RolePlayGateway™

Her eyes flicked instantly over to Tyler. The leader. Group creator. Group savior. He evaded her understand more than anyone. Why would he want to run this show? Why would he want to lead this life with these kids? In the manner that he called himself the 'head' of the group, he was like Tarik.

That's how Amisha saw everyone.

A little like Tarik, a lot like Tarik, or maybe like Ambar- Tarik's sister and her best friend.

When Tyler explained, she bowed her head a bit, respectfully acknowledging his answer. A day to celebrate the country? India had days like that too, but New Delhi was bigger than New York, and much more populated a city. And their celebrations were instantly noticed. But here, Americans slipped to and fro without care.

This country was both common and so very foreign.

Cole corrected Tyler, and Amisha raised her head just a tiny bit, to see the teen speak. He had an interesting education. Amisha only knew of India. A little about the history, but not much. She knew how to survive in a lot worse condition than now though, that was for sure. But, she didn't know how to live alone. That's why she needed the group. After all that had happened, Amisha would just let herself die on her own. Without others around to make her behave, she'd lose her mind. Little by little...

Another set of characters came. A young boy. He had a strange walk, one that reminded Amisha of a gangster or something. The boy's shades and his very presence, it was comical. But it reminded her a lot of something...


"What's poppin' my girls?" Tarik chuckled, stepping under the wide bridge's edge, towards the point where it lead into the ground. The forty degree angle was big enough to lay palettes out and be safe of cars, as well as crazy child-laborers. They could do it alone. They didn't need anyone. Just the three of them. The way it had always been.

Ambar was his sister, with short black hair with curls at the end. She was a priss, kind of like Brooklyn. She rolled her eyes as he approached, but Amisha was more excited than anything. She always felt relieved when he came back, because she was always scared he'd... Scared he'd...


Mind snapping back, Amisha blinked a few times to get rid of the dry almost teary reminiscence. Taking a long drawn out breath, she turned her attention to Tyler with a faint smile.

"I... It's okay Tyler," she began, wrapping her mind around his name, "I'll go with you guys, I haven't really hung out with you all lately..."

Another came. A girl, following the boy. Amisha turned her head again, staring now with a slight chuckle. Maybe she shouldn't turn away again, who knew what was next?

Amisha sighed gently, folding her arms over her chest, feeling her depression eating away at her insides. No one knew her story. Only two people, and they were both dead. In a way, she was afraid to tell anyone. It might make it hurt worse, to let the world know she was broken and angry and hurt and sorrowful, and without repair anymore.

Her eyes fell back to the ground, staring at each gravel and bit of dirt she could see. Everything was such a haze. The present was so indistinct, yet her past was crisp and clear. A dream she dreamed every so often. So very often. . .

Lifting her eyes, she watched Hope and Joleigh bicker slightly. The three girls (Joleigh, Hope, and Brooklyn) always seemed to bicker amongst themselves. But Amisha didn't like to get involved in it all. Instead she'd just keep quiet. Keep to herself. Stay out of the drama. Amisha was not a dramatic person. Inside there was turmoil, but on the outside, Amisha only let vague looks of nostalgia cross her gray hues. And that might be the only hint of what trouble crossed her path long ago...

Amisha turned her head upwards again, to the setting sun. What was it now? Five? Five-thirty? She couldn't tell. Amisha had no watch, no phone, no ability to tell time beyond her method in India, which was simply watching the sun.

Her stomach grumbled and she settled a hand against it. She hadn't eaten much of anything today beside a tangerine from the Black Light. But food wasn't exactly what she wanted. Amisha wanted peace of mind. Somewhat, she wanted to go back to India. But the memories would be stronger there, and there was no real way for her to go back. In all honesty, when she ran away from her foster parents, she put herself in more danger. If the police ever got to her, knew her story, her identity, they would... deport her... Imprison her... For what? She wasn't sure. Americans worked in strange ways.

"When are we going?" Amisha said, slipping back to the festival, or whatever it was.

She brushed her hands over her smooth dark jeans and brought her arms to fold over her fitted white shirt. It wasn't a look of impatience, or ignorance. Instead, it was a look of solace. Almost like she were cold, though the July weather was far from such. Her fingers wrapped around her upper arms and she seemed to shift uncomfortably. At times, when she looked up, she saw it.

They all looked at her, and wondered where she was from. What had happened to her. Natural curiosity.

And she had told no one. How much longer could she keep it up, before they grew outraged with her silence?

Amisha just turned her eyes away, staring back at the ground, deep black hair falling somewhat smoothly around her face.

She watched as people began to jump the dumpster, readying to go. She shook her head, leaning away from her place, and the fence. Amisha decided she'd go on and follow them, especially since Tyler, the leader, had jumped over with them.

As Amisha reached the dumpster, she smiled just barely. Images flashed through her mind...

"C'mon Amisha!" Said Tarik, smiling profusely. He walked towards the edge of the roof, and put his hands on the edge, smiling over it. In the slums of New Delhi, the living complexes were tightly packed. He raised his left hand, and waved it. Amisha stared at his back, stepping closer to him. They she was fourteen, and he was about to turn sixteen. He was handsome, to her. Shaggy black hair, slightly growing into curls, and deep umber skin from all the sunlight. And his body was wiry and lanky, but he had a lot of muscle for a homeless kid his age.

In seconds, he jumped; legs flying over the edge and his hand disappearing. He gave out a cheerful yell of excitement, and Amisha raced to the edge of the roof. And she grabbed the edge in a sleek secondary motion, and slung her legs over, falling to the tin roof beneath, and the two began jumping down, from building to building, shed to shed, down to the alleys...

"Hey! Wait for me!" Ambar would call, far behind...



She gripped the edge of the dumpster a bit tighter, and slung her legs up on it, moving in sleek professional motions to jump over it. It was far from jumping slum buildings, but she was good nonetheless. In small ways, she showed how she might have lived on the streets her entire life. Different things she did and knew that showed she had street knowledge. She could do and know things that no one else knew.

Landing perfectly on the palms of her feet, she walked forward. Amisha passed Tyler just barely in long strides, and then made it so that she was between everyone, so that she had space to breathe and think to herself.

"Where is the harbor?" Amisha turned her head just slightly back to Tyler, looking up at him through dim gray hues.

She was walking patiently when an arm slid up around her. Amisha felt her body jump, and she wanted to shoot off into a sprint when she felt it. But she didn't. The arm was tiny, one of the girls.
Turning her head downward, she saw it wasn't one of the girls. It was Joel. She stared at him and tried not to roll her eyes. That would've been rude.

Amisha stared at the boy for a minute, unsure of what to say to the child. She was much older than him, at least in her mind she was. Finally she lifted her arm and put it on his shoulder, about to push him just gently enough to get him to move his arm and understand that she didn't feel like being touched or hugged or whatever.

But another pushed into her, much stronger than the push she was about to give to Joel. This time, she turned her head after stumbling and saw Joleigh moving forward. Amisha found herself frozen in place, looking down at Joel after having those gray hues follow Joleigh.

"P-please don't touch me Joel... Please..."
Just leave me alone.

She winced at how mean the thought sounded. Amisha didn't want to be rejected from the group, so she behaved. She was afraid of confrontation anyway, even with a kid younger than her.


Amisha stepped back, turning around and walking until she was a good fifteen feet away from anyone at all. And she dug her hand into her pocket, digging out a Prozac to calm her down from the panicky depression she felt coming on like a tsunami. She popped it between he lips and swallowed it dry, wincing again.

Her hands fell against her stomach, then rose to grip her head as she took another breath.

"And don't call me 'babe'..." She muttered quietly, looking up and deciding to slowly follow the group as long as she could stay at the back, and away from the rest of them.