Chapter Text
Soledad glanced over her shoulder one last time before stepping onto the train, tugging her hat down further over her eyes when she spotted a police officer. Heart pounding, she pushed her way into the crowded car, looking for a seat. Normally, she’d never think about taking an early commuter train into NYC, but people did a lot of things they’d never do for the sake of survival. She was getting out of Bridgeport, even if it killed her.
And considering the circumstances, it just might.
She found a seat in a mostly-empty car, sitting with her stuffed backpack on her lap. She didn’t have much, but she was going to hang on to what she did have. She pulled out an envelope with her name written on it, counting the money inside. She didn’t know why Nancy, her foster mother, kept the state payments for each of the foster kids separate like she did, but it helped Soledad a great deal. Plus, this way she didn’t steal from the other kids in that wretched house. She only wished she could have taken some of them with her, but she didn’t want to drag them into what was likely going to end up as a life of the street.
Whatever, anything was better than that hell hole.
She stuffed the envelope back into her backpack, pressing her face into the rough fabric to hide from any passerby. Her head start should be pretty massive, considering Nancy and her husband, Robert, should think she’s at school right now. And it’d be a while before any of her teachers think to report her missing. The train to New York was less than two hours long, which left her plenty of time to get lost in the city.
After that, she had no idea what she was going to do. She just had to live long enough to hit 18 so she could finally get at her inheritance. Two years on the street would be hard, but Soledad would do what she had to. The money in her envelope would at least keep her fed once a day for a few weeks. Maybe. She didn’t know exactly how far five hundred dollars would get her.
Maybe she could find a youth hostel. Those were a thing, right?
“Excuse me, young lady.” Soledad flinched back from the sudden tap on her shoulder, and the male voice that accompanied it. Looking up, she saw a rail officer standing over her, looking bewildered by her reaction.
“Sorry about that, didn’t mean to wake you,” the officer said, tipping his hat. “I just need to check your ticket.”
Soledad nodded, reaching into her pocket to pull out her ticket. Her heart hammered against her ribs, her whole body tensed as she waited for the worst. The officer looked over her ticket before giving her a curious look. Soledad hoped she looked older than she did.
“Everything looks good,” the officer said, handing back her ticket. “What’s a young lady like yourself doing traveling alone?”
‘I was visiting family for a funeral,’ she signed, her hands flying as her nervousness made her stumble over her words. ‘I’m heading back to the city for school.’
The officer just stared at her blankly, clearly not understanding sign language. All the better, Soledad decided. Still, his stare made her nerves act up, the scars on her neck itching because of it. She scratched at them, drawing the officer’s attention to her neck. Understanding dawned on his face, and he looked terribly uncomfortable.
“Well, you have a good day then,” the officer said awkwardly before quickly making his way further down the car.
One hurdle passed. Now for the rest of the race.
Once she stepped out of Grand Central Station, it was easy enough for Soledad to get swept up in the crowded New York streets. She had no idea where she was going, but it didn’t matter. She just had to follow the flow of the foot traffic.
Her stomach growled, clenching painfully. First thing first, she needed to find her some cheap food. She hadn’t eaten breakfast that morning (though that wasn’t unusual, Nancy never let her have breakfast), and she’d been denied lunch and dinner the past two days for coming home with an 89 on her math test. She was starving.
It didn’t take her terribly long to find a little hole-in-the-wall pizza joint. She just had to walk in a straight line for a few blocks. It was still early, just around 10, so it wasn’t open yet. But Soledad could wait. She’d already gone two days, what was one more hour?
She leaned against the window, watching the crowd pass by. No one paid her any mind, and even those who spared her a glance didn’t seem to think much of her. She probably just looked like any other kid skipping school. Whatever her deal was, no one cared to make it their business.
Good, that was exactly what she wanted.
“Hey, kid!” Soledad jumped at the sound of someone yelling. She looked around, quickly finding a sour-looking man standing at the door of the pizza parlor she’d parked herself in front of. Soledad shrunk back from his scowl.
“The hell do you want? We ain’t open yet!” the man barked.
‘Sorry,’ she signed.
“Ah, one a those,” the man grumbled. He turned back into the restaurant, shouting, “Oi, Johnny! We got one of them signers. Come out here and help me.”
A younger man with dark, messy hair rushed out, looking confused. The older man, probably the owner, turned to him. “Tell her we ain’t open and she needs to scram.”
‘I can hear!’ Soledad signed angrily. ‘I just can’t talk. I haven’t eaten in two days and I’m starving! I know you aren’t open. I was going to wait.’
“What do you mean you haven’t eaten in two days?” Johnny asked, ignoring the rest. He turned to the owner. “Boss, she says she hasn’t eaten in two days.”
The boss eyed her suspiciously. “Why haven’t you eaten, kid?”
Soledad signed, ‘My fake mother didn’t let me eat because I didn’t do well on a test. And she never lets me eat breakfast.’
“Fake mother?” Johnny asked, sounding both confused and distressed by the idea.
‘F-o-s-t-e-r mother,’ Soledad signed, spelling it out. ‘You use the sign for ‘fake’ for foster parents.’
“Seems kind of harsh,” Johnny said.
Soledad shrugged. ‘It suits them.’
“What’s going on?” the boss demanded.
“She says her foster mother didn’t let her eat because she did bad on a test,” Johnny explained. “I think she’s run away.”
Soledad said nothing, her hands going to grip the straps of her backpack. The boss sighed, running a hand over his thinning hair.
“Alright. I don’t give two shits about that runaway nonsense, but I can’t let a kid go hungry.” He turned towards the door, waving Soledad inside. “Get in. It’s cold out anyway.”
Soledad followed them in, signing her thanks. It really was a good deal warmer in the restaurant than it was outside. Soledad had been too caught up in the escape to notice before, but the October wind was enough to chill a girl to the bone.
“You picked quite a day to run away, eh,” the boss said, pulling out a blob of dough from a white tub. “Halloween. Some people might call it poetic.”
Soledad hadn’t even realized what day it was. She’d just decided last night that she was leaving in the morning.
‘I didn’t even think about it,’ she signed. ‘I just knew I needed to leave.’
“Do you have somewhere to stay?” the boss asked, pouring sauce on the newly stretched dough.
Soledad shook her head.
“Might be worth your while to find someplace,” he said, piling the pizza high with cheese before shoving it in the oven. “Beyond it being cold as hell at night now, Halloween is one of those days that just begs for trouble.”
Soledad nodded. He was probably right. Even back home...before she ended up in the foster system, kids and adults alike would use Halloween as an excuse to do stupid, destructive things. A kid like her was an easy target.
‘I’ll keep that in mind,” she signed.
The boss nodded after Johnny translated for him. A few moments later, he pulled a small pizza from the oven, piled high with gooey cheese. With a snap of his wrists, he had the thing carved in six even pieces. He slid the whole thing onto a handful of paper plates and slapped it on the counter.
“Eat up,” he ordered. Soledad made to pull out her envelope of money, but he shouted at her. “Nah, I don’t want none of that. The hell do you think I am? What kind of asshole takes money from a starving, runaway kid? Well, I tell you what. Joey Alberti ain’t that kind of asshole.”
Soledad, for the first time in a while, felt relieved. What kind of miracle did she stumble upon that the first people she met in New York didn’t want to take advantage of her. She felt like crying.
‘Thank you,’ she signed.
“Ahh, I know what that one means,” Joey Alberti said. He had a smile on his face now, a stark contrast to the sour expression he wore before. “Don’t mention it, kid.”
Soledad felt like hugging the man, but that would be weird.
So she stuffed the still-steaming pizza in her mouth instead.
So. A problem.
None of the hostels would let her book a bed without some kind of ID. Nancy hadn’t let her take driving classes or get her license, and her birth certificate was locked away in a safety deposit box along with the rest of her paperwork. Like her inheritance, she couldn’t get to it until she was 18. So even if she was old enough to stay there on her own, she couldn’t prove it.
And hotels were out of the question. Even if she was old enough to book a hotel room (which she wasn’t) they were too damn expensive. She’d lose most of her remaining money on a night’s stay.
So, streets it was. At least until she could come up with something else. It was cloudy, and a bit on the cold end, which was only a sign of worse weather to come. Maybe that Joey Alberti guy could give her a job so she could earn money and rent a room from someone. Wait...how many hours did someone have to work in order to afford rent in New York?
Soledad passed by a narrow alleyway between some kind of giant office building and a rundown-looking gym of some kind. She paused, hearing a clattering sound deep in the shadowy passage. She stared into the darkness for a long second, waiting. No new noises followed the original caterwaul. Must have been a rat or something, she thought with a shrug. She moved on, not paying it much mind.
That is, until half a block later when she got the sinking feeling someone was following her. She glanced over her shoulder, trying not to make it obvious. A couple of guys were just a few paces behind her, looking like they’re dressed to go to a dojo in some 80s martial arts movie. Even their faces were covered. Soledad felt the cold claw of dread grip her stomach.
At the first opportunity, she bolted down a side street, backpack bouncing as she ran. Screw finding a place to hunker down for the night, she needed to lose these assholes first. All she had to do was zigzag a bit through the city. No big deal, right?
Well, it wouldn’t be if the first alleyway she turned down wasn’t a dead end.
Soledad hissed a curse under her breath, her vocal chords protesting slightly. She looked this way and that, begging God for some kind of escape. There was a fire escape, but that’d do nothing but trap Soledad up on a rooftop.
“Well, well.” Soledad whipped around, seeing her pursuers had not only caught up to her already, but had multiplied. Instead of two or three, there were now something like twelve ninja-looking guys. One of them in a bit more ornate ninja costume stepped forward. He spoke again, “Little mouse thinks she can see the Foot Clan and just walk away.”
“I didn’t see!” She shouted, her voice coming out as nothing more than a whispered rasp. Her throat burned at the attempt at speaking. “I didn’t see anything!”
“Even if you say so, that’s not a chance we can take,” the ninja leader said, pulling out a wicked looking dagger. “So sorry, child.”
Soledad flinched, hiding her face behind her arms as she waited for the pain. But it never came. Instead, there was the strangely muted sound of conflict. She lowered her hands, finding four strangely shaped shadows taking down the small army of ninja. The cloud cover cleared overhead, and Soledad saw green.
Four green turtle men were fighting off the ninjas. Soledad pressed her back up against the wall, fear making her knees weak as she tried to process all of this. Turtles. Mutant Turtle Ninjas. Were fighting human ninjas who wanted to kill her. Human ninjas who wanted to kill her for supposedly seeing them. Which she did not, in fact, see them. But they wanted to kill her anyway.
She should have stayed in fucking Bridgeport.