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CHAPTER TWO: FOR A DREAMER
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The girl cautiously opened her eyes, letting them adjust to the light. She yawned and stretched stiffly, easing the cramps out of taut muscles while she tried to remember how long it had been since the last time she'd had to sleep out on someone's fire escape. A year, maybe even two, she was sure. A small smile flickered across her face as she recalled the last sight she'd seen the previous night, and she started to get to her feet, turning around to see if the boys were still asleep.
They weren't. If the noise coming from inside wasn't enough of an indication, the round-eyed stare of the blond guy standing there with his nose pressed to the windowpane sure as hell was. She gave a start, clutching for the rail as she scrambled for the ladder. He called out, his voice muffled from behind the glass, as he started to open the window. "No, wait!"
Like hell I will! Skipping the last few rungs of the ladder, the girl dropped and hit the ground running, hurtling around the corner as fast as she could manage.
-=-=-
She ran until she was drunk with the euphoria of it- the dizzying exhaustion that slowly turned her legs to jelly, unaccustomed to the exercise after nearly six months of confinement. She drew long, labored breaths set the to rhythmic pulse of her own heartbeat ringing in her ears, concentrating on the counter rhythm her boots made as the thin-worn soles slapped the cobblestone. Her cheeks were warming, and she had just barely started to work up a sweat that helped to ward off the chill of the late October breeze. It was only a few blocks later until she finally allowed herself to duck into a cluttered alleyway, unable to go any farther. She sagged against the wall, almost instantly sick to her stomach, with a light- headed sensation that made her head spin. She squeezed her eyes shut, ragged gasps escaping her as she fought to catch her breath, clutching at the stitch in her side. A second wave of nausea swept over her so quickly and so unexpectedly that she was hardly ready for it, and a white-hot flash of pain seemed to sear the back of her eyelids with its brightness. Then it was dark, all dark, and with a sigh of resignation, she slid to the ground and blacked out.
-=-=-
When the girl was at last roused, she was dimly aware of a person standing over her- a someone whose booted toe prodded experimentally at her ribs. She made a small noise of protest, summoning up enough energy to roll onto her other side and draw her knees up tight against her chest, letting a matted mane of brown hair fall forward to entirely obscure her face.
The prodding grew more persistent.
She clenched her teeth, hoping that by some miracle her annoying tormentor would simply lose interest and wander off, leaving her alone with the headache that was already setting in. Of course, she never had such luck.
"Whaddya want?" The girl nearly growled in her annoyance.
"I was. I was jist wonderin' if, well. you was awake, an' well, since yah are." The tentative testimony was enough to tell her that the person was male- a young boy, judging by the childish high quality of his voice.
"Can't'cha see dat I'se tryin' t' die in peace heah?"
She certainly /felt/ like doing just that- and not for the first time in her life. In fact, it wasn't the first time she'd said as much, or at least something to its effect. Come to think of it, she'd been in another alley very much like this one, on the ground as she was now. If she hadn't known better, she would have sworn that she had somehow managed to revert back to that fateful morning over an entire year in the past.
"In dat case, uh- when yah die, kin I have your t'ings?"
That wasn't what was supposed to happen, her memory protested. The kid was supposed to call over another person, tell him what he had just heard.
// "Funny," the newcomer would remark, "You don't look as though you're dying." His voice would be a light, amiable tenor, compelling enough to make her respond not half as crossly as she would intend to.
"Well, I am. Go bother someone else," she would tell him, and he would laugh- a warm, genuine sound.
"Not until I've had a good look at you." //
"Hey. I as't you a question." The girl was torn out of her reverie as the boy's boot found leverage between her ribs and the dirty ground, rolling her flat onto her back. If she had been in any condition to do so, the girl would have sprung to her feet right then and there and popped the kid a good one that would've left his ears ringing. But she wasn't, so she just remained sprawled across the ground, motionless except to throw up a forearm to shield her eyes from the harsh midday sunlight that slanted into the alley.
"Well? Kin I?" The boy persisted.
She lowered her arm to fit him with what she hoped was a level look, assessing him through half-slitted eyes. He was scrawny, a poor excuse for a twelve- or thirteen-year-old boy with stringy hair that might have been blond after a good bath. Blue eyes looked down inquiringly at her- eyes that spoke of exhaustion and defeat, of lost innocence. He was kind of pathetic looking, really, and she almost felt bad for him- almost. But she had seen so many just like him, and some even worse.
"D'yah t'ink I'se got anyt'in' 'sides dah clothes on me back, kid?"
"Well-" the boy reconsidered, shifting uncomfortably- almost guiltily. "No."
"Den whaddya ask for?"
"I- I dunno."
The girl sighed. "Jist beat it, kid. I ain't got not'in' you'd want anyways, so yah shouldn't'a wasted your time. Go bother someone else, a'right?"
He certainly wasted no time in leaving, and then she was alone again. alone with the recollection that, once it had been dredged up from the part of her memory she had hoped she'd forgotten, wouldn't leave her.
// "Funny, you don't look as though you're dying."
"Well, I am. Go bother someone else." His laugh, that rich mellow laugh.
"Not until I've had a good look at you."
She could sense him squatting down next to her, sense him drawing close as he reached out a cautious hand to gently push the hair away from her face. She recoiled sharply, scrambling backwards until she pressed against the brick of the wall.
"That was right forward of you, sir!" She accused heatedly.
"It was, wasn't it?" He mused thoughtfully. "Ah, well, for a dying person, you move quickly enough."
She could see now that he seemed to be near her age, his hair a shade of honeyed wheat that was enviable by most girls she knew. His eyes, a startling shade of clear green, sparkled in merriment as he regarded her coolly, his mouth drawn up into a friendly smile.
She blinked several times in rapid succession, but the boy neither disappeared nor magically sprouted feathery white wings as she somehow expected him to. To her embarrassment, her antics only seemed to further amuse him.
"Here, let me help you up," he offered amiably. She stared at the proffered hand for a moment, until her disoriented mind registered what he was saying. Blushing, she reached up, the color deepening as his hand enveloped hers with a comfortably firm grip. As she was helped to her feet, a sudden surge of dizziness sent her stumbling back, whereupon his free hand found the small of her back, holding her steady.
"Thank you," she murmured, abashed. "If- if I may," she heard herself asking, "Well. who are you?"
He grinned wickedly, eyes sparkling even more brightly as he proceeded to execute a flourishing mock-bow. "The name's-" //
"Extry, extry! Suspected moidurah at large!"
And just as abruptly, the memory vanished, his face still so fresh in his mind, his laughter still ringing clear...
The girl cursed bitterly. There would be nobody this time, no savior appearing around the next corner to give her a hand up. She hauled herself to her feet, increasingly aware of the pangs of hunger and dizzying exhaustion with each passing moment.
"Foist t'ing's foist. Gotta get meself some dinnah," she told nobody in particular. And with that thought first and foremost in her mind, the girl stepped out of the alley and into the sea of tired faces of city-dwellers headed home after a long day.
-=-=-
The girl cautiously opened her eyes, letting them adjust to the light. She yawned and stretched stiffly, easing the cramps out of taut muscles while she tried to remember how long it had been since the last time she'd had to sleep out on someone's fire escape. A year, maybe even two, she was sure. A small smile flickered across her face as she recalled the last sight she'd seen the previous night, and she started to get to her feet, turning around to see if the boys were still asleep.
They weren't. If the noise coming from inside wasn't enough of an indication, the round-eyed stare of the blond guy standing there with his nose pressed to the windowpane sure as hell was. She gave a start, clutching for the rail as she scrambled for the ladder. He called out, his voice muffled from behind the glass, as he started to open the window. "No, wait!"
Like hell I will! Skipping the last few rungs of the ladder, the girl dropped and hit the ground running, hurtling around the corner as fast as she could manage.
-=-=-
She ran until she was drunk with the euphoria of it- the dizzying exhaustion that slowly turned her legs to jelly, unaccustomed to the exercise after nearly six months of confinement. She drew long, labored breaths set the to rhythmic pulse of her own heartbeat ringing in her ears, concentrating on the counter rhythm her boots made as the thin-worn soles slapped the cobblestone. Her cheeks were warming, and she had just barely started to work up a sweat that helped to ward off the chill of the late October breeze. It was only a few blocks later until she finally allowed herself to duck into a cluttered alleyway, unable to go any farther. She sagged against the wall, almost instantly sick to her stomach, with a light- headed sensation that made her head spin. She squeezed her eyes shut, ragged gasps escaping her as she fought to catch her breath, clutching at the stitch in her side. A second wave of nausea swept over her so quickly and so unexpectedly that she was hardly ready for it, and a white-hot flash of pain seemed to sear the back of her eyelids with its brightness. Then it was dark, all dark, and with a sigh of resignation, she slid to the ground and blacked out.
-=-=-
When the girl was at last roused, she was dimly aware of a person standing over her- a someone whose booted toe prodded experimentally at her ribs. She made a small noise of protest, summoning up enough energy to roll onto her other side and draw her knees up tight against her chest, letting a matted mane of brown hair fall forward to entirely obscure her face.
The prodding grew more persistent.
She clenched her teeth, hoping that by some miracle her annoying tormentor would simply lose interest and wander off, leaving her alone with the headache that was already setting in. Of course, she never had such luck.
"Whaddya want?" The girl nearly growled in her annoyance.
"I was. I was jist wonderin' if, well. you was awake, an' well, since yah are." The tentative testimony was enough to tell her that the person was male- a young boy, judging by the childish high quality of his voice.
"Can't'cha see dat I'se tryin' t' die in peace heah?"
She certainly /felt/ like doing just that- and not for the first time in her life. In fact, it wasn't the first time she'd said as much, or at least something to its effect. Come to think of it, she'd been in another alley very much like this one, on the ground as she was now. If she hadn't known better, she would have sworn that she had somehow managed to revert back to that fateful morning over an entire year in the past.
"In dat case, uh- when yah die, kin I have your t'ings?"
That wasn't what was supposed to happen, her memory protested. The kid was supposed to call over another person, tell him what he had just heard.
// "Funny," the newcomer would remark, "You don't look as though you're dying." His voice would be a light, amiable tenor, compelling enough to make her respond not half as crossly as she would intend to.
"Well, I am. Go bother someone else," she would tell him, and he would laugh- a warm, genuine sound.
"Not until I've had a good look at you." //
"Hey. I as't you a question." The girl was torn out of her reverie as the boy's boot found leverage between her ribs and the dirty ground, rolling her flat onto her back. If she had been in any condition to do so, the girl would have sprung to her feet right then and there and popped the kid a good one that would've left his ears ringing. But she wasn't, so she just remained sprawled across the ground, motionless except to throw up a forearm to shield her eyes from the harsh midday sunlight that slanted into the alley.
"Well? Kin I?" The boy persisted.
She lowered her arm to fit him with what she hoped was a level look, assessing him through half-slitted eyes. He was scrawny, a poor excuse for a twelve- or thirteen-year-old boy with stringy hair that might have been blond after a good bath. Blue eyes looked down inquiringly at her- eyes that spoke of exhaustion and defeat, of lost innocence. He was kind of pathetic looking, really, and she almost felt bad for him- almost. But she had seen so many just like him, and some even worse.
"D'yah t'ink I'se got anyt'in' 'sides dah clothes on me back, kid?"
"Well-" the boy reconsidered, shifting uncomfortably- almost guiltily. "No."
"Den whaddya ask for?"
"I- I dunno."
The girl sighed. "Jist beat it, kid. I ain't got not'in' you'd want anyways, so yah shouldn't'a wasted your time. Go bother someone else, a'right?"
He certainly wasted no time in leaving, and then she was alone again. alone with the recollection that, once it had been dredged up from the part of her memory she had hoped she'd forgotten, wouldn't leave her.
// "Funny, you don't look as though you're dying."
"Well, I am. Go bother someone else." His laugh, that rich mellow laugh.
"Not until I've had a good look at you."
She could sense him squatting down next to her, sense him drawing close as he reached out a cautious hand to gently push the hair away from her face. She recoiled sharply, scrambling backwards until she pressed against the brick of the wall.
"That was right forward of you, sir!" She accused heatedly.
"It was, wasn't it?" He mused thoughtfully. "Ah, well, for a dying person, you move quickly enough."
She could see now that he seemed to be near her age, his hair a shade of honeyed wheat that was enviable by most girls she knew. His eyes, a startling shade of clear green, sparkled in merriment as he regarded her coolly, his mouth drawn up into a friendly smile.
She blinked several times in rapid succession, but the boy neither disappeared nor magically sprouted feathery white wings as she somehow expected him to. To her embarrassment, her antics only seemed to further amuse him.
"Here, let me help you up," he offered amiably. She stared at the proffered hand for a moment, until her disoriented mind registered what he was saying. Blushing, she reached up, the color deepening as his hand enveloped hers with a comfortably firm grip. As she was helped to her feet, a sudden surge of dizziness sent her stumbling back, whereupon his free hand found the small of her back, holding her steady.
"Thank you," she murmured, abashed. "If- if I may," she heard herself asking, "Well. who are you?"
He grinned wickedly, eyes sparkling even more brightly as he proceeded to execute a flourishing mock-bow. "The name's-" //
"Extry, extry! Suspected moidurah at large!"
And just as abruptly, the memory vanished, his face still so fresh in his mind, his laughter still ringing clear...
The girl cursed bitterly. There would be nobody this time, no savior appearing around the next corner to give her a hand up. She hauled herself to her feet, increasingly aware of the pangs of hunger and dizzying exhaustion with each passing moment.
"Foist t'ing's foist. Gotta get meself some dinnah," she told nobody in particular. And with that thought first and foremost in her mind, the girl stepped out of the alley and into the sea of tired faces of city-dwellers headed home after a long day.
-=-=-
