Sweet.
Dainty.
Docile.
The sound of change hitting concrete, muffled slightly by dollar bills, brings me back to the present. My stomach knows that sound. It pangs with the yearning for food. My fingers twitch against my ratty jeans, eager to snatch it up, but I wait. I always wait.
“See you next time, Princess.”
The door opens and closes. I spin around so quickly nausea makes my knees weak. Bending down, I clamber for the money, making sure I don’t miss a single dollar or cent. He’s one of my cheap ones, but when I can swing it, I prefer them. They don’t try to keep me longer. They don’t pressure me for more. Sometimes, they even keep their hands to themselves. Sometimes, it’s not so bad.
There’s almost twenty bucks in dollar bills, the rest is mostly in quarters and dimes. Carefully, I shove everything into my jean pocket without holes. After washing my hands at the sink and rinsing my mouth with water, I pick up my backpack and exit the bathroom with my head down.
It’s dark out, but it should still be early enough to pick up a few things at the dollar store and catch the bus I need. As long as I don’t get stopped.
“Yo, Princess.”
I cringe, my feet cementing to the pavement. Beverly’s raspy smoker’s voice has sent chills up my spine since the first day I met her, four months ago.
“How much you got there?” She walks up from behind me, circling me and getting right in my face. The pores in her boney cheeks are big enough to swallow me whole.
“Not much,” I mutter. “You know he’s broke.”
She snorts. “That what he tell you again? That’s why he comes to you, you know? It’s not ’cause he likes you; it’s ’cause you let him walk all over you. Any other girl, anywoman, and he would’ve paid up.”
A thin arm wraps around my neck, pulling me away from Beverly, and my shoulders instantly relax when I stare into Monica’s big brown eyes. “Leave her alone.” Monica moves in front of me, bends down, and pushes a strand of greasy hair behind my ear. “Was he good to you, honey?”
I shrug.
“He hurt you?”
I shake my head.
“Then you’re good.” She gives my cheek a peck, and her red lipstick sticks to my skin. “Don’t let Bev boss you around, hun. You know you don’t have to give her a dime if it’s your own client, don’t you?”
I nod.
“Get going, now. And get yourself something to eat, honey. You’re getting skinny.”
Beverly snaps at her, but I don’t stay to listen to their argument. Their voices fade as I cut across the street and slip into the dollar store.
I weave through the aisles and fill a basket with chips, water, protein bars, and any other food items small enough to carry. Next, I grab a toothbrush since mine was stolen, hand sanitizer, and bodywash from the baby aisle. I like the kind for babies because it’s shampoo, conditioner, and soap all in one. After calculating how much it’s going to cost, I snatch up a clean shirt and make my way to the register.
Monica tells me I shouldn’t spend so much at once, that I need to learn to stash my money in case of emergencies. But I don’t know how anyone in The Pitts saves a dime when there’s so little to begin with.
After checking out, I head toward the station around the corner and sit on the bench to transfer everything into my backpack. Sometimes, when I get rid of the plastic bags, I can almost convince myself I’m just going to a sleepover.
The soft squeal of bus tires hits my ears, and excitement thrums under my skin so ferociously my eyes start to tear. I’ve been waiting for this bus since the moment I got off it this morning.
I’ve just finished packing my food when I’m knocked sideways. My face hits the bench, a burn slicing through my cheek.
I groan as I place my palms on the handrail and push myself upright. By the time I look up, all I catch is a petite, shadowed form in a hoodie peeling into the empty parking lot behind me. A girl. The same size as me, dirty blond hair knotted in rats’ nests.
Dread turns my bones to liquid as I look down. At where my backpack should be.
My throat burns.
The bus pulls up in front of me.
