“Stop, thief!” The butcher’s loud voice rings out over the commotions of the market places. I roll my eyes, and clutch the joint of steak tighter.
Why do people shout for thieves like me to stop when they steal things? Like I am just going to stop, hand over my only chance of a good meal tonight, and walk away.
I am actually far ahead of the fat butcher, who has to push his bulging stomach through the massive crowds of people. I, on the other hand, am weaving my way through the mob with ease. Being starving enough that I can count my own ribs has its advantages.
I duck under a low awning and crouch, brushing my thick, brown, shoulder-length hair out of my face, and turn around to see the shop owner, Toby, standing there, his hands on his hips. Normally, I would be alarmed by this, but Toby wears a face that is trying to be reproachful, even if his eyes disagree.
“Oh, Sage,” he says, shaking his head. “How early do you get up in the morning, just to steal things?”
I pretend to be offended. “I take issue with the word, ‘steal.’”
“Oh?”
“Yes, I do. It sounds so harsh. When people hear the word ‘steal’, they think of men, running around, taking things for no apparent reason.”
“Well,” Toby laughs, “You do that quite a lot.”
“No, I don’t!” I reply, “I don’t take things when I don’t have a reason to. I take things out of necessity.”
He rolls his eyes. “Well, if you don’t call it stealing, then what do you call it?”
“I borrow things.” I say promptly. “I borrow things permanently, without permission.”
He smirks. “You told me yesterday that you, ‘get people to unintentionally loan you things, and you intentionally forget to repay them.’”
“Same thing.”
“Fair enough,” He shrugs. “Well, you’d better get going. I don’t want to get caught hiding you.” I smile, and stand up. As I leave, he tosses me a peach. “You can borrow that too.” He smiles and turns back to his shop. “Thanks,” I say. I turn around, and run to the alleyways.
New York City has a lot of places for thieves and pickpockets to hide. The government gets fed up with the people who use them.
Funny enough, I am one of them.
There are piles of garbage, old crates, and a lot of other things to pile up and hide behind. There are thick walls that have had a lot of bricks fall out. They have small alcoves that can be climbed into, and used as a place to hide, or to sleep. There are so many things that the police and the authorities just overlook. They think that we homeless orphans and thieves spend our whole lives out in the open in the market. No, we can hide too.
They just think that we are dumb animals. But they couldn’t be more wrong.
I, myself, have a small indent in the wall that is covered by a bunch of rusted metal parts to various things that I would never understand. I only get that, when they are piled up, they make good cover. And right now, I need to find it.
My feet sting from all of the rocks and pebbles embedded in them. My legs burn from running so much, but I push forward. I slip into the small alley in between a bar and a clothes store. The store’s crumbling wall held my small alcove. And as soon as I get to it, I pull myself up.
Gingerly, I pull my right foot up, and examine it. There were small rocks poking into my skin, a few pieces of broken glass, and some shattered remains of a rusted metal bar. I carefully clean the cuts with some water from an old pipe that juts out of the wall, after I get the debris out. I treat my left foot similarly. By the time I am done, my feet feel like lead.
I hold up my new joint of freshly stolen steak. It is a decent size, and is probably enough for a few days of meals. I grin and wrap it up in some shreds of fabric. Then I pull a few bricks out, which covered a small hiding place in the wall, and stuffed the meat behind it. After I replaced the block, I dropped down to the ground, which made my feet scream in protest.
I get down on my hands and knees, and pull another loose brick out, uncovering a small set of musical pipes. I set them to my mouth and begin to play a short tune. It was a sharp little melody, yet most people won’t pay it any attention.
At least, the people I don’t want to pay it any attention.
I crouch at the corner of the clothes shop, waiting. Then I hear it. Another set of pipes chirping away another short song. I stand up, and peer onto the street. By habit, I turn my eyes to the large bank just across the street; specifically, the right-hand corner. I smile as I see a pair of large green eyes peak out. They watch me intently. I scan the crowd. I don’t see the butcher anywhere. Neither do I see the greengrocer anywhere, who apparently was a victim of theft as well today. I look back at the eyes. I give a nod, and a girl immerged from behind the bank. She slid through the crowd, keeping her head down, clutching a bulging sack in her hands. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see a tall, thin woman march briskly out onto the street, with an extremely angry expression. I quickly play the tune that signals danger to the girl. She looks up at me with a scared face. I point to the greengrocer, walking towards her. She gave a small yelp, and ran towards me. As soon as she is close enough, I grab her arm and yank her behind me.
“Seriously, Marlo?” I hiss to her, as I turn away, and lead her to the alcove. “You chose to steal stuff when that lady was there?”
Marlo looks at her feet. “I just saw an opportunity when she wasn’t looking, and I stole some food.”
“I don’t think there is a moment when she isn’t looking.” I mutter. “She is like a hawk!”
“Do you want the food or not?” Marlo says, rolling her eyes. “I got some salt too from the general store.”
I turn around, smiling. “Good, because I visited our dear friend, the butcher, today.”
Marlo’s eyes light up as I pull out the steak. “This’ll last for a long while!” I say, cheerfully.
“Wow Sage! “ Marlo cries, “How did you get that?”
I grin. “Let’s just say that the butcher was too busy cleaning up several pieces of chicken meat, which had fallen on the ground, to notice anything.”
Marlo laughs. “Sage, I don’t think that you’ll ever stop coming up with plans.”
“Marlo, I don’t ever plan things!” I say with mock surprise.
“Oh right,” Marlo giggles. “You just make it up.”
“Exactly!”
“Well then that’s probably all the better, seeing as people will have a hard time trying to guess your non-existent plan.”
I shake my head in disappointment. “I thought that you would have figured that out earlier than this.”
She shrugs. “Whatever. Now, I think it’s time to get cooking!”
I grin and climb back up to grab a few chips of flint from under the threadbare blanket, which carpets my alcove. In no time at all, the steak is sizzling over a small fire inside an old oil drum.
Marlo and I both dig in using our hands, and scraps of cardboard for plates. We sit on the edge of the alcove, our legs dangling over the edge, nibbling on our food. Marlo breaks the silence.
“Sage?”
“Yeah?”
“I’ve been thinking. Do you honestly think that we will spend the rest of our lives like this? Just steal to survive?”
I think for a moment. “I’m not sure. I don’t think that I will live like this forever. I’m sure eventually, I’ll end up doing something else.”
“But what? What will you do next?”
I remain silent.
“You know, there is a very good chance that we will be caught before we find out what that something is.” Marlo’s big eyes peer up into mine.
“By who?” I say, confused.
“As I was running from the general store salesmen, I heard a news reporter saying that, when the local orphanages discovered how many homeless orphans are in New York, they had sent out people to comb through the alleyways to find them and take them away.” Marlo smirks, “What was it they called it? Oh yeah, an ‘act of charity to those poor little helpless orphans suffering on the streets.’”
I roll my eyes. “They just don’t get it. We are fine on our own out here. To be honest, I think that we’re better off than those orphans in the orphanages.”
“I agree.” Marlo sighs. “We just need food, and those shop owners practically give that to us on a silver platter.”
“Yeah,” I murmur.
Marlo glances up at the sky, watching the glowing sun slip below the horizon, and a softly lit crescent moon rise to take its place. “It’s getting late.” She whispers. “I should probably get back. Remember, we eat at my place tomorrow.”
I grin, and nod. “You got it.”
Like cats, Marlo and I slide down from my alcove to the ground again. We creep over to the edge of the building, and scan for the crowd for danger. When we ensure the coast is clear, Marlo offers her hand to me.
“See you tomorrow,” She says confidently. I smile and take her hand. We shake, as I whisper, “Tomorrow.”
Marlo grins and begins to scurry back to the other side of the street to the bank. But as she reached the center of the street, something changes.
It’s like a blanket of cold filled the street. I think that Marlo feels it to, because she stops her sprint and begins to scan the street.
It is a moment too late when I realize.
I scream her name, just as two men run forward and snatch up her wrists. She screams and begins to struggle. I run towards her, but she locks eyes with me as I do so. One clear message burns in them, and I can tell that it hurts her.
‘Go.’
I skid to a halt, and see two more thugs running at me. I turn around and run.
As I run past my alcove, I manage to grab hold of the blanket. Unfortunately, that also causes the steak leftovers to fall into a pile of junk. I don’t have time to get it. I don’t have time to get anything else. I just keep running. I weave through building after building. And as I do so, I realized that Marlo isn’t the only victim.
Streets are filled with small orphans running, and one by one, getting captured by large men, who pull them away like small dogs.
My own pursuer is apparently not very fit, because he runs out of breath soon, and gives up. I quickly think of escape routs from the city into the countryside. I can’t stay in the city. That’s were all of the people are searching. No, I must go to a place that I have never been to before.
I hear a shout from behind me. Two more guys are barreling towards me. I sprint towards the north-east part of town, where a hidden footpath is. I don’t even hesitate, but jump right in. for some reason, they don’t follow me. Maybe they just want to catch more kids. One kid, more or less, what’s the difference?
I follow the footpath, scared and shocked. I don’t know where this path leads to, but I don’t care.
Hour after hour goes by, and I still haven’t found anything. My feet, bare and cold, are aching. My eyes are heavy, and the blanket, which I have draped around my shoulders, does little to keep out the biting cold. But I press on.
Finally, I see a small bit of light. I stagger towards it, energy flooding out of me with every step. Iron gates stand in the entrance, but they are wide open, as if they are welcoming me. It’s been a long time since I have been invited anywhere.
I just manage to limp past the gates before my feet refuse to carry me anymore. My legs buckle, and my vision blurs. As I pass out, I have time to process two things. One, the great oak doors in front of me open, and a figure runs out to me, shouting for help. And also, at the topmost spire of the building, there is a cross.
****************************************************************************
I wake up in a small room. My head spins as I sit up. Someone had put me in this bed, and left me there for the night. My ears ring and I feel slightly dizzy. I manage to get myself into a standing position, and I slowly make my way out of the door.
I find myself in a long hallway. It is softly lit, and quiet. I turn right and walk down. Eventually, I get to the end, which leads into a small courtyard. Ivy grows everywhere. It crawls along the floor, loops around the trees, and stretches its spider-like hands all over the walls. Beautiful.
Then, like the songs of the birds in the branches, I hear a song echo through the halls. I run as fast as my legs will allow me to the source of the singing. I find it in an enormous sanctuary. It is obvious to me where I am. I have been brought to a church. I have never been in one before, and I’m not sure what I think of it.
“Ah, you’re awake, my dear.” A kind, soft voice says from behind me. I whirl around, to see an old, short woman standing, with her hands folded, and a smile playing across her lips. “Are you well?”
I look at her. I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know if I want to say anything. I just stare.
“Ah, you are a quiet little one.” She says. “I think it would be best if we went back to your room. You seem a bit light-headed.”
I blink. I do feel light-headed, but why does that warrant me to go back to my room? But I just follow the woman without question.
As we walk, the old woman keeps one hand on my shoulder. Her hand is smooth and small. It is warm and comforting.
When we make it to the room, I collapse into the bed. She pulls a wooden rocking chair up next to me, and puts a hand on my forehead. I look up into her deep blue eyes, as they begin to fill with sadness.
“Child, what has happened to you?”
My hands begin to shake. She smiles. “You can trust me my dear. If you don’t want me to tell anyone, I won’t.”
My eyes sting with tears. “How do I know that?”
She brushes my hair out of my face. “I am the one who brought you hear and nursed you back to health. I have helped you already.”
****************************************************************************
I have been at the church for about 3 days, spending most of the time alone, or with Ms. Julie, the old woman. I went into the sanctuary only once, because Ms. Julie had nearly begged me to. I couldn’t even stay awake all the way through the sermon. I refused to go after that. I know that ‘it was right to go,’ but I had heard a part of the sermon that had said that we shouldn’t be tied to a specific place to worship. Why does that not apply here?
Ms. Julie didn’t try to persuade me after that.
But now, I think that it is time that I left. Ms. Julie has told me many times that it would not be advisable to leave. I can tell that she thinks that I can’t take care of myself, even though that I have explained to her countless times that I have done just that for about ten years. My mother died when I was just two from illness, and my father died in a house fire when I was about four. The government would have put me in an orphanage, but I was saved by a gang of kids, who invited me into their group. I stayed with them for a few years, then I set off on my own when I was seven and I have lived with Marlo ever since for 6 years. I have always lived a rough life.
Dawn is just breaking when I get out of bed. I take a small knapsack that I had found yesterday, and fill it with some food that I had smuggled out of the kitchen. I put on the old boots that the church gave me, and silently open the door. I steal through the hallways, and slip out through the big front door. I run down the path, and just as I reach the open gates, I hear her.
“You were going to leave without saying goodbye?” Ms. Julie smiles, and walks over to me, my old blanket from my alcove draped over her arm.
“You forgot something.” She says, handing me the blanket. I accept it, almost stunned. “You came after me?” I whisper. “Did I wake you up?”
“No,” Ms. Julie says, thoughtfully, “I’m just a very light sleeper, and had the luck of being in the sanctuary as you ran by. I noticed you didn’t have that blanket, and I knew a short-cut to the entrance.”
“I knew that you probably wouldn’t want me to go, but I don’t belong here.” I say. ”I have lived all of my life out on the streets, fending for myself. It doesn’t feel right here.”
“Danger isn’t always the way to go.” Ms. Julie murmurs. “You don’t have to live like that.” I shake my head. “That safe life isn’t mine.”
“Then may the Lord bless you and keep you.” Ms. Julie says, taking my hand tight in hers, and bowing her head, “May the Lord make his face shine upon you, and be gracious unto you. May the Lord turn his face toward you, and give you peace, both now and forevermore. Amen.”
Her blue eyes lock onto my green ones. “Remember, Sage. God is your guide. He will help you. He will carry you and care for you. Do not forget about him. He will never forget about you. And if you make mistakes, He will always forgive you.”
“I’ve made too many mistakes to be forgiven.”
“The number of faults does not matter.” She whispers, “The only thing that does matter is whether we choose to accept his forgiveness.”
I nod, and walk through the gates.
****************************************************************************
I wish that those good for nothing orphanage thugs had just left. I wish that they had just given up on finding any more orphans who are perfectly content with their current home.
I can just picture my own luck just turning to me saying, ‘Sorry, but no.”
The whole city is filled with them. I am lucky enough that they do not immediately single me out as an orphan. At first, I am confused, as I could have sworn that at least one of them must have seen me, but then I remember my clothes. The church had provided a simple green dress for me to wear, in place of the rags that I had dressed in before. I guess I look clean and nice enough to pass as a normal girl. I walk down the cracked sidewalk to the middle of town. What I see there is shocking.
About two dozen orphans are being loaded into large trucks, and driven away to the orphanage. I stare at it, horrorstruck. I don’t see one child there that isn’t crying. It is because of this that I make the decision. The decision to go rescue Marlo.
****************************************************************************
I don’t take much. Just a Swiss army knife, a length of cord, my pipes, and my knapsack. I wait until it is dark, then I run up the road to where the orphanage is. It passes the church, and when it does, I resist the urge to stop.
The prison, um… excuse me; orphanage is a large ugly, square building. Most of the dorms are on the third floor. I know this because I was once in here. I escaped by pretending to go to the bathroom, and using the nail file that I had slipped off of the headmistress’ desk to break the glass pane on the window to escape. But they showed me everything beforehand.
If memory serves me correctly, the newer arrivals would have been on the edge, which is good news for me. I sneak towards the edge of the building, and raise my pipes to my lips. The old tune I had used to call her wafts through the air. Marlo was taken only what, four days ago? Five? I don’t know. But Marlo doesn’t answer. I play it again a few times, just to be sure, but no one answers. I run to the back of the building, and try again. But still, no answer. I go all the way around the place, but Marlo doesn’t hear me. I don’t want to go inside. But I can’t find her outside. I am lost for a few moments, but then I spot a small ledge on the building, just below the windows. I take out the cord, tie a quick slip knot, and hurl it at the wall. It doesn’t catch on anything, but I know that this wall is riddled with nails and uneven bricks that could be used for an anchor point. It takes me a few tries, but soon, I have my rope looped around a brick that was jutting out of the wall. I yank on it to ensure that it is tight enough, and then I start to climb. The rope is coarse enough to keep a firm grip, and bit by bit, I manage to pull myself up onto the ledge. I untie the rope so that I can use it again to get down, and I slide my way across every window I come to, I peek in, and none of them are Marlo’s. I then take the chance of going down a level. Nothing. I sigh. There is hardly ever someone on the first floor, but they might have run out of room on the other floors. I drop down to the ground, and, to my delight, and yet, fear. Marlo is there, yes, but she also has three older girls as room mates. All four of them are sleeping on old cots in the middle of the room. I tap on the window. Marlo stirs. I tap again. I see her slowly open her eyes. I tap again, and one of the older girls flinches in her sleep. Marlo squints over at the window, still unable to see, as it is probably about four in the mourning. But I know when she realizes just who is outside her window. She scrambles to her feet and tip toes over the sleeping girls. The window is yanked up, and Marlo’s face peers out of it.
“Sage?” she whispers. “Is that you?” I smile. “Of course it is, did you really think that I would just leave you behind?”
Tears stream down Marlo’s face, “Thank you.” I clasp her hand tightly. “Don’t worry. We’re gonna get you out of here.”
“How?” She whispers. “I cant fit through this window, and both the front door, and our room door, are locked.”
“Don’t you worry,” I say, holding up the Swiss army knife. She gives a shaky laugh. “How did you get your hands on that, Sage?” I grin, “Let’s just say I borrowed this.” We both exchange smiles at the old joke. “I’ll get your door in just a minute.” I say quickly. “What is your room number?”
“57,” She replies. “I’ll get ready.”
I nod, and run to the front. The old door locks tumblers are soft. I just use a couple of attachments of the army knife, and I am in. I tread on the threadbare carpet, sliding through the hallways. I count the numbers engraved on the old wooden doors.
’33…35…37…39…’
I keep running.
The door to Room 57 is also easy to pick open. I open the door, and immediately, Marlo rushes into my arms. We stand there for a moment, hugging each other, and then we break away. I take Marlo’s hand, after we are careful to close and lock the door. The big doors hung open, and we hurried through them. I lock them again, and, hand in hand, we run for it.
I don’t remember all of it, but eventually we catch the attention of some of the orphanage thugs. Soon, we are running for our lives. Marlo clings to me like a lifeline.
We keep running.
Then, time slows down. We are approaching a literal crossroad, and I am approaching a mental one. Soon, the road will split in two; one fork goes to the city, one to the church. What way do we turn? What path do I follow? The city is where I have sought refuge my whole life, but the church was where I was loved and cared for. Marlo doesn’t even know the church. I don’t know what she will want.
“May the Lord bless you and keep you…” Ms. Julie had said. Oh Lord, I may have not thought much of you before now, but please, I need your help now.
“He will never forget you.”
Do I go where I am loved, or with what I know.
“Danger isn’t always the way to go.”
Help me.
“Where are you going?” Marlo shouts. “The city is the other way!”
“The city isn’t safe. I know a place that is.”
We keep running.
****************************************************************************
Epilogue
One year later…
This Sunday was beautiful. The birds chirped in the courtyard, the sun shone through the windows in the sanctuary, and the candles shone brighter than ever. As always, I dress in the Acolyte robe and head down to the service. Today, Marlo will help with Communion. I will be the light-bearer. I hold the candle out to be lit, and, to begin the service, I slowly walk to the Alter at the front of the church, and light the candles. And after blowing out my own candle, I sit in the front pew next to Marlo. As the pastor opens the service, Marlo leans towards me.
“Today is our Acolyte anniversary, isn’t it?” she whispers. I nod. “Yeah, I can’t believe that it’s been a full year.”
“Well, we spent our whole lives in the city.” She says, smiling. I grin back. “Yeah, but here is nicer.”
“No one yelling at you because you stole a steak, or bread, or something.”
“I like things better here.” I say, nodding. We are actually liked here.”
“Did I tell you that I saw the orphanage headmistress last week?” I raise my eyebrows. “Really?”
“Yup,” Marlo nods. “I don’t think that she recognized me though.”
“Well, you were one out of about a thousand orphans that she has seen.” I say, giggling. Marlo smiles. “Well, I’m just glad that that part of our life is over.”
“Me too, Marlo.” I whisper, as the pastor begins his sermon. “Me too.”
During that sermon, I never fell asleep once.