An Empty Book

Thief Chapter 2

 

I walked home late that night to my home, at the park. My neighborhood is called a hooverville. It’s a thriving utopia of homeless beggars living in houses made of cardboard that blows over in the rain, or old weathered tents, thanks to Hoover, of course. Everyone comes excited to see me; they know I have something good for them. There’s about 200 people here, and we all make a living however we can.       

               Laura runs to me . I pull out a jar of peaches I took from the basement. Her eyes light up, and she takes it and runs to our tent. I hand out food I collected to the hungriest people, making sure to be selfish enough to have a meal for myself. Those who I don’t have enough to feed, or didn’t get to me before the rest of the mob, have to find another source, which isn't easy. I hate the pain of seeing those who I don't have enough for.

After I feed everyone I can, I give all the valuable and collectible junk to James Price, who will then sell it to people who don’t seem to mind the fact it once belonged to someone else, and bring back a few more dollars to our community. I would do it myself, but I'm not a speaker, and it doesnt sound very fun anyhow. Also, James claims to have “people on the inside” that I don’t, and it makes him happy to boast about his apparent underground reputation like he’s some kind of super bad-to-the-bone gangster thing who’s way cooler than my 19-year-old self. So I just give him shiny stuff now and then and let him do his thing.

               My brother, Lenny, is practicing his guitar while several bored neighbors sit down and watch. His fingers effortlessly float around the neck of the guitar, strumming and picking every note to the song like a one man band.  He’s incredibly good, and makes enough money street-performing to feed himself, and sometimes the other homeless. If he wasn’t a “dirty street urchin” like me he could perform to a real audience, and probably make thousands. As it is, he’s probably the most skilled musician in the entire city and can’t find a single cockroach-infested pub that will hire him. We’ve made a few more interesting heists together, using his musical talent as a distraction.

“Hey River, you find us somethin’ good to eat?” He called out.

I nodded, smiling. I tried to show him I found a big jar of food through hand motions.

“You suck at charades!” He said laughing. “Move your hands some more, maybe I’ll get it!” He mocked me, scratching his armpits like a chimpanzee.

I scowled. Urrgh. I’ll show you charades you little-

A little ragged boy tugged on my shirt. “Do you have any food?” he said sadly. I blinked. I didn’t, actually. I suppose maybe I could share those peaches, but-

“Yeah, sure. Come over here.” Lenny called out. The boy came to him nervously. Lenny handed him a few coins, enough to buy him a meal. He nodded at me. It’s hard to stay angry at him.

               I walk to my own house, a crusty old tent, and lay down on my pillow beside Laura, who’s already asleep. I crawl into a blanket made of random soft junk hastily knitted together. It doesn’t actually provide any warmth whatsoever with its giant holes through it everywhere; but it’s nice to pretend.

               I wake up to the city noises, the honking horns, the blaring lights shining through my thin walls. There’s a lot of talking going on outside. It must be church day. I open my tent and go outside. Yup. Church kids are shaking people’s hands and setting up a mobile soup kitchen for us, led by their youth pastor, Linda Su. They’re from the new Pentecostal church that just popped up. There are other groups that come now and then, but this church has been faithful to us. They can’t help us like we need, because they aren’t billionaires themselves, but they do what they can. Genuine good people like them are rare. I always try to stay away from them, though. They’re real social, and I don’t like explaining to everyone I meet that my broken voicebox renders me mute. So I keep my distance. Laura goes around hugging every person she sees; Aunt Vick, the crazy old bat every Hooverville needs, starts spitting and cursing because she doesn’t like noise when she has her hangovers; and our unofficial mayor, James Richmond, is talking to the youth pastor about getting more visits. I’m trying to stay away from everyone. I walk away to plan my next heist. But some girl taps me on the shoulder from behind.

“Hey. Did you get any soup?”

Ugh. Conversation. I shook my head no, trying to get away.

“Well its really good. My mom helped me make it. Do you want some?”

I shook my head again.

“Oh ok. Well… My names Ruth.”

She was really pretty, which made it all the more uncomfortable when I literally couldn’t say anything back to her. She looked at me, expecting me to say my name. I sighed. I made some hand gestures to try to show I can’t speak. I don’t think I got the point across.

She looked at me as if I was insane.

“Well, um, maybe I’ll see you again sometime?” She said uncomfortably.

I smiled awkwardly. She walked away.

If I could speak, I would scream the most profane, vile, evil things the world has ever known at the top of my voice. I thought. I hated meeting people. As it was, I could only scream them in my mind. I looked back at Ruth. She was talking to Laura. Laura pointed at me. Ruth came back.

“Im sorry. I didn’t know. Here. Can you write?”

I nodded and shrugged. so-so.

“My youth leader had a notebook she didn’t need with her.”

She gave me a blue spiral notebook, with a pencil in the loopy things.

“Now you can carry that around and talk to people!” She said cheerily.

I stared at it in wonder. Why didn’t I think of that?

 “What’s your name?” She asked me.

I stared at her for a second. Oh…right.

I opened the notebook and scribbled “River”.

“River. Nice to meet you.”

I nodded.

“Time to go, kids!” Linda called out.

“I gotta go. I’ll see you later, River!”

I waved bye. I felt good inside. A friend.

Reviews

[C. Rose]

Watch out for telling. Instead of "Laura a short blonde orphan girl about 8 who lives with me" Try having her braids bounce, her small hands accept the peaches, give her childish dialogue. You already say "our tent". Instead of

I like that River has a Robin Hood mentality. I like the name River.

There's a trick to revealing an interesting character-defining detail such as being mute. Reveal it in pieces. Give the reader an opportunity to notice something is up and guess it just as you finish giving hints. When River gives the loot to Price, say she wishes she could do the whole job herself but knows she never can (but don't say because she's mute". The "you suck at charades" joke from her brother is another good hint. When River thinks about why she's not friends with the church children is an opportunity for a final, nearly straight up telling hint, before the scene with Ruth where it is clear River is mute.