruit standing not ten feet away from me. I know, straight out of a Disney movie; the starving child plots to steal a shiny apple and gets chased through the city by magically-appearing guards. Yawn.

But this was real. Those apples were real. And my money? Was not.

Just my luck, the vendor was nowhere in sigh. No one was watching. I could easily grab one and run and no one would notice. Then I would have something to add to my pathetic store of stolen French fries and crackers.

So I did. I darted forward, and had my dirty fingers around the smooth surface of an apple—the smell had my mouth watering—when my collar constricted around my throat. It took me a moment to realize someone had grabbed the back of my shirt. I couldn't run without choking myself. I couldn't kick until I knew where my captor was.

The world spun. Suddenly I was face-to-face with a cruel-eyed man. The vendor. I'd wasted too much time admiring the fruit and not taking it. I could've been a block away by the time he got here. Stupid! I scolded myself.

"Got money for that?" the vendor demanded. I looked at him for a moment. Bushy eyebrows, beady eyes, thin mouth. All in all a creepy sort of face. Not the kind I'd want two inches from mine, anyway. So my genius response was to kick him where it hurts and make a beeline for the alleys, but his grip held fast.

"Brat," he hissed in my ear, his voice breaking. Somehow, he managed to begin pulling me to the door of the grocery store behind us. "I'm calling the police. Let's see how they deal with little thieves, huh?"

"No!" I yelled hoarsely. The police would only ship me back to my mom. No way I was going back to her. Not after what she did… So I kicked. I punched. I flailed. But the vendor was surprisingly strong for a guy who just got hit in the nuts by a kid.

"You're—not—getting—away," he told me, gritting his teeth. I dug my heels in the sidewalk, but him dragging me only left a streak of burnt rubber in the ground.

"Hey!" A new voice yelled at us from what felt like far away. I heard grunts, felt the hands holding me twist, then I was tumbling to the ground. On pure instinct I jumped back up, whirling to find the vendor, a 30-plus man, cinched in the headlock of a tall, sandy-haired teenage boy. I thought fast. I grabbed a vase from the cart and smashed it over his head. He crumpled to the ground in a heap.

I turned, a little suspicious, to the boy. He was standing there calmly, munching from the very apple I intended to eat. He tossed me one. "Got to be more careful," he explained. "These kind don't take to kids like us." He gave the vendor a well-placed kick for good measure.

I eyed him. "Us?"

"Strays," he clarified.

I studied his blue eyes. I saw no trace of lying. So, he was a runaway too. He looked tired, like he'd been on the streets for a while now. I wondered briefly what he was running from. Abuse? No, he looked fine. Judging from the look on his face, it was nothing good. I left it alone, figuring he'd tell me if he wanted to. I didn't need his life story, anyway.

"Do you have any partners in crime?" I asked, biting into the apple. My eyes almost rolled back in delight. Suddenly I felt like crying. I hadn't tasted anything so delicious in weeks.

The boy shook his head. "Nope. I work alone."

I shrugged. "Do you want to keep it that way?" He smiled. It was a nice one, but I could tell it was reserved—he didn't smile much. I guess he didn't have a lot to smile about. That was okay. Neither did I.

"Why'd you help me?" I asked, suddenly.

He thought about it. "You're like me," he said finally. "Running. You don't want to go home, no matter what."

I raised an eyebrow. He could read me. Most people couldn't read me. I couldn't help feeling a little impressed. First he saves me, then he reads my mind? Two for two.

"Why?" he wondered.

I felt strange, having this deep conversation with a stranger. "Not a lot of pleasant things waiting for me there," I said. He nodded, like he understood.

"I'm Thalia," I said, offering a hand. This boy seemed safe enough to trust. For now. He didn't look like the kind to backstab.

He shook my hand. His fingers had calluses. So did mine. I tilted my head. Huh. Seems like this boy and I had some things in common. Interesting.

"Who are you?" I asked, prodding him.

He put a hand to his chest, faking pain, then grinned. I did too. That was two smiles in a few minutes. Good work, Thalia.

"Luke. I'm Luke."

Not my best work, I'm aware. But, the first of many. The next chapter will be up hopefully by tomorrow :)

~ Mia ~