Sweet Sick Teen 56

When it came to begging on the streets, the one-armed Homeless Man was her biggest obstacle. Everywhere she went, he always seemed to be around. And whenever he saw the Girl, no matter how far away she was, he would get close, waving his arm and stump until she was scared off.

“Why are you following me?”, she asked.

“I’m not following you! You’re the one following me!”

Once she was out of his range of sight, he would beg by laying his jacket and sitting in the middle of the street where passerbys walked, always hanging around the coldest places to gain sympathy. He would swing his arms while ranting, making it impossible to avoid seeing him, even as everyone averted their eyes. How could she possibly compete with that?

Her only recourse was to bargain with restaurants to prevent her from standing in front of their establishments, staring mournfully at customers as they stuffed their palates. She managed to put up a strong front no thanks to her strong odor, but soon, she ran out of places to harass, and grew hungry again. Most of them didn’t even bother negotiating with her anyways, preferring to scare her off instead.

The weather conditions didn’t improve matters any. There were strong winds that made the forces in the Gravity Zone seem tame in comparison. Seeking shelter on those days was widely sought since garbage bins could be seen flying around. To give an idea of how strong these winds were, those bins were FULL.

To protect against these hostile elements, the Girl had bundled up all her remaining clothes to cover her swelling belly, and the multiple layers still wasn’t enough. Despite being malnourished, her growing belly continued to swell despite all attempts to refuse. She was reduced to wearing garbage bags for insulation.

For the longest time, she never understood the big fuss made about socks. What did it matter if there was a hole in the underside of them? As long as she kept her feet firmly planted to the ground and didn’t bother lifting them, no one would ever tell the difference. Besides, her feet were obscured by her shoes, which would smell anyways. And the holes made getting rid of loose pebbles and bunched fibres from the inside much easier.

Now, in these unfavorable conditions, she understood why. The constant changing weather made keeping her feet dry a perpetual uphill battle. She’d have to take her shoes off, wring them out and replace them, saving the fancy socks reserved for good company.

She would never outright admit it, but the undamaged socks felt more comfortable.

And then one day, while taking an uncomfortable and well-needed nap in an alcove, her bag was stolen. She made a half-hearted concentrated effort to hold her grip on the strap, but in her addled half-awake state, she was in no condition to put up much resistance, and saw all her worldly belongings disappear down the corner.

She numbly stared at the spot where her beloved bag had once been. She’d feel the sting of loss later. What really rankled her was that she didn’t even get to use half the stuff that was still in there, including the food she’d been saving for later. Inwardly, she hoped that whoever stole her stuff would suffer a horrible fate from using her odor-eaters without her permission.

Any emergency rations she’d hidden on her person had already been used up, but she still searched her pockets in the hope that maybe, just maybe, there was some unexplored corner she’d somehow missed that would solve all her problems. Nope. Still empty.

She should’ve eaten as much as she could’ve gotten her hands on as soon as possible, instead of saving it for a rainy day. The only tasty things around were the pointed edges of her hood which she sucked to wean the hunger off, and even that was beginning to lose its lustre. To make matters worse, the sun was shining, which didn’t reflect her current mental state at all. The weather should match how she was feeling, damn it!

No, wait, she didn’t want the weather to do that at all! She suddenly changed her mind upon being faced with a miniature hurricane barrelling her way.

When the wind and storm died down, she crept out of her hiding place. She wearily slumped on the bench, her feet wet again with no way to replace them, her strength that’d been on a gradual decline over the past few days now taking its toll. She’d been chased off if she lingered in an area for too long. She struggled to remain upright and look like she was deciding where to go next, even though she had no idea of where to go. Ironically enough, now that she was free to go anywhere she wanted, she felt intimidated for choice, and felt compelled to wander familiar spaces. In the face of true freedom, her worldview became smaller.

She wavered in and out of consciousness, her head bobbing in a futile attempt to stay awake even as she needed sleep. She expected to be rudely awoken any moment now, and had to savour the moment however brief. Sure enough, her concentration was broken, but not with a rude push, demanding that she leave, but a gentle nudging on her shoulder, to which she responded, giving the stranger a weary bleary look.

“Ed??”

“No, I’m not. Are you alright?”

It wasn’t the Pale Boy. It wasn’t the Gloved Man either. It was a man she’d never seen before, who looked on her with concern. She backed away from him. From past experience, it was better not to be around people.

“What do you want??”, she snapped.

“To know if you’re okay.”

She eyed him with suspicion. People didn’t go ‘round helping the homeless without good reason. Especially foul-smelling people like her. He didn’t seem at all bothered by her smell, yet was keeping a respectable distance. She wrapped her arms around her.

“I’m perfectly fine. I can take care of myself.”

This was a laughable position to take, given her current predicament. She should’ve been willing to accept any offer of assistance, but insisted on making things as difficult as possible. Some small part of her felt that if she spouted that last line, she would instantly become self-dependent and not have to rely on others. Still, she regarded the man with skepticism.

“Really? You don’t look too good.”

“I can handle mys...” she started, but faltered, her unsteady balance betraying her convictions, and was saved from slamming against the hard surface from the man’s outstretched arm.

“There’s no shame in admitting you need help. You don’t need to ask.” The man handed over a packaged meal he’d been carrying in a cache. The Girl stared at this offering with abject longing.

“How much?”

“Nothing. It’s free.”

She eyed the food with skepticism, having been burned once too often. Seeing she wasn’t rising up, the Samaritan took a bite himself.

“See, it’s safe. Nothing to worry about.”

After what felt like hours but was actually five seconds, the Girl snatched the food, turned away and started chewing enthusiastically. Even though she was ravenous, she still felt the need not to let anyone see her eat. Old habits die hard. Once she’d eaten her fill, she looked at the Samaritan again. He was still sitting opposite her.

“Feeling better?”

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch. I want to protect the thing that’s growing inside you. And for that, I need to make sure that you’re feeling good as well.”

She looked over the Samaritan warily. “Why are you doing this for me?”

The Samaritan seemed surprised. “Isn’t it natural to look after someone who needs help? And you are with child, child.”

She grimaced, wrapping her arms around her belly. Even with the bulk of clothes covering her bulge, her stomach was still noticeable.

“I still don’t know anything about you.”

“I’m a Protist. I’m part of a group that believes that all life is precious and worth saving. We’re devoted to the protection of extremely rare creatures, especially those that don’t exist yet.”

The Girl let out a sigh of relief. This was a promising sign. If these people valued life, then it sounded like they’d be willing to take this thing off her hands.

“So, you’re not interested in me, you’re interested in my baby?”

“That’s the general gist, yes.”

“If you want it, I don’t mind being a surrogate. Could you tell me more?”

“I’ll do better than that. I’ll show you a place you can feel comfortable.”

The Samaritan extended his palm, and the Girl willingly grabbed it. Then she spent a minute or two struggling to stand up. The Samaritan offered to help, but the Girl insisted on doing it herself. “I can do it!”

Once she finally got back on her feet, they were on their way, and the Samaritan started espousing his philosophy.

“Are you aware that there’s only one Odradek left in existence, and when it dies out, there’ll be none left?”

“Really? I thought those things were basically immortal.”

“Don’t be foolish. They’re as mortal as you and me, albeit with an extended life line.”