Young Writers Society

Setting: New York City, New York, Present Day. Occasional trips outside the city.

Plot: There are people in New York with something back home they'd like to hide. They somehow all meet in NYC, and their shenanigans, for lack of a better word, are what we write. However, what happens in New York, stays in New York. So what happens when the characters go home?

Rules: Standard. Romance allowed. Just see where things go between characters. Also, it's the real world. No magic or anything like that.

Expectations: Help a sister out and be active. Like post as often as possible. Other than that, let's write an interesting story. I wanna be proud when I read this in five years.

@AliceinBluue @saentiel @kat13254 @Sacredlege if you guys wanna join I'd love to have you.

Sierra

Concept art, I thought, sitting in the slightly run-down diner. It wasn't the place people would think that I would hang out, but it reminded me of home in that everything was old and you couldn't trust most of the people you were surrounded by. Why did my professor have to assign us concept art.

My eyes flitted over the different aspects of my sketch, noting areas that I needed to go back and work on as I took another bite of my food. The grease on the food would've triggered my gag reflex a year ago, but I was used to it by now.

I heard a small clink, and I bent down to pick up my pencil from its new resting place on the floor.

Math

He smirked at the cashier as he walked out of the convenience store, stashing his hands in his hoodie. "See you 'round, Rebecca," he waved at the red-haired girl, "I'll call you about my friend later, he'll hook you up with the goods."

Rebecca seemed to giggle at that, and he grinned all the way to the alley next to the story. He looked to his side, and once he was sure nobody was looking, he dropped the grin like a pebble in water, pulling out the week's offerings.

He had only managed to get a Cup Noodle, four packets of bubblegum, some crackers and two cans of tuna. It'd last him the following days if he stuck around the Bronx, but he wasn't one to stick around. Not now, anyway.

He glanced at the bubblegum. He crushed it in his hand, flinching.

"Matthew Montgomery?"

He snapped behind him, instinctively hiding his earnings. The alley was empty. Dim light from the streetlamps and the neon of the convenience store seeped into the darkness, illuminating the garbage bin, but not much else. He narrowed his eyes. He could've sworn he heard--

No. it didn't matter who he heard.

He looked at his wrist, even though he already knew the time. Eight. He was late for his little 'Troubled Teens Talk' meeting. It was a small assembly at a church downtown, supposedly meant to be an Alcoholics Anonymous-type thing, but for troubled teens. Runaways, domestic abuse victims, kids involved in gang-violence, thieves, beggars, all sorts of stripes and colors. He was a little too old to fit the description, but he was a long time veteran and he'd been invited to initiate the new kids.

And besides. He knew it wasn't just another preppy pep talk meeting anyway.

He picked up his earnings, and hoped it would be a good offering for today's meeting. He wasn't in a rush, though. As he walked to St. Patrick's Cathedral, he daydreamed about the taste of sweet lemon tea on a hot summers day.

Sierra

As my fingers closed around my pencil, I noticed a crumpled flyer on the ground for a "support group" for "troubled teens." They didn't give details about what they meant by troubled teens - just a time and place.

I bit my lip, wondering if my past would classify me as troubled? Sure, I had my demons, and there were reasons I arrived in New York alone at the ripe old age if sixteen. But part of me couldn't help but think these people would turn me in to the police just to collect the reward money my parents were offering for my "safe return home."

The Cathedral was a block down the street I was on, and so I decided that it couldn't hurt me to go. Maybe there would be someone who understood, though I knew that would be a long shot. Paying for my food, I smoothed out and folded the crumpled flyer before slipping it into my pocket and slipping out of the diner and making my way to the looming building and knocking on the door.

Math

His mind had wandered to suburban porches when he reached the Cathedral, its steeples high and mighty, glaring at the traffic on the street beside him. He didn't care for religion, but it intrigued him. Or maybe it reminded him of--

His pace quickened. He didn't wave to the pastor present, instead walking to the back of the church, behind the altar, finding a staircase that led to the basement. He heard the chatter ten steps away from the winding stairs, and he entered, seeing familiar and foreign faces bustling to and fro.

"Ah, Math, buddy," a seedy blond man stood from his foldable chair, one of the many chairs drawn in a circle to accomodate the members. "Good to see you. Almost thought you were bailing on us."

Math tried a grin. "Had to pick up some things for the kids, Sam," he chuckled, pulling out his stuff, "Though I don't think it'll be enough for the whole gang."

"Oh, what, these?" Sam gestured to the rowdy kids in the circle. "Nah, these aren't yours. You've got some new blood that needs teaching."

Math's grin fell, but he tried it on again. "Oh?"

Sam smirked. "Both girls." Sam pulled Math close, dragging him to the door on the other side of the room. The blond chuckled, whispering: "Both cute, if you ask me."

Math pretended to be amused. Sam handed him a notepad, and Math read through the notes on it as he opened the door. "Runaways, huh?" Math couldn't help but sound frustrated. "Well, we'll see what we can make out of 'em."

"Thatta lad," Sam patted Math on the back. Math shot the other man a glare, and Sam thought twice about doing it again. "Well, uh. Enjoy your meeting, mate."

Sam backed away. Math's eyes followed him for a little while, before turning to the inside of the room. Two girls stared back. For a split second, and only for a split second, he frowned.

Sofia

Thank God I am here, I say in my head as I'm walking out of the airport. I grew up around here but when my (now)ex-boyfriend took me in he got me half way across the country. Now I'm here again. I silently cursed on myself for being so weakwilled, but hey, this place is sentimental. I scratch my arm and flinch, one of the last places on me that's sore. They think I'm still half way across the country, and they're moving around in the outsides of the city so much they'll never come in here.
I just realized I'm wandering, damnit. I didn't think about how I'd be getting to my aunts. I say my aunts, but she spends pretty much all her time at her cousins(I swear there's something not nice between them... Ew I don't even want to think about it)
I don't have much money, only the stuff he gave me when we split. Even if he was an ass he still cared enough about me to harbour me for a few weeks, and even when we broke up, gave me money and a plane ticket to anywhere because he knows how bad it used to be at home.
I thankfully finished high school before running away, so if I can find a way to get to a college I'll do it. Although that poses the risks of them finding me... Damn. This is gonna be harder than I thought.
I step inside a little shop hoping to grab a quick bite to eat, when I see a sign.
Troubled Youth Talk it said. Now I wouldn't consider myself troubled in the delinquency aspect, well maybe. My ex had us doing some shady stuff. But aside from that I've always been a good kid. I knew how to lie my way out of anything, a habit i learned from the wonderful Mrs. And Mr. Rose.
Damn I hated them. If everything goes well I'll never have to see them again
I look closer at the sign and see it mentions abuse victims, and I think maybe... Just maybe I'll go check it out. I grab a napkin and write the place and time, committing it to memory. Maybe it'll help.
~~~
I find myself in the basement of a church, with another girl,
"Hey, what's your name?" I ask quietly trying to make conversation. I sit quietly for a minute when she doesn't reply I make a mmhmm noise and act like she answered,
"I'm Sofia." I open my mouth to say something else when I get cut off by someone walking in. I'm kinda mesmerized and just sit there looking like an idiot with my mouth open, quickly shutting it when I realize. I feel like an idiot.

Sierra

A dude answered the door and led me to a room with another girl. He shut the door, then left, and I choked back worry that he was going to turn me in to the police.

The other girl murmured something, but I ignored her as I opened my sketchbook and continued my project. It was something that my semester grade depended on, and I couldn't afford to fail another class. As someone completely dependent on scholarships, I needed the money they provided.

I looked up at the words printed in the top right hand corner of the page. Shadow Warrior. The figure on my page, however, looked more like someone out of a medieval painting. Sighing, I flipped the page and had just put my pencil to the new page again when someone entered.

Once again, my head moved upwards, and I drank in his appearance. He looked young. Older than me, but still young. I aged him at most to be 22, no younger than 19. He was dressed in a fashion I might see on younger guys at the diner, or in the hip-hop program at NYU. He had dark eyes and dark skin, and short hair. It suited the vibes I got from him well.

I cleared my throat. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"

Math

Math glared at the blond girl, before straightening his back and breathing in. Right. "I'm glad you asked, Ms. Luciano," he said in the softest voice possible, "Math. Just Math. I'll be your counselor for today, since my friend Samuel's handling the older kids."

He looked at both of the girls present. He could tell the purple-haired one, despite her small frame and sheltered appearance, must've had more experience than the blond. She (Sofia, he think was her name) waited before asking questions to a guy twice her size, for one, and she had the posture and clothing of a battered child. That one he could, perhaps, understand better.

"Sit down, please," he gestured to Sierra's seat, as he took the main chair in one of the angles of the chair triangle they had made. "I have a couple of questions for you two, before we start. However, I'm glad you both came. It's a step in the process of getting better and moving on from your experiences."

He read the room. Neither Sofia nor Sierra seemed to buy the schtick. He chuckled, pulling out his bubblegum. "Gum?" he pulled out a slice for himself, before offering the rest to them.

Sofia

Math, or as I decide I want to call him, Just Math(in the most mocking way I could, I mean hell, this place is for delinquency, might as well let out my sharp tongue), holds out a piece of gum, I put my hand up as to say no, and let a slight smirk come on my face.
"So, just Math if you're supposed to be the leader here why do you look more delinquent than everyone else. That and the fact this place is a damn church, and you don't look even a bit religious" I pause before continuing,"although hell I can't blame you. Religion makes me want to hang myself up in the rafters. I know how scummy religious nuts can be."
I want to see just how committed he is to this whole recovery thing... let's see if implying he's gay sets him off, if my Last comment didn't.
"So, you must be used to being in this church because people don't approve of your boyfriend."
My mind wanders to him getting all in my face and in my head creating sexual tension which doesn't exist(an extremely bad habit of mine). I can feel my face become hot and flushed and look down at the ground dropping the attitude quickly. Damnit Sofia,why do you always do this to yourself. Make yourself feel like there's something there that there isn't.

Math

Sharp-tongued. He wasn't particularly pleased, but he wasn't surprised either.

"Boyfriend, huh?" he laughed. "You must've met my stalker, then. I wouldn't give him the time of day, he's been trailing me since I came here back in..." he considered the calendar. "Well, last year's Christmas, I think."

He was still holding the stick of gum, despite getting a no already. He notes the red look on Sofia's face. Curious. "You say church makes you uncomfortable," he says. He turns to Sierra. "Is that how you both feel? Any reason in particular for why you'd feel that way?"

Sofia

I shrug, that was an easy one,
"My parents were criminal drug addicts who fronted as being an extremely religious "picturesque" household. They dragged me into religion and...never mind that last part isn't important. Now just Math, why do you find yourself here in church?"
It came out slightly more hostile than I intended, but damn, not my fault I have myself all worked because of my imagination.
I refuse to look him in the eye instead take in the room around me and shiver. God I hate churches. All the Jesus symbols, makes me gag. Sierra,she's quiet, not saying she isn't able to be more loud,but by the way her nose has constantly been in her sketchbook it doesn't suprise me. She's quite a bit like my older sister. Where I turned to drugs to deal with everything, she turned to art. I mean her way is much more productive, but hey I stopped all that now. That's all in the past.

Math

Math stared at Sofia. Red cheeks, crossed legs. Is she...?

"Ah," he smirked. "Well, I'm sorry to hear that, Sofia. I can call you Sofia, yeah?"

"As for me," he widened his legs just slightly, leaning forward while chewing his gum. "I've been on and off here since I was sixteen. Moved out of town, returned with a vengeance, got forced back in, that sort of thing. Though I'll let you in on a secret," he arched a brow at Sofia, specifically. "We're not a bunch of choirkids. We haven't been in years."

Sofia

"When you walked in here I figured this was some sort of ploy, but I stayed didn't I?" I grab the piece of gum he was still holding in his hand, purposefully trying to act cheeky.
"Now to as what this group actually does, it interests me. I have family on the outskirts of town, and I've been staying at my aunts, who spends most of her time fucking her cousin. Gross I know. So I never see her, but she gives me some money for food. My only issue is if my parents find out I'm back in town. So as long as I'm staying out of the public eye I'm down for anything. This would be just up my exes alley, too bad he's an asshole who thinks fucking another girl is an excusable thing." I mumble under my breath"It would've been if he'd inclu-" I realize I was speaking out loud and stop myself. Damnit why am I such an embarrassment.

Math

Was she going to say "It would've been if he'd included me?" Kinky.

"Well, I can't tell either of you what's going on until I get a hold of your abilities," he leaned back in his chair, preparing his notepad. "You seem to be familiar with the ropes, Sofia. Can you handle a gun? Any martial arts training? Boxing works, too."

He looked at Sierra. Sierra looked terrified. "Same goes for you, kid. Unless you want to back out?" Math scoffed. "You don't look like the troubled type, I'll be real here."