The voice of reason in my head told me what I should be feeling.
My knees should be warm. They should be pressed against cement. They should be scraped and stinging.
But my knees had a different story.
They were cold. Not chilly, but icy cold. And wet. The knees of my jeans were soaked. I reached out and my fingers brushed against the ground.
Snow.
The hell...? What's going on? Snow? In September?! We barely get snow in January!
I ran my fingers over myself, checking for injuries. Converse shoes...slightly torn jeans...a bruise on my thigh...hooded, zip-up sweater around my waist (which I quickly pulled on)...tee shirt...cut lip...black eye...
Then something clicked. It was so obvious that I can't believe I didn't realize it before.
I couldn't see.
More importantly, I couldn't hear. Now, maybe most people would rather see than hear, but not me. My life revolves around hearing: music, books-on-tape...That sort of thing.
I couldn't smell, either, but that wasn't huge. I only have about ten percent of my sense of smell, anyway.
For all I know, I couldn't speak, either.
I stood up, shakily, wondering why my senses were gone, except for touch. But as I was thinking these things, my hearing began coming back, first faint, then progressively louder, until it was, ironically enough, almost deafening.
Thoroughly confused, I felt around, looking for a wall, or something, but my hands met nothing. I could hear the sounds of a fairly busy city around me. Not at all like home.
Where am I? I was starting to get panicky. I could hear someone yelling, and I almost clapped my hands over my ears.
"LOOK OUT!" I jumped and spun around, trying to find the source of the noise. My mind was giving me warnings; I could hear a steady, quick-paced beat, which sounded familiar...
A memory stirred. Every single horse race I had ever seen rose before my mind. Seabiscut...Ready to Run...Hidalgo...that movie about the little girl who joined that race that I can't remember the title of...
It was the sound of a horse's hooves pounding steadily against the paved street, only slightly muffled by the snow. I froze, not sure where to go. Any step could mean certain death.
"MOVE!" The voice was much closer, now, and then someone slammed into me.
I went crashing to the ground, skidding painfully across the ground, someone clumsily on top of me, just as a cart raced by, pulled by a horse, seemingly out of control.
That could have been so Les Miserables.
"Geez, girly! What's the matter with you?" I opened my mouth, but no words came out. So, I can't talk.
"Hello? Can you hear me?" I nodded, furiously. This mute thing was getting old, fast.
"Can you talk?" I shook my head. "Oh. Well, then...uh...do you have a place to stay?" Again, I shook my head. Wherever I am, it's not home. "Well, come with me. Jack can fix you up with a place to sleep." This stranger took my hand and began leading me somewhere, all the while remaining in his half of a mutual silence.
"My name's Dutchy, by the way," he said, breaking the awkward silence. Aww...a little Dutch boy...Wait. Why is my head screaming at me? Dutchy. Dutchy. Dutchy. Dutchy. Dutchy!
DUTCHY!
Les GASP! NEWSIES!
Okay, brathe. Yeah, remember breathing? It's good for your heart! Like...Cheerios...or something...
"OW!" Dutchy shook me off. In my moment of spazzing, I had squeezed his hand within an inch of its life. I mentally apologized, but, obviously, he can't read my mind, and even if he could, he'd go into shock before he even got near the apology.
After a moment, he hesitantly took my hand and rested it in the crook of his elbow. I grinned, idiotically. People are just so courteous.
"Here we are," Dutchy announced. "Home, sweet home." I looked up, subconsciously, and then remembered that I can't see.
Damn...
"Hey, Kloppman! I found this girl in the street!" Dutchy yelled. I winced. Don't. Yell..."I think there's something wrong with her," Dutchy continued.
"What's the matter with her?" a new voice asked.
"I dunno, Specs. She hasn't said a word, and I don't think she can see."
Specs...Dutchy...Sputchy! ACK! No slash! This is REAL life!
Great. It's gonna be hell trying to suppress my inner slasher.
"Looks like she got into a fight," Specs said. Someone touched my black eye, and I flinched. "How many fingers am I holding up?" I shrugged. "Can you count?" I bristled, slightly, and nodded. "Can you see my fingers at all?" I shook my head. Is it really that hard to contemplate the prospect of being BLIND?!
"Are you blind?" Dutchy asked. There you go...I nodded.
"You said she can't speak?" I presume Dutchy nodded. "Poor girl."
"Yeah. So, Kloppman, can she stay here?"
"How will she earn her keep?"
Silence.
He's good.
"She can sell!" Dutchy.
"Sutchy?" Specs.
"Yeah?" Dutchy.
"She's blind." Specs.
"Yeah...?" Dutchy.
"She can't see the headlines, you dolt!" Kloppman.
"Oh. Well, she can pity sell!" Dutchy.
"I suppose so." Specsy. "Lets go introduce her to the fellas." Someone took hold of my hand and led me up the stairs.
"Hey, Specs! Who's the girl?" someone called. My stomach twisted.
"Heya', Racetrack. Dutchy found her when he was coming home."
"What's her name?"
Silence.
Ah...Here's where things get tricky...
"That's a good question. See, she's blind, and mute, so I don't know."
"Well, we gotta call her something!" An unrecognizable voice. A little kid's voice. Hmmm...
I began to search my pockets for...Damn. I felt a bit, found Specs, and then took a deep breath, and dived in.
"Hey! What the...?" Specs yelped. I ignored him, and pulled my hand out of his pocket. I felt the coins with my fingers until...AHA! I held it up for all to see.
Here comes the charades.
"Money?" No.
"Coin?" No.
"Nickel?" No!
"That's not a nickel, Race." DUH! "It's a quarter." YES!
I started spazzing just slightly. I was nodding my head like crazy.
"Specs, why is she touching her nose?"
"It means that 'quarter' has something to do with her name."
"Quarter?" No.
"Twenty-five?" No!
"Two-Bits?" YES!
"Way to go, Skitts!" Don't. Flip...Skittery...Mmm...
"Two-Bits. Okay, well, we all need to chip in to pay for her board tonight. She'll start selling tomorrow."
"Who's she gonna sell with?" I'll sell with Race!
"I figure she can sell with Boomerang, you know, being a girl, and all." Damn.
"What about me?"
"Boomer!"
"Hey, babe." Whoa. Who said that? Was it Race?
"Hey, Blink." Oh. Okay. She can live. "Who's this?" An elbow propped up on my shoulder.
"This is Two-Bits. Dutchy found her." Kid Blink. I could almost feel Boomer's jealous eyes boring through me. Uh-oh.
I shrugged him off, and felt the glare weaken...barely.
"Yeah, anways, who sold well today?"
"I did," Jack boasted. I rolled my eyes. "I could cough up two pennies." I almost laughed. I would be rich if I ad all those pennies from home with me.
"I can put in a penny," Mush said.
"So can I," Dutchy chirped.
"I can, too. So, that's her board tonight. Boomer can take her selling tomorrow."
"What?" Boomer burst.
"What's the matter?" Jack demanded.
"I'm not going to drag her around town! I have a hard job selling as it is! I'm not going to drag along some street rat!"
Silence.
Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bunk.
"Boomer, what's the matter with you?" Kid demanded. "You can say she's your blind and mute cousin, and you family is trying to raise money to teach her brail, or something!"
"Well, then she can sell with you!" Boomer replied, vehemently.
"FINE!" Kid snapped back.
Shit. I need to do something. Crossing my fingers for luck, I reached out in the opposite direction of Kid, and grabbed an arm.
"Two-Bits, what's up?" I began jabbing my finger at Newsie A. "You wanna sell with him?" I nodded, vigorously.
"Okay. Looks like Two-Bits is selling with Jack."
Hee hee! Wouldn't that be just my luck? Anyways, review!
Shoutouts!
Buttons14--YAY! Mizzies forever! Love ya, hon.
My Dog Ate My Penname--Hee hee! Love your penname! Avenue Q! I haven't seen that one. Anyways, I'll be updating this one regularly (for once) because I really, REALLY like this!
TheAngryPrincess13--I'm so sorry Dazed and Confused got taken down!
koodles4you--Yeah, sometimes my invisible friend is there! His name is John Travolta, the miniature-pink-flying-elephant eater! Don't ask.
