"I'd appreciate it if you'd let go of me."
Grumbling at the policeman, she swung a punch
at him, hitting him the in gut before he could dodge it.
"Stupid kids." he mumbled, patting his stomach.
The girl
whose wrist was caught in his large hand slapped at him. "I told you, I have parents. I can't go to an orphanage!"
"Yeah,
yeah. That's what you said last time." The policeman mumbled. (c)
"Well, it's true!" The girl yelped as he swung her towards a doorway and knocked loudly on
the wooden door.
The policeman chuckled. "This orphanage won't let you run off, I'll make sure of it. Not like the last
two."
"I have a home!" she protested.
"On the streets." he reminded her.
She couldn't say anything to that.It was
true.She couldn't say the same thing though about having parents.(c)
The door was yanked open. The policeman conferred slightly with the man standing inside, then
shoved her in.
The girl turned to look at the policeman. "Well, I guess I'll see you later." she said, cheerfully.
The
policeman chuckled slightly. "No, I don't think you will."
The girl shrugged. She was tall and gangly for her fourteen
years, the dirt that was usually on her had been washed. (c)
She had long curls of black, thick hair that was usually in her face. Chiseled features: a
stubborn jaw, mischeivous green eyes, a straight nose and a full, now pouting mouth, hinted at a strong personality.
It
was true she'd lived on the streets, in a sort of gang. There, they'd called her Nieve, meaning snow in spanish.
A tattoo
on her right palm, a snowflake, marked her name. (c)
She glanced around the place, grimly. So this was the next place she was being sent to. It
was true that she'd been at the last orphanage only three days before running off. She doubted this one would last much longer.
-done-
