Snippet #1540114

There was something wrong with her. She was just a glutton for punishment. The young Native woman listened to how her boss screamed at her, watched as his arms flailed and threatened to hit her, ignored him as he threatened to fire her. Yes, she could be fired. She was underage, working in a restaurant for very little pay and she was a runaway. Yes, she could be fired, but did she care? No. There were other jobs. Other slums that she could slink through. If there was one thing that she had gotten good at, it was at surviving. “Yeah, I know,” she said finally, ducking as one of his meaty fists swung at her. She was nimble and knew what blows to dodge and what blows to take. “You leave a mark and you’ll make the customers angry,” she pointed out to him, “less money,” she spat out. She was underage, her boss didn’t have to pay her as much as he paid others. He could dock her tips more because “she didn’t pay taxes” and if she didn’t like it, what was she going to do? Go to the cops?

Runaway.

Such a negative word for such a strong individual. She wasn’t a victim. Never had been. When her family life turned too bad, she left. Her goal was to find her father, her birth father, a native man like her. She had met him once when she was younger and she remembered how good he was. She remembered that he loved her, and that he hadn’t wanted her to leave. There was nothing manipulative in his actions. He was just… there. Her father. Someone who wanted her. The only person in the world that did.

So, she ran with a dream in her heart, but she didn’t let herself get carried away. She stopped and worked. She remembered to eat. She squatted in houses, kept away from the dealers and the illicit users of both drugs and people. Everything she did was with a cold amount of logic. She trusted no one. She worked for her dream and didn’t allow herself to forget it.

Yet, while she didn’t forget the dream, everything she did was for survival so that she could reach her dream. She kept her long, thick black hair cut short so that no one could grab it when she was running. Her pants were tight, harder to pull off, her shirt was baggy to hide her chest. Her money was split between her right and left boots and her boots were always laced tight. She stole money from her bosses’ till. She skimmed off of the top when she had to give to the bartender. She, and her street companions Maggie and Tio, worked in a well oiled unit. She ran into someone, to provide the distraction. Maggie lifted the wallet and tossed it to Tio. Tio took the money and got rid of the wallet. There was always three of them. They were a gang: Aidan, the waitress. Maggie, the stealer, and Tio, the manipulator. They were careful, and all three wanted to get back to their tribes.

Aidan moved ahead of the others and when she was settled, the other two would move in. That way, they wouldn’t be caught together. Aidan didn’t want to go back to the ward, Maggie didn’t want to go back to her mother and Tio didn’t want to go back to the Detention center.

Aidan felt the card that she had found in the street. A location scrawled on from a runaway that she had helped out of a bind. It was to a church, just for runaways. She grimaced. She hated the Anglos churches and their religions, but if she would be safe, she would go there. She listened to her boss one last time before she turned her back on him and walked out. He wouldn’t stop her. He wasn’t stupid. She was replaceable, expendable. She was nothing. She was worth nothing. She was no better than the dirt that people walked on. Less than dirt. She heard it all before.

So, she set off towards the address that she had. Who knows whether she was going to stay but she would squat there until she could contact Maggie and Tio and get them to come up. She ignored the pain that came from walking on change and dollars. Each step was agonizing but it was better than getting her money taken. Finally, she arrived at the church and sat on the front steps. She’d go in later, when she was sure that she was going to stay.

Until then, the Native woman, Aidan “Blue Jay” Levenque, leaned back and looked towards the sky, waiting for night so that she could see the path that her ancestors took.

{All of my intro posts tend to be longer. Oh well. None of the other posts will reach that length. Maybe 2-4 paragraphs since I still have to make up character sheets for Maggie and Tio.