Let's See What You're Not

Shim

People in smart business suits really get on my nerves. They rush around everywhere with their briefcases and think that they’re better than everyone else. You should see the looks they give me! It’s sick.

I'm playing in the middle of town at the moment. I know I'm more likely to get asked if I have a licence or not for street performing here than anywhere else, but there’s loads of tourists and people in town, so I can get more money here. That’s my logic. There’s more to gain here, even if it is more risky.

A man just dropped a ten pound note into my guitar case. I smiled so much when he did that. I then noticed that he was one of those people in suits that normally just walk by and ignore me. He was different though, and I like that.

“Thank you so much,” I smiled gratefully.

He stopped and watched me play for quite a while. Part of me felt a little safer with him being there with me. It was a good feeling.

So not only is he a generous person in a suit, but he’s also not rushing around. How many stereotypes can you break? Ha, this guy seems nothing like most people that look like him.

When I finished my next song I decided to take a break and talk to the man who was there watching me. He did just give me a load of money; I might as well talk to him. He looked older than he seemed before. Maybe he’s some wise old guy.

“You did a pretty good job there kid,” he smiled at me as I walked over to him after putting my guitar in the case again and putting the money I’d just made into my bag.

“Thanks. And I really do appreciate the money,” I told him calmly.

“How old are you?” he asked. “You seem pretty young to be out on the streets.”

“Old enough,” I told him. I can trust this guy though, so I might as well be a little more precise. “Seventeen.”

“Same age as my son,” he sighed. “Look, I’ve got a twenty here,” he smiled as he pulled some money out of his wallet. “Take it.”

I stared at it for a second. It’d be a lot more polite if I refused, but I really need the money and it’s not like he’d offer it to me if he didn't want me to have it.

“Thank you,” I said quietly as I took it from him.

“Look after yourself kid,” he told me, putting a hand on my shoulder. “These parts can be pretty rough at times.”

“I know,” I responded. “I can take of myself,” I said strongly.

He nodded at me.

“I might see you around then,” he smiled. “I didn't catch your name,” he said just as he was about to walk away.

“That’s ‘cause I didn't give you it,” I smirked.

He nodded his head again before walking off. I needed to head the same way as him but I thought it would be sort of awkward if we just said goodbye to each other and then we wound up walking with each other for a while afterwards.

Once he’d had a pretty good head start I grabbed all of my things and headed back to the pier. There are some public toilets just at the front of the pier and they were open now so I quickly went in there and ‘took care of business’. I knew I needed a wash, but this place is seriously mank. I can’t... I can’t get sorted in here. Some days I have to, but the jocks sort of gave me a wash today... Maybe that’ll do?

I actually wanted to throw up from the smell of the small room. As soon as I could get out, I did, and I took in the fresh air with a load of deep breaths. It smells much better our here, even if it reeks of fish and the harbour now.

“Watch it kid,” some big scruffy guy huffed at me as he barged into me from behind.

I’ve seen him around a few times so I know he lives on the streets too. He usually has this other guy with him. They’re both a lot older and rougher looking than me, but so far we’ve had no trouble with each other.

“Sorry,” I whispered, moving out of his way.

There was a large skip outside the toilets and it was filled with rubbish. That was where Frizzy (the nickname I’ve given to the guy who just barged into me – he has really long matted hair) and Black Beard (his friend who has a black beard – creative, right?) sleep at night. I'm guessing they’re a lot warmer than me at night. I'm right out at the end of the pier, and they’re surrounded by warm bin bags as well as each other.

I watched as he climbed into the skip. I then noticed that Black Beard was already in there.

Having a friend must make all of this slightly better for you. I wouldn't know though. I don’t have any friends, remember?

When I walked past the skip to get onto the pier they were both watching me. I’ve got a feeling I'm not going to sleep much tonight. I'm going end up staying up on look out to make sure they don’t steal my stuff. This is the life...

“Oy kid,” Black Beard shouted me. He sounded a little drunk, but if I'm honest those two seem drunk the majority of the time. “Got any food on ya?” he asked me.

I've got a packet of crisps that I was saving from Mark’s lunch, but that’s it at the moment. Should I give it them? If I do they might watch my back or something. But then they might keep asking me for more... Oh I don’t know.

“No mate,” I shouted back to them nervously.

It was getting really dark now and although I'm sort of used to sleeping out here now, it’s still a little bit creepy.

“What about money?” Frizzy shouted. His voice is freakishly deep.

I started shaking then. He can’t take my money. I need this.

“N-no,” I told them.

“Don't lie,” he snapped.

I could just about see two shadowy figures climbing up out of the skip. I had to run. My feet wouldn't listen though.

“The suit guy gave you at least a ten back there,” Frizz reminded me as they got closer.

I bit my lip but didn't say anything to them.

“Give us a share,” Black Beard snarled. I remained quiet though. “Alright, a trade. Give us... twenty and we won’t break you or that smart looking guitar you’ve got there.”

“I need it,” I mumbled, but they were now close enough to hear so it didn't really matter.

“Don't be stupid,” Frizz frowned. “We’re nice guys boy, give us the money, and I’ll throw in some booze for ya too,” he smiled.

I don’t drink.

I don’t have much choice right now though... I stuck my hand into my pocket and picked out the twenty that the man gave me earlier on.

“There,” I said sharply. “And stick ya booze,” I hissed before flipping them off and carrying on walking down the pier.

I sat down in my usual spot and pulled the blanket out. My head was killing me and I actually thought I was going to throw up. Why do people have to be like them? It’s not fair.

I pulled my notebook out again and scribbled down some lyrics that were running through my head. I should’ve known better...

Tell me when it's over
Wake me when I'm sober
The scars too hard to hide
I should've known better
If only I could be strong enough to see that it's over
I wish I'd never met you
'Cause you were supposed to be coming back to me
Where are you now?
I should've known better

I genuinely thought my parents would miss me. I expected them to want me back. I thought if I pulled some stunt like that then they’d come back to me.

Ha, those lyrics are so true. I should’ve known way bloody better.