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He wandered the streets, his body slowly wasting away, trying to see why everyone lived this way, what secret reason they had, when there was seemed to be an obvious solution to it right in front of them.
He listened to anyone and everyone, picking up enough Dutch and I.F. Common to understand everything he heard around him. He learnt to read the signs and markings on the trucks and stalls. Eventually, he came to the solution. There was no secret, they were just stupid, so they kept living this way. They were stupid, but he was smart.
He let his body waste away, as he studied the various crews of younger kids that came together for safety and strength in numbers. He watched them all from a distance, of course, saw which crews were good, which had a strong leader, which might be able to pull it off.
In the end, he chose Poke's crew. She wasn't the best leader. Indeed, in some ways, that was why he chose her. The significant fact about her, what set her apart from the other crew leaders, was that she was nice. On the street, nice kids died, they were too generous, gave away too much. Poke, was almost too nice to live. But at this moment, that really didn't matter. She was alive and of his options, seemed like the best. The most likely to give him something, anything, to eat. And right now, he really did need something to eat. So he clambered up onto one of the garbage cans across the street from where Poke was loitering, surrounded by her crew, as much as they were trying to pretend they weren't one.
He followed as Poke led a couple of bullies to a supply stash she had. See, this is exactly why his plan should be implemented, it sorted these sorts of problems out.
He walked up until he was directly behind Poke, and waited, expectantly. As the bullies ran away, chasing each other, Poke turned around and nearly tripped over him. Just as planned. Then, she kneed him to the ground. Not really in the plan, but he can work with it. She said something at him about not standing behind people. He ignored it, just got up and looked at her.
"No, you little bastard, you're not getting nothing from me, I'm not taking one bean out of the mouths of my crew, you aren't worth a bean," she said.
He was careful to frame his argument in context of the bullies Poke had just seen off, rather than the ones lurking anywhere, as the crew reassembled, but he began to shift the argument into the larger context, the way Poke had the same battles everyday, the same giving food away to any number of bullies, who, lets be honest have already eaten at the charity kitchens in the morning. Why shouldn't giving food to one bully, and have him keep the rest away work? He was flirting with death, the way he talked with her, but what was new there? He was flirting with death every day, in the struggle to survive. So, when she put him on the ground again, he stayed there, lying on the ground.
"You push him down, he not so big. You get your rocks. You be ready. Ben't you a soldier? Don't they call you Sergeant?" He replied, when Poke's second in command (effectively) asked about how they'd deal with multiple bullies.
"Stop talking to him, Sarge," said Poke. "I don't know why any of us is talking to a two-year-old."
"I'm four," he replied.
"What's your name?" asked Poke.
"Nobody ever said no name for me," he said. And it was true. In all the time he'd been on the streets, no one had ever said a name for him. No one had ever needed to.
"You mean you so stupid you can't remember your own name?" And now she was mocking him.
"Nobody ever said no name," he repeated.
"Ain't worth a bean," she said.
"Am so,"
"Yeah, one damn bean." That was Sarge, back in the conversation again.
"So now you got a name," said Poke. "You go back and sit on that garbage can, I think about what you said."
"I need something to eat," He, Bean, replied.
"If you get me a bully, if what you said works, then maybe I give you something.
"I need something now."
It was true, and she knew it, and he knew it, everyone present knew it. So, this was it, time to see whether he'd picked the right leader. Or whether he was about to starve to death while she walked away with his idea.
He listened to anyone and everyone, picking up enough Dutch and I.F. Common to understand everything he heard around him. He learnt to read the signs and markings on the trucks and stalls. Eventually, he came to the solution. There was no secret, they were just stupid, so they kept living this way. They were stupid, but he was smart.
He let his body waste away, as he studied the various crews of younger kids that came together for safety and strength in numbers. He watched them all from a distance, of course, saw which crews were good, which had a strong leader, which might be able to pull it off.
In the end, he chose Poke's crew. She wasn't the best leader. Indeed, in some ways, that was why he chose her. The significant fact about her, what set her apart from the other crew leaders, was that she was nice. On the street, nice kids died, they were too generous, gave away too much. Poke, was almost too nice to live. But at this moment, that really didn't matter. She was alive and of his options, seemed like the best. The most likely to give him something, anything, to eat. And right now, he really did need something to eat. So he clambered up onto one of the garbage cans across the street from where Poke was loitering, surrounded by her crew, as much as they were trying to pretend they weren't one.
He followed as Poke led a couple of bullies to a supply stash she had. See, this is exactly why his plan should be implemented, it sorted these sorts of problems out.
He walked up until he was directly behind Poke, and waited, expectantly. As the bullies ran away, chasing each other, Poke turned around and nearly tripped over him. Just as planned. Then, she kneed him to the ground. Not really in the plan, but he can work with it. She said something at him about not standing behind people. He ignored it, just got up and looked at her.
"No, you little bastard, you're not getting nothing from me, I'm not taking one bean out of the mouths of my crew, you aren't worth a bean," she said.
He was careful to frame his argument in context of the bullies Poke had just seen off, rather than the ones lurking anywhere, as the crew reassembled, but he began to shift the argument into the larger context, the way Poke had the same battles everyday, the same giving food away to any number of bullies, who, lets be honest have already eaten at the charity kitchens in the morning. Why shouldn't giving food to one bully, and have him keep the rest away work? He was flirting with death, the way he talked with her, but what was new there? He was flirting with death every day, in the struggle to survive. So, when she put him on the ground again, he stayed there, lying on the ground.
"You push him down, he not so big. You get your rocks. You be ready. Ben't you a soldier? Don't they call you Sergeant?" He replied, when Poke's second in command (effectively) asked about how they'd deal with multiple bullies.
"Stop talking to him, Sarge," said Poke. "I don't know why any of us is talking to a two-year-old."
"I'm four," he replied.
"What's your name?" asked Poke.
"Nobody ever said no name for me," he said. And it was true. In all the time he'd been on the streets, no one had ever said a name for him. No one had ever needed to.
"You mean you so stupid you can't remember your own name?" And now she was mocking him.
"Nobody ever said no name," he repeated.
"Ain't worth a bean," she said.
"Am so,"
"Yeah, one damn bean." That was Sarge, back in the conversation again.
"So now you got a name," said Poke. "You go back and sit on that garbage can, I think about what you said."
"I need something to eat," He, Bean, replied.
"If you get me a bully, if what you said works, then maybe I give you something.
"I need something now."
It was true, and she knew it, and he knew it, everyone present knew it. So, this was it, time to see whether he'd picked the right leader. Or whether he was about to starve to death while she walked away with his idea.
