(no subject)
Stay a step ahead of everyone else.
Kim sleeps on the side of the room farthest from the window, so that the sunrise hits her first, before the boys. When she wakes up, she very carefully and quietly wraps herself in her blanket to change whatever clothes need changing. She's gotten good at it; she's only been caught once by another light sleeper, a boy a year older (they thought) than her. He'd given her a knowing look and accused her in a whisper of having a wank. She'd been so relieved that he hadn't seen anything incriminating that she confirmed it, and put up with a month of jokes from the boys.
***
Stay quiet.
The boys her age -- past fourteen, not yet fifteen -- are starting to speak in voices that crack in a way Kim can't imitate. Safer to not say anything, most of the time, than try to sound like them. For now, though, it's all right if her voice is sometimes high and piping instead of rough. After all, so's Dick's, and he's months older than she is.
Anyway, it's not the boys she has to worry about noticing. They've known each other too long for them to notice much change, or lack thereof, in one of their number. It's the rest of the canting crew, the market folk, greedy-eyed soft-handed Dan Laverham, that need a boyish tone. If they wake up to something odd about her, Kim's sunk. Some people are fond of making decisions for you if they can, Desmotes had said. Too right, she knows -- but not if they never notice you in the first place.
***
Ignore it.
When Jenny remarks to Tom what a pretty boy that Kim is--
When she brushes up against Charlie, who has fingers almost as clever as hers and green eyes, and her stomach twists like it does when she hears a sound on a crack lay--
When a cull casually shoves her in a distracted moment, and she falls and scrapes her knees--
When lightskirts pass her on the street with their johns in tow, looking for an empty alley or a vacant room--
When a lightskirt passes with Charlie in tow--
She ignores it. Disappointment and confusion aren't helpful; fear is only useful when it pushes you to survive.
***
Do it by yourself.
She can bandage her own scrapes -- sloppily, but well enough -- and darn her own clothes. So can all the boys, of course. Mother Tibb refuses to coddle any of them.
Kim washes by herself, too, after all the others are done -- face, neck, hands, and hair. And while the boys will step into the mouth of an alley and take a piss against the wall, still talking together, Kim slips into the shadows when no one's looking and does her necessities quickly, quietly, alone.
***
Keep your distance.
A few years ago, they slept in a tangle to keep warm, and roughhoused and shoved each other with abandon. Now, Kim still gives as good as she gets if the boys are horsing around, but she doesn't wrestle anymore. She doesn't think she's got enough of anything for them to notice -- but she won't take the chance.
***
Survive.
It's all second nature.
Kim sleeps on the side of the room farthest from the window, so that the sunrise hits her first, before the boys. When she wakes up, she very carefully and quietly wraps herself in her blanket to change whatever clothes need changing. She's gotten good at it; she's only been caught once by another light sleeper, a boy a year older (they thought) than her. He'd given her a knowing look and accused her in a whisper of having a wank. She'd been so relieved that he hadn't seen anything incriminating that she confirmed it, and put up with a month of jokes from the boys.
***
Stay quiet.
The boys her age -- past fourteen, not yet fifteen -- are starting to speak in voices that crack in a way Kim can't imitate. Safer to not say anything, most of the time, than try to sound like them. For now, though, it's all right if her voice is sometimes high and piping instead of rough. After all, so's Dick's, and he's months older than she is.
Anyway, it's not the boys she has to worry about noticing. They've known each other too long for them to notice much change, or lack thereof, in one of their number. It's the rest of the canting crew, the market folk, greedy-eyed soft-handed Dan Laverham, that need a boyish tone. If they wake up to something odd about her, Kim's sunk. Some people are fond of making decisions for you if they can, Desmotes had said. Too right, she knows -- but not if they never notice you in the first place.
***
Ignore it.
When Jenny remarks to Tom what a pretty boy that Kim is--
When she brushes up against Charlie, who has fingers almost as clever as hers and green eyes, and her stomach twists like it does when she hears a sound on a crack lay--
When a cull casually shoves her in a distracted moment, and she falls and scrapes her knees--
When lightskirts pass her on the street with their johns in tow, looking for an empty alley or a vacant room--
When a lightskirt passes with Charlie in tow--
She ignores it. Disappointment and confusion aren't helpful; fear is only useful when it pushes you to survive.
***
Do it by yourself.
She can bandage her own scrapes -- sloppily, but well enough -- and darn her own clothes. So can all the boys, of course. Mother Tibb refuses to coddle any of them.
Kim washes by herself, too, after all the others are done -- face, neck, hands, and hair. And while the boys will step into the mouth of an alley and take a piss against the wall, still talking together, Kim slips into the shadows when no one's looking and does her necessities quickly, quietly, alone.
***
Keep your distance.
A few years ago, they slept in a tangle to keep warm, and roughhoused and shoved each other with abandon. Now, Kim still gives as good as she gets if the boys are horsing around, but she doesn't wrestle anymore. She doesn't think she's got enough of anything for them to notice -- but she won't take the chance.
***
Survive.
It's all second nature.