Strolling beneath the sunset, the windows of every tall office building looming overhead gradually flickers to life in a soft yellow glow, lighting the darkening sky as if it was on fire. Every now and then, a warplane can be seen roaring overhead, determined in its return from some faraway place Thredson will never see.
They say the war is ending soon, but he’s seen enough in his the few years he’s lived that he’ll believe it when he sees it. A freshman in high school now, Thredson goes to school and works small odd jobs here and there for pocket money. He wasn’t one to blend into the preppy Oxford crowds with pastel button-downs and penny loafers, or fuzzy sweaters and poodle skirts. Nor was he one for the hoodlums with greasy hair and a leather jacket to match. To the other kids, he was always just Thredson–a tall lanky kid in worn hand-me-down blue jeans rolled up at the ankle, a short sleeve collar shirt, and some plain pullover sweater to match. A loner. And that’s just the way he liked it.
Tonight, he wasn’t particularly eager to return to the orphanage right away, choosing to wander the streets alone until his tennis shoes stopped in front of something familiar. From beneath heavy brows, he stared up at the brilliantly glowing marquee of the in-door movie theatre downtown. Thursday nights are quietest. Even better? Late nights meant he could spend the evening alone save for a few bodies occupying random seats across the theatre floor. For once, the idiots at the home would spend most of the night scurrying around town looking for their troublesome charge like fretful mice. It wasn’t as if it mattered really. One punishment was just like any other, the only difference is you could never be certain of when it was coming. And he would bear every one of them, whether a paddling or the leather crop as if it didn’t bother him because he was raised that boys don’t cry.
Sometimes he didn’t return that same night or the next night for that matter. Listening to a crowd of whining boys bicker, complaining about school and the social lives that didn’t exist wasn’t exactly at the top of his list. They were either a) too naïve or b) too clueless to realize they were outcasts compared to everyone else. An orphan, the preordained destiny that led to a life of crime that would never amount to anything from the day they took their first breath. At some point, he’d decided he wouldn’t be like the others who ripped off sweets or anything else they wanted from the local shops before they made run for it.
‘One day...but not today,’ he thought to himself as he slipped down the nearby darkened alleyway. Stealing a glance to the growing crowd near the front of the theatre, he then ducked inside the back door because like the others he was running from, he, too, was just as broke tonight.
