2010-02-14: In The Library



Date: February 14, 2010


Trent and Sydney meet and the therapist wants to help the kid.

"In The Library"

Library — NYC

It's durring the week, a normal school day and time for most children, other then the really little. Yet, the street boy Trent is not there. He however likes to read, and it's pretty cold out, so Trent decides to spend a few hours in the library to warm up. Tucking his hat int a coat pocket and slipping inside.

He's been here before and knows right where he wants to be. Walking amongst the rows of shelves, not even bothering to head for the children's section. Reading the lables, 'Fiction, Non fiction, history etc.' Till he finds where he wants to be. Blond head peering around corners just to make sure no one's going to bug him.

Not far from the children's section a pale skinned woman with dark hair is madly photocopying articles. Lots of articles. In fact it seems she's doing a lot of photocopying. Books, newspapers, magazines, articles like crazy. She packs her giant stack of papers into several large-ish shoulder bags. And then with an idle smirk she pads over to the children's section to find some books for Jamie. Just because Jamie can't go to school doesn't mean she shouldn't be reading and trying to keep up with her studies. Biting her bottom lip, Sydney glances down the aisles. She really is lost and has no idea what twelve year olds even like to read — do the Box Car children still exist?!

Pressing her lips, she continues down the aisles, this time for help. With a hmmm her gaze falls on Trent. She shoots him a warm smile, "You look about twelve… what do twelve year olds read now?"
Trent hadn't spotted anyone, untill there is a woman before him, he jumps a bit, then blinks and stops. "I um, well, I'm eleven, but close enough I suppose, though I don't really know. I am not up on all the popular children's books. And my reading ability isn't that good yet." he says softly to her. He is in the library after all, and know they like mostly silence in them. He tries not to get too close to her, even though she's smiling so warmly. Appearing ready to run at first. "But um, well, I guess it depends on what the child is into I guess. And their gender. I actually like some poetry, I don't like Hardey Boys, and I can't read a lot of chapter books. But normal children. Hrm.."

He looks the woman over a bit, and almost sences something in her, that he can possibly trust. His stance easing a little. "Tell me about the child, and well possibly I can think of something."

"Well…" Sydney hmmms. "I… I… don't know." She frowns a little at the notion of the kid not being normal and she simply says, "Normal is boring and bland. The girl the books are for… she's not normal. Far from it actually." Very far from it. Jamie can turn into water.

"She's very athletic. Into gymnastics and the like and recently seemed to want to do something with tap dancing… I don't know." She shrugs before hmming again. "You don't like the Hardy Boys? Well, she needs to be reading… I think we might read something together and put together a book report or something." For who? Who knows? But it's the activity of normalcy that matters.

"Ahh" Trent exclaims, "Not too sure about girls, but then I'm not really too sure about most children. Though my reading level isn't what my ages should be, I still like things most kids probably wouldn't. LIke the poetry." He hrms though, "What about something about old and new gymnists. Especially the female ones. I don't know who they are so I can't help you there."

Trent shrugs, "I never really got into the Hardey Boys. I like more culture kinda things. You know, well like the poetry and stuff."

"Poetry and stuff… hmmm…" Sydney presses her lips together. "I don't think she'd be into either of those. She's creative, but not really in that way, you know? But you're right maybe there's something to be said for books about gymnasts." She nods at this before she leans against one of the shelves.

"So, what are you doing here today? Most kids are in school, aren't they, or is it a PD day? I know nothing about any of this… haven't been around kids much until recently." She flashes him that same warm smile.
Trent smiles, "Yeah, some of it I can't understand, but I dunnow, it just seems to sound good, and stuff like classic music. I like roc and stuff too, but again, more like cultural type things." He nods though, "Yeah I know what you maean, most kids aren't into that stuff anyway." He looks around, "They might have some gymnastics stuff in here. Some of the book stores might have more, and she could keep them. If she really likes them."

At the mention of school, the warning flags have gone up again and he bites his lip. "Well, when you live on the streets, don't have a place to go home to, one can't really go to school m'am. I haven't been in a long time. I want to, but I don't have any way of doing it right now."

And there's the truth. The kid lives on the streets. "Why do you live on the streets? No parents? Or did you runaway?" Sydney has seen both. She's familiar with both and she's been around troubled children for years. Hope Hearth has always catered to this population in particular.

The passion over what was spoken of before, the culture, and such. Something that's brought a smile to the boy's face, for the first time in a long time… fades. His blue eyes lower to the floor, "Well, sortta both m'am." he says softly. "My parents died, and I ran away from my aunt's." He starts to back away, slowly, so he can get some distance, so he can run.. but he bumps into a metal spinny wrack with paperback novels on it. That falls over with a clatter, and him with it. He scrambles to try to get out of it.

"I lost my parents when I was little," Sydney says as she lowers herself onto the library's carpeted floor. She sighs heavily as she draws her knees into her chest. "I ran away from my grandparents lots of times, but someone always found me and brought me back." Her smile is softer now; gentler. "How long have you been living on your own?"

The boy still struggles, untill he pulls himself free from the wrack. He starts to set it upright, when he hears her words. He looks to her, curiousely. "Well, my aunt was mean, so you might say since my parents died. But on the streets, for three years, about. She couldn't handle my mild ADHD and just yelled at me a lot." He soon picks up the wrack and anything that might have fallen off it. Soon as he's done, he sits near her, "And I was too little to be left alone so much."

"I never knew my parents," Sydney says honestly and quietly. "But my Nana was never a nice person either. Not even now. The only difference is now I'm a grown up and she can't tell me what to do anymore." She hmmms softly, "So essentially she didn't look out for you?" She is still a therapist, and her professional urges obligate her to probe for more information. "Did she remember to cook dinner and stuff?"

Trent doesn't even realize she is probing him for information. He shakes his head, "She had stuff like pop tarts and cereal. That I could get, and didn't even care if I made it to school or not. She had cable, that's about the only good thing I got there. If I made a mess I got yelled at." A lot more detailed and informative then he was with the woman he met a few days prior. "It's getting to the point that I am beginning to forget what they looked like. I had a pocket watch, it didn't work, but there was a picture in it and I lost it. Now I don't even have that." Hugging his knees to himself and resting his face on the knees.

Sounds like neglect. If Sydney wasn't currently a fugitive she'd be pursuing that lead, but right now? She's protecting Jamie. But a kid on the street? She purses her lips together. "I used to get yelled at for things I didn't do. And the things I did well were ignored." She shrugs at this. "And as far as what they look like… you'll always have the memory of them. Focus on those memories. Draw them out. Those are worth keeping." She smiles softly at him again. "And those will help you whenever you feel sad or unhappy."

Trent's trembling a bit. "I try to remember, but it's so hard. All I can think about is the night they died. The picture when I would feel perticularly lnoely at my Aunt's would help me. I got so many memories still there, unless she sold them. I try not to cry so much, but sometimes I can't help it. There were good times, I know it, but they were so long ago."

Sydney scootches a tad closer to Trent and reaches out to squeeze his shoulder. "It's okay to cry, you know. When sad stuff happens we're supposed to feel sad." She smiles softly. "It's a good thing. In fact it helps us to recognize what we feel and why." She shrugs a little. "Believe me. I still cry about my parents sometimes and I never knew them. It's sad."

Trent hasn't felt someone touch him in a long time. Good or bad really. He fears it.. whatever it is. Scootching away a bit further, not screaming or anything at least, but definetly moving. She's been nice, but that is a lot at once. "I was told the other day boys aren't supposed to cry." he says softly. He tries to wipe the tears away. Only for them to renew, It's been three years, more since his parents left, but his pain is still very real. "I'm a boy, if I keep crying about it, I'll never get anywhere, just keep living the life of a victim. End up doing something stupid. I want to be with them."

"Whoever said that was being foolish. We're supposed to cry when things are sad and then we're supposed to find a way through our pain, you know?" Sydney puts her hand by her side once again. "And you didn't have an opportunity to move on with life — but you can move on. I'm not saying forget them or what happened… and it'll always be sad in a way, but I think it gets easier when you lose someone…" Her lips flicker into a smile, "I bet you're really smart and really independent. Otherwise you couldn't have made it three years on your own."

Some woman I saw in Central Park. I got some food out of it, and never finished it all. Because she started being mean after. But I suppose, but I can't really get anywhere of importance on the streets. I learned to avoid areas where it looked kinda scary, and don't wander too much after dark. The dealers don't mess with me, cause I don't have any money for drugs, and I don't think that is a good thing for me to get into anyway." As to the independent. "My parents let me discover and learn on my own. Smaller city, and woods, lots of woods. I used to camp out. I learned about insulating and when I can get away with it, I'll sleep inside where it's warm and people don't know I'm locked inside."

"I grew up in California. It was always warm there and I've never gotten used to the cold nip of the New York air," Sydney admits with a chuckle and a shrug. "Well whoever she was, it wasn't kind of her and certainly not very smart. Some people don't understand loss or they haven't dealt with their own." She shrugs. "It just takes time to go on after something like that." And from the sounds of it his aunt wasn't very helpful. "And see, I knew you were smart! It takes some smarts to think about insulating and stuff."

Trent unzips his coat, it is a bit too warm in here for all that insulation. A few wads of newspaper tumble out to the floor, his insulation that he scoops up and stuffs back in, "Well a homeless man I met once said newspapers was a good way to help keep warmer." His eyes look at her, "Maybe, and maybe my Aunt was just upset for losing her sister. But she never came to see us and then never brought me here to meet her. I knew of her, but never met her before I came to New York." "Pennyvain gets cold, at least where I did, but not all that cold all the time. Though it's hit the minus farhighs a few times." unable to say ferenheight.

"So… tell me where do you stay at night? One of the shelters?" Sydney's eyes flicker towards the entrance. She inhales a deep breath, "Do you want to move on? Are you ready?"

Trent shrugs, "Wherever I can find some place, at least a little warm." he whispers, "I even got locked in here once." He nods, "I don't like being out there. I want a home, and opportunities that I can't get on the streets, but I just get scared. Scared they'd make me go back to my aunts, or juvvie, or something. I want to choose, I want to feel like someone cares again." He sighs, "I want to go to school, and have clean clothes and be a normal kid."

And that's the only answer she really needs. "They might want you to go back to your aunt's but as long as you've done nothing wrong juvvie is out of the question… and even with the aunt… if you told them what you told me, they wouldn't make you go back." It's neglect. Pure and simple: neglect. "Alright. I'm going to give you a couple of options…" She swallows, "One: you can come with me and we can figure this out. I have a friend who is a therapist and I know he could help if we convince him." She swallows. "Two: You agree to visit Hope Hearth and find Amy and tell her Sydney sent you. She will watch out for you." She hmms again, "Or, three: we can go to the police and have them deal with it." She turns to look at him, "So the question is, what do you want to do?"

And that's the only answer she really needs. "They might want you to go back to your aunt's but as long as you've done nothing wrong juvvie is out of the question… and even with the aunt… if you told them what you told me, they wouldn't make you go back." It's neglect. Pure and simple: neglect. "Alright. I'm going to give you a couple of options…" She swallows, "One: you can come with me and we can figure this out. I have a friend who is a therapist and I know he could help if we convince him." She swallows. "Two: You agree to visit Hope Hearth and find Amy and tell her Sydney sent you. She will watch out for you." She hmms again, "Or, three: we can go to the police and have them deal with it." She turns to look at him, "So the question is, what do you want to do?"

Trent frowns, "I don't want to go back. They make me go back, I'll run again." he sighs though and conciders his options. "I don't want the cops, they scare me." He bites his lip. "Well, I.. I don't think I've seen Hope Hearth before. But I been so many places I coulda passed it and not ever paid attention. But maybe that's my option." Though the therapist, well he's not really heard that term much nefore. "What's a therapist?"

"Well a therapist is someone who listens to people's problems and helps them find solutions. And Hope Hearth is a distress centre… it's there specifically to help people who are in trouble like you. Amy is very smart and would know what to do…" And might panic at the notion of Sydney being around and virtually disappearing from New York over the last month. "Therapists are good people. They don't tell anyone your secrets and they help you come up with ideas…"

Trent listens to the woman, "Oh.. well maybe for now that Hope Heart place would be better, then when I get more settled then I can think about talking to that guy. But don't those kind of people need money for that? Cause I don't have any. I don't think I ever will. At least not till I'm big enough for a job. And I don't got any skills. I don't even know how to ride a bike yet."

"No money. Not at Hope Hearth," Sydney explains. They're government funded. And the community initiative Fred works for is the same. "Okay… so if you want to go to Hope Hearth I can give you directions… if you want to come with me tonight…" Oh please let Fred forgive her for this. "I'm sure my therapist friend could help you anyways. Even if you're not ready to talk about things…"

Trent thinks a bit longer, "Um.. Ok.. I can come with you. Not like I got anything important going on, was just gonna read here and get warm. But maybe it's warmer there." Ok, so he tries to be a little silly. Even if he's not really smiling. "But let's find your friend a book first on gymnastics. She would be happy."

"Yes, that'll make her very happy. Maybe we should find something on… acrobatics in particular? She has a thing for circuses…" Sydney nods at this as she continues on her trek to find a book.

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