Day 43

• Courtney Petty, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2015

It’s getting colder. I don’t know how much more I can take without longer pants. Sure the grimy, oversized coat does its job good enough, but it could be better. I’m starting to forget what it felt like to go to sleep without chattering teeth. I’ve been here, what maybe, a couple of weeks? It’s been long enough, maybe I could go back? No, what a stupid idea that would be; I can never go back.
The chilly breeze catches up and suddenly my skin erupts into scattered goose bumps, I pull my knees closer to my stomach trying to keep the heat within the small circle of warmth, pulling the coat over my legs.
I’m better off here anyway; well to some degree.
Suddenly my stomach explodes into a brash, longing growl. A simple reminded of how hungry I really am. I stand, and begin to walk, my backpack hanging from one shoulder the few things in the bottom cluttering together. The streets are cold and damp; the shadows hide secrets and lies. I’ve become accustomed to the unnerving feeling that they bring, now it’s just a reminder to be on my feet; rather than a spook of adrenaline. The street lights offer an eerie glow that only manages to light my path for a few short steps before I’m blinded by the unforgiving night again. Sounds about right.
There’s gotta be a rubbish bin around here somewhere, hopefully someone was selfless enough to through away a half-eaten donut, or maybe even a hot dog if I’m lucky.
The temperatures dropping so fast I can feel it. I rummage through my bag, well through the few things that I have in there anyway; pulling out a pink knitted beanie. It has a few holes in it at the back, but it’s warm enough. I pull it over my ears and dirty blonde hair that was once a beautiful gold, but I haven’t showered in a while so it’s mattered together and there are more than a few knots. The beanie was a gift from the old lady who lives next to the dry cleaners, she owns a shopping trolley, and doesn’t talk much, but she gave me this beanie and I said thank-you and gave her a few coins that I had taken from one of the washing machines when no one was looking.
Finally. The welcoming, slightly rusted rubbish bin is waiting for me with all its plastic filled glory. Before reaching in, I look around, nothing but quiet, empty streets. There’s no beauty in digging through a rubbish bin. I search before finally feeling a paper bag. Withdrawing my hand from the bin, I look down and into the bag, there’s a wrapper, a few now cold and soggy chips on the bottom, but wrapped in another piece of paper is a half-eaten cheese burger, score. From the few days that I’ve been here, I’ve come to know that beggars can't be choosers, and at the moment this cheeseburger looks pretty damn good.