Painting Part one

Danny glared down at his feet. The police station smelled of cigar smoke and stale coffee. Police officers drifted around occasionally swearing at each other. Even so it seemed like a haven compare to what was undoubtedly waiting for him at home.

He stretched his legs, dieing to get up and walk around. How long had he been sitting here? Two hours? More?

At the other end of the bench he sat on was a girl about his age. Unlike him, who looked only like a punk kid at most, she looked like real trouble and he wondered if she had been here before. She had been here longer than him and had also not uttered a word since he saw her.

“What are you in for?” she asked, a line he would have failed miserably to pull off.

“Shoplifting.” He muttered shortly. He was afraid to ask her the same question because, although they were about the same height, she could probably beat him up with her hands tied.

“I was trying to run away.” she said quietly. She was wearing a black leather jacket and tight black jeans and she had black highlights in her white-blond hair. The very definition of, what had that police man called him again, oh right, bummer.

“I’ve seen you at school haven’t I.” He asked. “You
always sit on that bench…alone.” She scowled at the floor.

“What else do you know about me?” She said harshly. Danny quickly reviewed what he had heard about her in his head, deciding on what he would actually tell her.

“Those boys, you know them ones who skate board down the halls?” From the look on her face it was apparent she did.
“They say some bad stuff about you.” He said. The guys Danny mentioned were bad news plain and simple. Guys you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley.



The girl narrowed her eyes.

“I’ll have to get on that.” She muttered to herself. Just then a police officer came into the room.

“Anastasia?” He called “Your foster mother is here to get you.” She slowly got up and grabbed the backpack carrying the belongings she had tried to bring with her.

“See you in school.” She muttered before slipping out the door.

“It’s kind of ironic really.” Danny thought later that night as he bit into a PB&J. As penalty for stealing his father had suspended his breakfast and dinner for a week, which Danny was getting around by stealing from the fridge. Over the years of punishment he had gotten pretty good at it. He had gotten in jail for stealing and here he was stealing again.

He found his mind drifting back to the girl. He had told her about “them” as shortly as possible but in his head he reviewed what he really knew. She didn’t have many friends and she got bad grades but the teachers insisted that she was very smart but she just wasn’t trying.

Danny snorted. He knew why she didn’t try. Because people who do try get hurt, although Danny had trouble picturing Anyone under the age of twenty five hurting Anastasia and getting away with it.

He shrugged and bit into his sandwich it wasn’t his business anyway. Better to let it drop.





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