The next morning dawned in typical city fashion. Not quite bright enough to fuel my purpose, and bringing too much noise too be able to continue to sleep through. I stretched out, looking over my battered jeans, bloody knees sticking out through rips. I found it hard to believe that yesterday these jeans were brand new, or at least looked like it. I stood up, unbraiding my hair, wincing at the pain of the roots moving the sensitive flesh.

I've always been rather vain about my hair, and I feel that I've been right in this vanity. As I saw the blonde strands caked in blood I almost felt more faint then when I'd realized what had happened to me. I gently finger combed my hair, then gently pulled it back again. My gentle detangling had caused the wound to open up again and I nearly cried again in frustration.

By then the first of the Newsies were out peddling the papers to those who were on their way to work I dug into my pocket and pulled out a penny that I had from yesterday's begging. I knew better then to try and sell newspapers, I looked too old. And I had no where to sell, and no one had a reason to buy from a girl who quite frankly looked as messed up as I did.

As I headed over to a newsboy on the corner I mentally reorder my plan that I had set up for myself. I needed clothing. That annoyed me, I had hoped somewhere in my mind that my clothing would be close enough to allow me to make more money before I had to buy some. It was not so. The jeans hindered me more then anything else, and if I bought a long enough skirt then I would be alright. At least until I could afford a better shirt and woman's shoes.

The newsboy looked me over, his dark eyes evaluating me. I felt his stare even as he sold to a man passing by. And I wondered, what was he seeing in me? Did he see how terrified I was to be standing on this corner? Did he see what a faker I was? His eyes rested on the holes in my jeans.

"Pape ma'am?" He asked. I nodded handing him the penny. He looked at it pocketing the measly sum and handed me a paper. Twenty third of September. I was slightly relieved. I had a good two months before it got really cold. I took my paper down to a stoop of a seemingly free building. I don't remember the stories, or the headlines only the day, month and year. Twenty third of September in the year 1899.

I knew I wouldn't need to buy a paper, and I also knew I shouldn't have bought one. That was a penny that I would need to earn twice. I was going to have to be more intelligent about my spending habits, which were woefully bad. I was in the habit of buying stuff I really didn't need, at all. And now I was going to have to scrimp and save for things I needed. I would have to find some really cheap clothing, maybe even free. The churches might have a rag bundle that I could get something from. I decided that was my task for the day, to get a skirt, which would allow me to stay in a flophouse without having my reputation called into question. That would allow me to set up a home in which to get a better job.

I didn't even think of getting back. I didn't know how I had gotten here, how in the world would I get back? As I wandered around looking for a church, peaking into the large cavernous chambers. I finally reached a nunnery where I entered and the woman didn't look at me as though I was a burden.

I asked one of the nuns if she had any free clothing, though I think I worded it better. This was if possible more shaming then anything else, including the begging. Because now I had to watch the nun evaluate me.

"Please Sister" I begged softly, "My pa beats me and…" an older nun walked over, her eyes were tough. And the wrinkles around her eyes were not revealing if they were there from laughter or anger.

"Save the pity story." She said strictly. I shut up. The woman looked me over, "Come with me child."

For an instant I wondered if the woman was going to strike me for lying, for it seemed she knew all, and knew I had been lying. For a second I remembered a series of books where time travelers lost their shadow. I peered behind, only to see the dark out line of myself trailing behind. So much for that theory, no matter how flimsy. I was lead into a simple room with a large crucifix overlooking a desk. The woman took a seat. I realized she was the mother superior. And suddenly I was terrified that she would make me say a hail Mary or a rosary before giving me any clothing. My mother hated the Catholic church, and purposefully neglected my upbringing in the church. While I am baptized there isn't much else to it, and I was only baptized to stop my Irish catholic grandmother from kidnapping me and doing it herself.

"I don't want to hear some pity story" The woman said "You should be ashamed to lie to a nun." Her words were plain. "I can see as well as anyone else that you are in better health then most. What were you running from?"

"Its just circumstance that has me like this!" I said quickly. "I only have a nickel" I corrected my self "Four cents to my name and no way to make a living!"

The woman's brown eyes inspected me, very much in how I assume she would inspect a sinner kneeling for forgiveness. "Well, you seem learned enough. I'm sure I can help you."

I waited standing uncomfortably to hear the second half of that statement. The one I knew was coming. I am not disillusioned enough in my life to belive that things come for free.

"There is a church run boarding house for the orphans of the street. I'm sure they could use your help. There are others your age, and plenty of freedom allowed. You are under eighteen, correct?"

"I'll turn 18 in" I calculated "Three months ma'am" It was really more like two.

"After you turn 18 you'll be able to chooses to stay as a nun or to make your luck on the street. If someone comes to claim you, you should be able to explain to me why you wouldn't be able to go with them or I will send you with them."

That was no worry, no one would be looking for me here.

And it solved two important issues for me. One they would give me clothing and two I would have a home for two months. After they would probably be able to give me a reference to a job somewhere.

Author's notes: Yay! More of this! Give me imput! Help me out! Please!