Chapter Text
I walked down the street. I think that's how it started. All these things got mixed up in my head all the time, you know. But here's how it started.
People have told me I'm a really nice person, that I'm sweet and charming. I think those people are the ones that don't really pay too much attention to the world. You know the kind of person that walks across the street with their phones in hand, the ones that jaywalk and run red lights and stop signs all for a few extra seconds in the morning? Those people are the ones I get to see every day. When you live on the streets of New York City, it's unavoidable.
So, I was walking down the street, as I usually do right before rush hour. That's the time I had to be holding my sign up, 'cause that's when the most people passed by. My sign was pretty special, actually, more like a piece of art or an extension of myself than words scrawled on a scrap of discarded cardboard. It was written in a sharpie that my parents gave me, on a poster board they also got me, both of which were for a school project. I kept it because I don't have much left of them. Their ashes were somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean, and besides, my sign was enough. It was a white poster that says "17, no money, anything helps". It was definitely outdated, since I wasn't 17 anymore, but it still worked all the same. If anyone had any concerns about a 17 year old boy on the street begging for money, they must not have cared enough to call CPS or anything. Maybe I just didn't look 17 and they assumed I'm lying.
I was, but it wasn't intentional! I wouldn't intentionally lie to people, that doesn't get anyone anywhere. I wasn't innocent, but I would never lie without a very good reason. Maybe the only thing that could make me lie was a life-or-death situation. Perhaps not even that.
I was walking down the street, losing track of time again. It was 2 PM then, I think. I didn't have a watch, but I was good at telling time. Whenever I forgot the time, the voices told me. There's one that must have had a watch or something, because she always told me what time it is. She said her name is Yvonne. I'd never met a Yvonne, but I had a picture of some newborn baby named Yvonne in my bag. I didn't remember where I got it. The Yvonne I know, the one in my head, had golden hair and her voice was lemon yellow.
Some of the other voices would talk to me sometimes, but it was usually just Yvonne and Brooke. Brooke's voice was this splashing shade of neon pink that blinded me sometimes, and she was always impatient so I would tell her not to interrupt me. She would listen to me, too. Sometimes. Other times, Yvonne had to remind her that she was acting like a 7-year-old and to calm down before she caused any trouble. Brooke didn't like being called a 7-year-old, she was 7 when she died and we'd all come very far since then.
I didn't realize how far I'd walked down 1st Avenue until I saw an unfamiliar part of the city. There was a sushi restaurant at the end of the block with flashing lights at the front. My stomach rumbled longingly, and I told it to hush. I didn't have the money for something like sushi. I would later tonight, but not yet. I rubbed the lone twenty in my pocket and the fountain pen in the other pocket. I decided to look at other people until rush hour, one of my favorite activities. I spotted a tall man with artificial blonde hair wearing a coat and sweatpants. He was probably a tourist, unfamiliar to the chill of Northern cities.
I spotted another interesting character, a girl walking down the street that looked lost. She had probably come too far down 1st Avenue, like I had. It was easy to do in a city like this, there's only so many streets that you can know like the back of your hand. She might be from Newark, exploring the big city for the first time and completely overwhelmed by it all.
And the ice cream truck driver. He wore a big, genuine smile. That would be too hard to fake for hours every day, so I deduced that the smile was real. Maybe he just really loved his job, or he liked children. After looking a bit closer, the way his gaze lingered on the youngest kids as they walked away disgusted me. I looked away from him.
There was a woman pushing a baby stroller. Anyone who was just giving the two a passing glance would assume they were mother and daughter, but a few things made that unlikely. She was very tall, and had bright green eyes that looked everywhere but the stroller. Her gaze was mostly glued to her phone, but she took moments to appreciate attractive men as they walked by. I hid a smile when she gave me a cursory glance. She was probably a babysitter, hired just to give the child its necessary dose of affection while its overworked mother pulled another double shift at her dead-end office job. The babysitter wore glasses on her forehead, their frames indicating a more aesthetic purpose instead of being for her eyesight. That was probably why she wasn't wearing them.
The child's eyes were brown like mine. That also implied that the green-eyed babysitter wasn't its mother. I couldn't tell whether the baby was a boy or a girl. I had an odd twinge in my gut when I looked at it, and I realized it looked just like the baby Yvonne picture. That was silly. All babies looked alike, there was no way they were even similar. That baby might not even be a girl. But somehow, its hazel eyes and burbling lips reminded me of that baby picture. Yvonne glared at me and told me to stop thinking about the baby picture. She didn't sound mad, she sounded panicked, so I nodded quickly and went back to the crowd.
A teenage boy laughed a sea-green laugh and beckoned his friends into the sushi restaurant I'd been looking at earlier. He had black slicked hair, and he was taller than most of the group that surrounded him. He radiated confidence with a kind of charisma I wished I had. His cool stare punctured my zoned out bubble, and I shook my head to clear it.
It was 2:40. I saw a beautiful girl at the corner of the sidewalk, wearing a low-cut dress that accentuated her curves. She didn't have many curves without it, and I realized that it was intentional. Her slim-fit leggings had to cost as much money as she made in a day, begging on the street. She was certainly an alluring sight, even to me, and most definitely to the men of New York City. I walked up to her.
"Hello! What's your name?" I said to her. She jumped a little bit, clearly startled. She didn't act like a prostitute, so her look was just to get attention. I didn't think that was too bad. My way of getting attention was my sign, but I bet hers worked just as well. The tired and overworked men of this city were probably more than happy to give money to such a beautiful girl. She smiled brightly when she saw me. With my floppy brown hair and big eyes, I'd been told I have an innocent appearance. It helps me out with jumpy girls like her. She cleared her throat and ran a hand through her long black hair. The pink frills on her skirt fluttered in the slight breeze.
"I'm Lily! What about you?" She asked. I thought for a moment. Brooke and Yvonne both told me to stop thinking and start talking. Lily tilted her head like she was trying to read the veins in my eyelids.
"Sykkuno." I said. It was the name everyone called me, so it was my name. Simple as that. Lily's suspicious stare said in so many words that she didn't think it was really my name, but seeing as she had nothing else to call me, she would use it. Everyone did eventually.
"Okay... Sykkuno, what are you doing talking to me, then?" She asked, arms crossed. The way her eyes darted around told me that she was waiting for rush hour. I asked Yvonne what time it was and she said it was 2:50. Traffic all around us was beginning to pick up, people's speed and urgency picking up with each passing minute, and Lily didn't want to waste a minute of it with me. I considered guessing things about her, but Brooke told me I shouldn't. She said it was rude, like talking about someone behind their back. I definitely didn't want to be rude to a girl I'd just met, especially not one with such a pretty light-pink voice. I pulled the twenty out of my pocket.
"I wanted to give you this." I smiled slightly, covering my mouth with my other hand. She took the bill, not even looking at it. I could almost see her eyes flickering with her knowledge of me, slowly updating my mental file with every new thing she learned about me. I wanted her to think I was rich, that would be interesting to see if I could pull it off. I straightened my spine and smiled again without opening my mouth. She smiled back, but in a fake way that looked more like she was showing off her teeth. I sat on the sidewalk, and she gave me a confused look before sitting next to me.
"What's your favorite food, Lily?" I rested my elbows on my knees. She paused for a moment to consider the question, narrowing her eyes like the words might jump out and bite her if she wasn't careful. So she was wary of strange men, then. That was good. It was dangerous not to have that kind of instinct.
"I guess pizza." She said. I chuckled.
"Can't go wrong with the classics, can you?" I agreed, and a knot of tension settled from Lily's shoulder. I gave her a disarming smile, ignoring Brooke's sudden insistence that I leave. I didn't want to leave. Lily was fun to talk to. She'd even stopped looking to see if rush hour was in full swing.
"Well, I could get you pizza sometime. Call me if you're up for that, how's that sound, Lily?" I asked, and I walked away before she could respond. She'd find the message pretty soon if she was observant, and if she wasn't, I didn't particularly want to continue the conversation anyways. I imagined the confused look on her face and I could see it as vividly as if I was turned around and watching her as I walked away. Brooke sighed in a mix of relief and worry.
When I was far enough from Lily, I retreated into the cozy cave of my own head. Brooke made sure I kept walking.
"Yvonne, are you dead?" I asked her impulsively. She gave me a complicated face and told me that yes, she was dead.
"How did you die?" I said more impatiently. Yvonne blinked as if she was surprised I was even wondering. She told me it was none of my concern and she would tell me when I died too. I pointed out that if I died then she wouldn't exist and she laughed at me. It was a silly comment anyways. She'd find a way to exist if I was dead and buried, we both knew that.
Yvonne asked her own question. She asked why so many people die around me and it was my turn to tell her it was none of her concern. She knew I didn't know the answer. Brooke laughed a girlish snicker and asked me what my real name was. She sang "Sykkunoooooo" to the empty air of my head and giggled when I didn't answer. She knew I didn't know that either. Yvonne scolded her for being a child again and she huffed in annoyance.
I pulled myself out of my mind cave for a moment to find where I was supposed to meet my new friend. Brooke told me my friends don't live very long.
Brooke was usually right, of course.