Untitled (standard:drama, 2346 words)
Author: Rebecca	Added: Jan 27 2003	Views/Reads: 3271/2366	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Homeless teenagers in the 80's.

I was finally going home.  After four years I was going to see the
family I ran away from.  I never would have left if I had known what 
awaited me in New York City.  And the funniest thing was after all I'd 
been through; I'd never been so scared in my entire life. It was 1985, 
in the decade of teen angst, and I was unhappily living in Suburbia, 
New York.  My parents and I fought everyday and it often got physical.  
I can't even count how many times I had “accidentally” gotten a black 
eye or broken bone.  Dad was an alcoholic, Mom was in denial, my sister 
was too young and me, I was the perfect target.  I'd finally had enough 
and I knew just what to do. While everyone was asleep I packed a bag of 
clothes, stole my dad's wallet, and ran out of the house towards the 
train station.  Before I knew it I was heading to the city.  What would 
my parents say when they realize that I'm gone?  Probably only, 
“Where's my wallet?”  Suddenly amidst my thoughts the train whistled 
and slowed to a stop.  I took a deep breath and stepped off the train 
to a new environment.  Surprised couldn't even describe how I felt when 
I saw the subway.  People in raggedy, moth eaten, dirty clothes lay all 
over the ground.  Also, the smell made my stomach churn.  I rushed out 
of there as fast as I could without tripping over someone. When I 
reached the outside I really wished I'd stayed in the station.  People 
were everywhere and I had no idea where I was going.  “Excuse me,” I 
said as I tapped a person walking by on the shoulder, “Can you point me 
in the direction of a place I could stay?  I'm visiting the city for 
the first time.”  The man stood tall, hovering over me.  He was wearing 
a nice suit and seemed superior to the other people I had spotted.  My 
thoughts suddenly changed as he gave me a dirty look, “Go to hell!” he 
said and walked off.  I traveled around for two hours before I found a 
halfway decent motel.  A girl who looked barely older than me sat at 
the front desk popping her gum and chatting away on the phone.  I 
cleared my throat and still she pretended that I wasn't there.  Finally 
I snatched the phone from her hand and threw it down on the receiver.  
She shot me an angry look, “I don't know who you think you are...” I 
cut her off, not wanting to hear what she had to say.  “I've had a 
really long night and I'd really just like to get a room.”  I paid and 
she tossed my key to me, “Go straight through that hallway, your is the 
last room on the left.”  The place was tiny and hardly worth the $15 I 
had to pay.  I knew that my money would never last like this. I pulled 
on my favorite pair of stone washed jeans and a flannel shirt and ran 
across the street to the grocery store I saw on my way.  I didn't have 
much money and I needed to conserve so I bought sandwich fixings, 
cereal, milk, and plastic silverware.  On my way back to the motel, my 
hands full of bags, I bumped into a girl who could have been a Madonna 
look-alike but younger.  “Watch where you're going,” the girl spoke 
harshly.  But when she looked at me her tone suddenly changed and she 
quickly apologized, “Oh man, look, I'm real sorry.  I didn't mean...” 
“It's okay,” I interrupted, “I should be more careful.  I'm just not 
used to all these people.” “Really?  Where are you from?” “Suburbia.” 
“Wow, that's cool.  I've never heard of the place myself but its got to 
be better than here.  So what brings you to this dump?” “Well, it's a 
long story but basically I ran away, and here I am.” Cool beans!” She 
paused sounding sad, “I guess you should probably get your things 
inside.”  “Yeah, I should.  Why don't you come inside?  I could sure 
use some company.”  “Okay.”  We walked into the motel and talked for 
hours, finding conversation easily.  I told her about my money running 
low and she said she had an idea. “See I make money real easy, a good 
$300 a day.” “Well what exactly do you do?” “I'm a prostitute.”  When 
she said that my face turned so pale I could feel it.  I couldn't 
imagine selling my body on the street just to have a place to stay and 
food in my belly.  But before I knew it that was exactly what I was 
doing. I sat outside in a pink miniskirt and a black ripped up shirt 
with big, beaded necklaces and high heels.  My hair was long and piled 
on top of my head with big, curled-under bangs.  I think I spent more 
money on hairspray that I did on food.  Heidi, who was the girl who I 
had met outside the motel, had really helped me.  She introduced me to 
so many cool people including her boyfriend, Frank.  We would hang out 
all the time and not really doing much but smoking pot and drinking.  I 
was also making quite a bit more money than I was used to and it was a 
long awaited thrill.  Frank was really cool.  He was defiantly someone 
I would have never met if I hadn't ran away and in a way I was glad I 
did.  He was about average height with turquoise colored hair and he 
dresses in the oddest way.  Frank and Heidi were on the streets for the 
same reason that she was; they couldn't take home life anymore and came 
to the Big Apple.  I was getting bored with things though, and Frank 
introduced me to the greatest thing in the entire world, Heroin.  I 
never saw the world so beautiful until I shot up for the first time.  


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