~~
Two months later, I was walking home from school when a black hummer passed me. Normally, it would not receive a second glance from me, although cars were not a norm since the pulse. But I saw one person in the passenger seat talking into a CB or something. I just got a gut feeling.
I went home and did my homework, trying to ignore the feeling, but I couldn't. Four hours later, I slipped out of my bedroom window with only a backpack. I knew I would miss my foster parents, they were so nice, but I also knew I had to leave.
I travelled a little farter north, learning about what happened to the country. I made up a story as to why I was alone. At ten years old, I told people I was orphaned in the post Pulse riots, it had happened to a lot of kids. Some created foster homes by hooking up with kids their own age and vying for sympathy from the parents, others joined gangs, but most just lived on the streets, trying their best to grow up sane. I was one of the latter.
I moved from city to city, hitchhiking where there was traffic, just plain hiking the rest of the way. About six months after leaving the French Quarter, I found myself in New York City. Like New Orleans, it hadn't been hit hard by the Pulse, but the effects were still there. The city was huge, so many tall buildings, I was amazed. I decided I liked the city, but didn't want to live on the streets. Even though I could take on just about anyone I met, I didn't really want to draw attention to myself. So I decided to find myself a foster home.
~~
Two months later, I was walking home from school when a black hummer passed me. Normally, it would not receive a second glance from me, although cars were not a norm since the pulse. But I saw one person in the passenger seat talking into a CB or something. I just got a gut feeling.
I went home and did my homework, trying to ignore the feeling, but I couldn't. Four hours later, I slipped out of my bedroom window with only a backpack. I knew I would miss my foster parents, they were so nice, but I also knew I had to leave.
I travelled a little farter north, learning about what happened to the country. I made up a story as to why I was alone. At ten years old, I told people I was orphaned in the post Pulse riots, it had happened to a lot of kids. Some created foster homes by hooking up with kids their own age and vying for sympathy from the parents, others joined gangs, but most just lived on the streets, trying their best to grow up sane. I was one of the latter.
I moved from city to city, hitchhiking where there was traffic, just plain hiking the rest of the way. About six months after leaving the French Quarter, I found myself in New York City. Like New Orleans, it hadn't been hit hard by the Pulse, but the effects were still there. The city was huge, so many tall buildings, I was amazed. I decided I liked the city, but didn't want to live on the streets. Even though I could take on just about anyone I met, I didn't really want to draw attention to myself. So I decided to find myself a foster home.
~~
