Serce made her way home quietly, thinking over her conversation with
Jack. Oblivious as she was, she couldn't help taking notice of a little boy
standing a few feet in front of her, leaning against a fruit stand. A
grimace took over her face as she observed the small child; the tousled
dark hair on his head was grubby from city life, and his clothes were as
worn out as worn out can be. He had his back to her, and one skinny little
hand groped around the rotten apples, all that was left from a day's sale.
All the while he seemed to keep an eye out for the vendor, who was
conversing with his neighbor about the lousy day they had just had. One
dirty little toe stuck out of his decrepit boots, as he stood on his
tiptoes to try and see what he was groping at.
Suddenly Serce felt a gush of wind sweep by, and she saw someone else next to the little boy; who quickly vanished. In his place was a similarly dressed, similarly shabby child, but it was a girl. Her dirty blonde hair contrasted with her ruddy cheeks, and she looked to her sides as she tried to steal apples without being noticed. "Mary, hurry up! And get more than one!", came a whispered call from out of the shadows. The girl trembled with fear as she started piling the apples in the upturned hem of her dress, which she held with her right hand. A horse drawn cart came out of nowhere, making a loud splash in a puddle of water and causing the short, stocky owner of the stand to turn in Mary's direction. "HEY! Whatcha t'ink ya doin'? Come back heah!" Even the hairs on her head seemed to shiver as she turned and ran, dropping all the apples in the process of getting away. "Mary!", cried the same small voice from the shadows, "come back! Come back!" The two voices mingled, the loud scary voice of the fruit vendor, and the small, frightened voice of the little person who remained out of sight. "Come back!" She ran, and ran, and ran.
Strangely enough, it was a horse drawn cart that awoke her from this daydream, just in time to see the vendor turning towards the little boy. "Kid! Cheese it!" she yelled at the top of her lungs. Turning towards her for a brief moment before he ran away, the child showed a gratitude in his eyes that was best to remain unspoken. It was the kind of look you give someone you've never seen before, but at the same time feel like you know them, because you feel like they know you. And indeed they know you; they were you.
Cursing in some unintelligible language, which Serce thought to be Greek, the vendor shook his fist, but made no move to follow her. It was late, and he was just too plain tired; the rotten apples wouldn't have been a great loss anyway. The only thing that aggravated him was the possibility of word getting around that a stinky little street rat had swiped some of his merchandise. Since everyone was too tired and busy at the moment to pay attention to his or her neighbors, no one had noticed the ruckus, and therefore, he saved face.
Serce didn't read all of this from the look he was giving her though, and walked briskly away. A groan escaped her as she remembered that she wasn't going home just yet, but she had to pass by the distribution center first. "How'd I ferget, anyway? I'se still luggin' around dis big pile o' papes." With that, she turned right on the street that was just ending, and looked to her sides as she passed through the big gates.
~_*_~
The sound and smell of tobacco being chewed was unmistakable, especially when the person chewing it was Terrance Focks. The tall, skinny man seemed to eat nothing, but keep that disgusting wad in his mouth all day, at all times. That, along with his scowl, made up two of his most prominent characteristics. As daylight perished and night started to invade the city, his scowl got even worse, and the voracity with which he masticated also seemed to augment. Focks hated his job, and what he hated the most was having to go home late because of the children and young adults that made up the selling body of the newspaper that employed him. Ever since the confounded strike, he had orders to take back the papers they didn't sell and refund their money. Since this required more of his time, which he already considered too precious to spare, it's needless to say he was never in a good mood at nightfall.
All the newsies were well aware of this fact, and Focks was well aware of the reluctance it brought upon some of them to return their papers. Thus, those who were easily intimidated hardly ever took more papers than they knew they could sell. However, as luck would have it, 'wimpy ones', as he referred to them, were pretty rare, and usually consisted of newcomers to the job. They were usually as scared of returning their papers as he was annoyed of having to be there to refund them. So when they did have to show up, he liked to amuse himself by tormenting them Most of those, however, became braver as time passed. The old-timers were the boldest, and annoyed the hell out of him. He hated dealing with them the most.. Since newsies came and went, Focks generally had a variety of 'wimpys' and 'boldys', but usually more of the latter than the former.
Knowing that there were kids who weren't scared of him didn't help his ego much, which in turn didn't do wonders for his mood, either. If Focks could only look at the kids' lives through their eyes, he probably wouldn't be very surprised that a lanky, bitter man who spent his day behind a newspaper distribution counter didn't scare them much.
Serce was an 'in-betweeny'. She didn't get much of a kick out of giving Focks a hard time, like some of the others did; but she also sure as hell never let him intimidate her. It was a clash of tempers each time they met, one that neither of them looked forward to. This made their encounters always start off on a lousy foot.
Looking up from his grimy nails which he had been studying intensely, Focks sighed loudly as he saw her approaching. "Whatcha want, ey?" he asked rudely. Serce looked him square in the eye and plunked down her papers on the counter, making it shake. "What da hell d'ya think?" was her reply. Focks had had an unusually boring day and was in the mood for a little teasing; "Eyes biggah den your hands, ey? Couldn't sell what ya took, ey?" That 'ey' thing of his got on everyone's nerves, but today especially, it made Serce twitch. "My money. Now." "Ooooh, touchy touchy, ey?", he snickered, visibly amusing himself greatly with her foul mood.
Serce noticed what he was doing immediately, and though she was tired, she wasn't too tired to teach him a lesson. She continued to hold his gaze, but he now thought something in her eyes changed. They seemed a bit softer, perhaps even.inviting. A little smile formed on her lips. "You must git lonely heah, spendin' da whole day by yerself," she whispered barely loud enough for him to hear, "dontcha?" Focks gulped and almost swallowed his filthy tobacco, but couldn't manage to mouth any words, just sort of gave a nod. Suddenly the girl's dirty blonde hair didn't seem so dirty anymore, and instead of skinny, he saw her body as slender. Serce could barely control the laughter inside of her, seeing the man starting to wiggle in his seat. Out of the corner of her eye, she finally found the perfect weapon of assault: a cup of steaming coffee. She moved closer to him, leaning over the counter and running her fingers over the collar of her shirt. That was all that it took for him to gawk and not dare take his eyes away from her neck; which was just what she intended, since it freed her other hand to move close to the coffee without his noticing. She needed to keep talking though, "Ya know, sometimes it gits perdy lonely on dose streets out dere, too.all dose people walkin' about, no one seems ta have da time to stop an' chat. or do oddah t'ings." His breathing became hard and a shiver started to go through his body, dangerously reaching underneath his waist. Serce noticed the bulge and almost blew her cover, the urge to burst out laughing was so great. Shaking her head to relieve herself of the comic tension, she seemed to turn him on even more because he thought this was part of her seductive act. Finally, her hand reached the coffee cup and, just as he was halfway up and about to grab her, one swift movement tipped the hot liquid all over the desk, dripping onto his trousers. It wasn't enough to burn him, but that wasn't her intention anyway.
Focks gave a loud screech and sat back down, cowering like a hurt animal. "Should've been sumtin cold, ta keep junior over there from getting' any moah excited!" Serce blasted out in a wave of laughter. "Now gimme my money." He practically hissed at her as he counted out her coins. "You'll pay fer dat, ya heah me? Ey? Ya will. just ya wait." A clatter sounded as he shoved her money across the counter and a few pennies fell on the floor. "Aaaw, pooah thing, got ya all excited fer not'in. sorry fer dat," Serce chuckled as she picked up the coins and walked away, "ey?" she couldn't help adding before disappearing to the left of the gates.
Terrance Focks stood up, cursing, and trying to wipe the mess the girl had made. "She'll pay.she'll pay." he kept on repeating. But he didn't even convince himself of what he was saying, he just said it to feel better. Part of the reason why he kept his job, even though he hated it so much, was that his dim wits couldn't get him a better one. So he couldn't really waste his time planning revenge on a streetwise teenager for getting him aroused..
Suddenly Serce felt a gush of wind sweep by, and she saw someone else next to the little boy; who quickly vanished. In his place was a similarly dressed, similarly shabby child, but it was a girl. Her dirty blonde hair contrasted with her ruddy cheeks, and she looked to her sides as she tried to steal apples without being noticed. "Mary, hurry up! And get more than one!", came a whispered call from out of the shadows. The girl trembled with fear as she started piling the apples in the upturned hem of her dress, which she held with her right hand. A horse drawn cart came out of nowhere, making a loud splash in a puddle of water and causing the short, stocky owner of the stand to turn in Mary's direction. "HEY! Whatcha t'ink ya doin'? Come back heah!" Even the hairs on her head seemed to shiver as she turned and ran, dropping all the apples in the process of getting away. "Mary!", cried the same small voice from the shadows, "come back! Come back!" The two voices mingled, the loud scary voice of the fruit vendor, and the small, frightened voice of the little person who remained out of sight. "Come back!" She ran, and ran, and ran.
Strangely enough, it was a horse drawn cart that awoke her from this daydream, just in time to see the vendor turning towards the little boy. "Kid! Cheese it!" she yelled at the top of her lungs. Turning towards her for a brief moment before he ran away, the child showed a gratitude in his eyes that was best to remain unspoken. It was the kind of look you give someone you've never seen before, but at the same time feel like you know them, because you feel like they know you. And indeed they know you; they were you.
Cursing in some unintelligible language, which Serce thought to be Greek, the vendor shook his fist, but made no move to follow her. It was late, and he was just too plain tired; the rotten apples wouldn't have been a great loss anyway. The only thing that aggravated him was the possibility of word getting around that a stinky little street rat had swiped some of his merchandise. Since everyone was too tired and busy at the moment to pay attention to his or her neighbors, no one had noticed the ruckus, and therefore, he saved face.
Serce didn't read all of this from the look he was giving her though, and walked briskly away. A groan escaped her as she remembered that she wasn't going home just yet, but she had to pass by the distribution center first. "How'd I ferget, anyway? I'se still luggin' around dis big pile o' papes." With that, she turned right on the street that was just ending, and looked to her sides as she passed through the big gates.
~_*_~
The sound and smell of tobacco being chewed was unmistakable, especially when the person chewing it was Terrance Focks. The tall, skinny man seemed to eat nothing, but keep that disgusting wad in his mouth all day, at all times. That, along with his scowl, made up two of his most prominent characteristics. As daylight perished and night started to invade the city, his scowl got even worse, and the voracity with which he masticated also seemed to augment. Focks hated his job, and what he hated the most was having to go home late because of the children and young adults that made up the selling body of the newspaper that employed him. Ever since the confounded strike, he had orders to take back the papers they didn't sell and refund their money. Since this required more of his time, which he already considered too precious to spare, it's needless to say he was never in a good mood at nightfall.
All the newsies were well aware of this fact, and Focks was well aware of the reluctance it brought upon some of them to return their papers. Thus, those who were easily intimidated hardly ever took more papers than they knew they could sell. However, as luck would have it, 'wimpy ones', as he referred to them, were pretty rare, and usually consisted of newcomers to the job. They were usually as scared of returning their papers as he was annoyed of having to be there to refund them. So when they did have to show up, he liked to amuse himself by tormenting them Most of those, however, became braver as time passed. The old-timers were the boldest, and annoyed the hell out of him. He hated dealing with them the most.. Since newsies came and went, Focks generally had a variety of 'wimpys' and 'boldys', but usually more of the latter than the former.
Knowing that there were kids who weren't scared of him didn't help his ego much, which in turn didn't do wonders for his mood, either. If Focks could only look at the kids' lives through their eyes, he probably wouldn't be very surprised that a lanky, bitter man who spent his day behind a newspaper distribution counter didn't scare them much.
Serce was an 'in-betweeny'. She didn't get much of a kick out of giving Focks a hard time, like some of the others did; but she also sure as hell never let him intimidate her. It was a clash of tempers each time they met, one that neither of them looked forward to. This made their encounters always start off on a lousy foot.
Looking up from his grimy nails which he had been studying intensely, Focks sighed loudly as he saw her approaching. "Whatcha want, ey?" he asked rudely. Serce looked him square in the eye and plunked down her papers on the counter, making it shake. "What da hell d'ya think?" was her reply. Focks had had an unusually boring day and was in the mood for a little teasing; "Eyes biggah den your hands, ey? Couldn't sell what ya took, ey?" That 'ey' thing of his got on everyone's nerves, but today especially, it made Serce twitch. "My money. Now." "Ooooh, touchy touchy, ey?", he snickered, visibly amusing himself greatly with her foul mood.
Serce noticed what he was doing immediately, and though she was tired, she wasn't too tired to teach him a lesson. She continued to hold his gaze, but he now thought something in her eyes changed. They seemed a bit softer, perhaps even.inviting. A little smile formed on her lips. "You must git lonely heah, spendin' da whole day by yerself," she whispered barely loud enough for him to hear, "dontcha?" Focks gulped and almost swallowed his filthy tobacco, but couldn't manage to mouth any words, just sort of gave a nod. Suddenly the girl's dirty blonde hair didn't seem so dirty anymore, and instead of skinny, he saw her body as slender. Serce could barely control the laughter inside of her, seeing the man starting to wiggle in his seat. Out of the corner of her eye, she finally found the perfect weapon of assault: a cup of steaming coffee. She moved closer to him, leaning over the counter and running her fingers over the collar of her shirt. That was all that it took for him to gawk and not dare take his eyes away from her neck; which was just what she intended, since it freed her other hand to move close to the coffee without his noticing. She needed to keep talking though, "Ya know, sometimes it gits perdy lonely on dose streets out dere, too.all dose people walkin' about, no one seems ta have da time to stop an' chat. or do oddah t'ings." His breathing became hard and a shiver started to go through his body, dangerously reaching underneath his waist. Serce noticed the bulge and almost blew her cover, the urge to burst out laughing was so great. Shaking her head to relieve herself of the comic tension, she seemed to turn him on even more because he thought this was part of her seductive act. Finally, her hand reached the coffee cup and, just as he was halfway up and about to grab her, one swift movement tipped the hot liquid all over the desk, dripping onto his trousers. It wasn't enough to burn him, but that wasn't her intention anyway.
Focks gave a loud screech and sat back down, cowering like a hurt animal. "Should've been sumtin cold, ta keep junior over there from getting' any moah excited!" Serce blasted out in a wave of laughter. "Now gimme my money." He practically hissed at her as he counted out her coins. "You'll pay fer dat, ya heah me? Ey? Ya will. just ya wait." A clatter sounded as he shoved her money across the counter and a few pennies fell on the floor. "Aaaw, pooah thing, got ya all excited fer not'in. sorry fer dat," Serce chuckled as she picked up the coins and walked away, "ey?" she couldn't help adding before disappearing to the left of the gates.
Terrance Focks stood up, cursing, and trying to wipe the mess the girl had made. "She'll pay.she'll pay." he kept on repeating. But he didn't even convince himself of what he was saying, he just said it to feel better. Part of the reason why he kept his job, even though he hated it so much, was that his dim wits couldn't get him a better one. So he couldn't really waste his time planning revenge on a streetwise teenager for getting him aroused..