People usually have one of two opinions of California, she'd found. They either thought she was pretty cool, or they thought she was just bad news. And she fit the role of both, just by appearance. If her snakebites, dark makeup and colored hair didn't do it, the tattoos on both her wrists and on either side of her face by her eyes usually did. Her actions, and aspects of her personality also fit the bad girl stereotype. Like, how she smoked, and cussed, and would skip classes sometimes, and occasionally drank alcohol if she really felt like it... And last, but not least, how she packed up her most important and favorite belongings, stole her entire college fund, and ran away from home to chase big artistic dreams in New York City.
It was mainly because her parents directly told her that she was not going to become an artist, and that it was not a real career. And lets not forget how they told her she didn't have enough talent anyway. That, along with being hated or simply disliked by virtually everyone in her perfect little hometown, was what drove her off.
California was always a very optimistic girl. So a cross-country journey from California to New York City, armed only with her ratty old green backpack full of pencils and pens, her sketch book, a couple blankets, her iPod and a few different outfits seemed like an easy achievement to her. And it was at first...until her $1,500 dollars became just $100. Yeah, that was defiantly a setback in her perfect little plan. Especially since it stuck her in some town she?d never heard of in God knows which state, leaving her to try to earn enough money to carry on. It'd been three days so far, and her innocent little acts and made up sob stories, and two accounts of theft only earned her another fifty bucks... definitely not enough. Especially when the necessities costed as much as they did.
As if the immediate moment, California found herself in one of the busier parts of town, begging for money and cigarettes, and every once in awhile attempting to steal a wallet or purse...which was never successful. She didn't like resorting to theft...but she was getting desperate.
She was taking a little break, at the moment, sitting on the curbside. Well, a kind of break. Because she was still asking people if they could spare a smoke, or if she could get some money for a carton. Also unsuccessful up to this point. California was almost ready to cave in and use what money she did have to buy a carton. With her fake I.D of course...seventeen years old weren't legal to smoke. Besides needing her dose of nicotine, she also needed to get herself fed and hydrated, which she hadn't done since yesterday morning. It wasn't good for her of course...but she had to make a lot of sacrifices like that to keep a decent amount of money.
"Hey, spare a smoke?" she asked a man who'd just lit himself up one of the 'cancer sticks'. "No, sorry kid." the man replied, walking by California quickly. Well fuck you too the teenager replied internally, frowning as she looked back towards the street again, propping her elbows on her thighs to cradle her head in her palms, trying to evade looking at the liquor store that was only a little ways away, and would be the only thing to promise her her precious cigarettes...and some alcohol too. Because her I.D did state that she was twenty-one after all...
And it was getting harder, and harder to keep from walking over there. But she had to wait a little longer. Just in case someone actually did spare a smoke. Because yeah, one would be enough to satisfy her for now.
Source: http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/RolePlayGateway/~3/gn1h8xJHu1s/viewtopic.php
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