City Kids (1.1)

Child versions of some OCs of mine.

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Haro sits on the edge of the concrete roof, flicking pebbles down to the street two floors below, his bare feet dangling in the chilly night air.  He wears his dirty blanket with pride--a prize snatched from a bum on the other side of the park--but it does little to trap the heat of his small frame.

But he refuses to go inside.  His sister hasn't come home yet.

She should have been home before sunset.  Like always.  Hunt in the light, sleep in the night.  Apart by sun, together by moon.  Silly chants and rhymes, but she had made him memorize them, even sing them once.

He's older than his sister--by a few days--but it never seems to work out that way.  She's the one that found the abandoned warehouse.  She's the one showing him what to snatch and how to snatch it.  She's the one making sure they always have a Plan B.

Haro thinks it's because she's afraid of getting separated.  Afraid of losing him like they lost their parents.  But he won't say it.  Because he's afraid of that too.

And that's when he decides he isn't going to wait anymore.

Haro leaves his perch for the fire escape stairs.  Sliding down the railings, leaping the last few feet--he reaches the street in under a minute, and pauses by the curb to think.

It's still Tuesday.  Market Day.  She stakes out the open air market on Winslow and 33rd on Tuesdays, but the market usually closes by five.  Haro doesn't have a watch, but the twilight sky tells him five o'clock passed a long time ago.  She might not be there anymore, but he doesn't have any other ideas.

What if she comes back while he's looking for her?  He needs to make a sign, let her know.  Haro picks up the pebbles from earlier, and arranges them in an arrow near the weather-beaten stop sign.  Very few people pass by here, so he's relatively sure the pebble formation is safe.  Hopefully, she'll see it.  She's smart.  Smarter than he is.  She'll see it.

Haro gives the arrow a last look, and then sets off, his feet beating on the derelict concrete.

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371 words