"What's wrong?" I asked.
"Fork?" he replied.
"Use your hands," and with that I dug my hand into the food to grab my share. I shoved it into my mouth.
He looked at me. Then his eyes traveled to my uncovered tummy, then to my legs. I smiled, and grabbed another handful and shoved it in his face.
I'm playing. I love playing. But he doesn't think I'm playing.
"What'd ya do dat for!" He's yelling at me. He seems to be doing that a lot.
I laughed at Puppy's frustration. "Eat." I said, and shoved the next handful in his mouth (which was wide open and anger) and closed it so he's forced to swallow.
"Why are you'se dressed like that?" He asked.
"Because I can."
"Why am I here."
"Because you are."
"Why aren't you'se answerin' me questions?"
"Because I'm not." I'll give him answers later. Right now: "We have to go someplace safe."
"Why?"
"Little boy, if you don't stop asking questions, I will shove my fist down your damn throat," Oh my god, do I even think about what say anymore?
"Where are we'se gonna go?"
"Where ever you want. Eat more."
As he does so, I cleaned up the kitchen. 15 minutes later I picked up the pot that used to hold food. "Damn boy, you not hungry or anything." He smiled at me. That's a first. "How old are you?" I asked.
"17. How about you'se?"
"You wouldn't believe me."
"Don't you answer questions."
"Stop asking them."-I sighed-"246."
"Yeah right."
"O.K."
"Sure."
"Alright," -I said sternly, then added, "Where are we going?"
"Da Lodgin' house."
"Kay, lets go."
So we walked down the street and entered a building that said at the top 'NEWSBOYS LODGING HOUSE'. We opened the door, walked up some stairs, turned, then I lost track of what happened.
All of a sudden we were in a large room with a lot of boys. Ooo, fresh meat. One came up to greet us.
"Hey-a-Spot, what happened to yer arm?"
"I was savin' dis goil from dis ugly guy, and he hoits me arm. So she wrapped it for me."
I think I look either pissed or shocked at this answer, but I'm not sure anymore. I'll let it slide for now, he needs to keep some dignity…Spot, pathetic name.
A bot with a cowboy hat, and a red bandana walked up. Red. Blood. Hungry. Stop it!
"Hey Spot. Who's da goil?" He asked.
"Ivory," I said and held out my hand. He took it and kissed it. I scowled and pulled my hand away from his grip, and wiped it on my jeans. That's Gross!
"So Spot did a little savin' ta night?" he asked. I looked at Spot cause' he looked at me. Uhh, Fine, I'll lie for him. I hate lying, but I'll do it. I do owe him for hurting his arm.
So I stared directly into his eyes and smiled. "Yup. He did a good job too, all beatin' up a guy 10 times bigger than him." Oh my God. The look on his face…I just have to break it a little. No one can be that respectful of me. "Course , I may be exaggerating, and it did take him a long time." The look faded, but gratitude and respect was still there.
"Well what was you'se tinkin'?" said a blonde boy and a patch over his eye. There's an eye there, it's I guess it's just for show.
"Excuse moi?" I had to turn to face him.
"Well goin' out like that. You'se bound ta run inta somethin'."
Well, isn't he a smart one. And I doubt he's talking about the wall I hit a couple blocks back. I looked down at my naval; naval ring secure and in place. (I lost my tongue ring so I replaced it for my naval). "Where I come from this outfit is fine." I lied, yeah right. In the ghetto's maybe, like the Bronx or Brooklyn. Oops, glad I didn't say that outloud.