The Unexpected War of a Foreign Soldier

She didn't really know why she was talking to him either, as normally she lurked in the shadows and kept to herself. She found her cheeks turning a bit pink as she glanced down, and her heart sank a little.


Is this really what she had missed in all these years? Is this what it felt like to have friends? She blanched a little at that idea, ashamed of it. Friends? No one would ever desire that with her!


Her eyes slipped up to the can shyly and she finally felt a little more comfortable stating the facts. "I...I can't open it.."
 
He blinked at her statement. "O-Oh.." But of course! He had assumed that, seeing as she was homeless, she would at least have a can opener. It was the most essential tool when living on the streets hands down, so it would make sense that it would be one of the very first things homeless people try to get their grubby hands on.


So much for assuming, eh?


His smile grew a bit wider, soft and assuring. "No problem, I'll open it for you if you'd like," he offered, removing a knife from his back pocket and beginning to cut open the top at the rim. Not a pocket knife, but a survival knife, hollow in handle and possessing an O-ring seal on the pommel cap. A gift from his father, it was. Never left home without it.
 
She crept closer to him, once more filled with awe, but her movements were cautious, like a wild doe worried about a possible predator. She stared at the knife as he cut the can, and her stomach let loose a loud rumble. Blushing, she looked up quickly, hoping he hadn't noticed.


Now why hadn't she ever gotten one of those? It seemed silly that she had never considered acquiring a knife, and instead had only relied on easily opened food. If only she had thought things through, her diet could be so much greater in variety!


Without thinking, she timidly reached forward to touch a finger against the handle, as though feeling it be a fascinating thing.
 
He was almost done opening the can when her slender digits hesitantly extended to the handle. Glancing at her expression, he stated, "it's easier with an actual can opener, but this works too."


She didn't look to be the type who would steal so upfrontly, but his grasp on the knife had tightened ever so slightly. It was reasonable, it being his most treasured possession.


Once the top was off, he placed the knife back in his back pocket and held the can out her once again. "There you go, all ready to dig in," he stated with a warm smile.
 
She jerked a little bit as he continued cutting, a little afraid of the knife, and then she remembered part of the reason she never carried a knife. Subconsciously she shifted her weight a little and accepted the can of beans.


For a moment, she could only stared down at it, and as embarrassed as she was, she was fare more hungry. She bent her fingers and began to scoop them out of the can and into her mouth a little sloppily, practically swallowing the contents down with little regard to chewing.
 
As she began to eat the contents, he stated, "I have to get going now.. it was nice meeting you," then proceeded to backtrack out of the ally.


Helping others was something he liked to do, but never when he had to sacrifice anything. It was just how he was; distant in the mind and body, but right beside others in soul. It didn't used to be like this, but ever since his other side came into existence, he knew he couldn't chance being around others for very long.


The last time he did, his best friend wound up in the hospital.
 
She sighed softly as he left. In truth, she still felt guilty that he had paid for the can. Especially since he didn't seem to remember doing so. She kind of awed at the fact that he didn't question that it was hers either.


For a moment, she followed him, but just as far as the corner. She watched him walk away, feeling a bit sad, but not wanting to intrude where she wasn't wanted either. So slowly, she sat down, bowing her head against her knees to fall asleep. Maybe she would see him again some day, she thought as she slowly dozed off.
 
About a week had past since Caden had departed from the ally, and today was the day he met up with his counselor to discuss the issues of his current situation. About a month prior, back when his split personality first manifested itself, an event occurred on campus that had resulted in four students being sent to the hospital. It wasn't pretty. Now that things had settled down for the most part, Caden was to meet with his counselor in order to see if he was in any state to come back to school.


If otherwise, he'd end up being home schooled for the rest of the year.


With his grandfather away at work, the teen took to the ole' 2-10, walking at a steady pace with one question in mind.


Would his other self appear during the worst time possible, or would he luck out and get the school board's approval to continue attending..?
 
The little homeless girl was browsing one of the conveniences stores and glancing at the bags of chips, the hot pockets, the packaged sandwiches, the bottles of water...


She was getting quite hungry and desperate. During the week she hadn't found enough coins to buy very much, and though this happened frequently, she had had about all she could take of being hungry. It wasn't fair that she, a decent human being, couldn't get enough food fill her stomach. She stopped near a bag of poptarts, idly fingering the package as tears brimmed her eyes. Forget these snacks....when was she ever going to get a cooked meal? She closed her eyes and dreamed about a warm rotisserie chicken. She had only tasted it once in her life, before her mother died. Her mother had always worked so hard to bring food to the table, and that was a night she was particularly proud. Sydnie recalled how they had all hovered over the juicy meat, picking pieces off of it and slowly chewing the succulent meat.


Her eyes popped open and she eyed the cashier. He was busy with another customer. With a small breath, she grabbed the bag of poptarts, reconsidered and grabbed two bags....and made a scrambling dash for it. She hadn't ever stolen before, but there wasn't much thought for the consequences. She heard a loud shout behind her as she dashed out the door and into the street, eyes wide and heart pounding.
 
Not much street smarts in this one, eh? Dashing through the exit only drew attention to oneself. It would have been a perfect getaway if she had casually strolled out the door.


But of course, this failed to be the case.


So deep in thought, he was, to the point he hadn't noticed a familiar form dart out of one of the convenience stores up ahead. He was contemplating on how exactly to explain his actions and how much to say. It wasn't an especially good feeling, being stared at by an adult like you've got some sort of mental problem while pouring your heart out to get back to your old daily routine. He had to remember she wasn't a therapist. She wasn't going to understand what he was going through very well. No... She may not even hold an ounce of empathy for him. Heck, she might even be biased enough to have already made her decision no matter what was said.


Not exactly the optimistic one, the boy.
 
Although Sydnie in truth only carried two bags of poptarts, she felt like she had stolen the crown jewels. She already felt stupid for it, and she could hear the man behind the register fumbling his way out from behind his counter. Normally, he wouldn't have cared and would have marked it as missing inventory and called the police with a description, but he had had a bad day. He was sick and tired of all the dishonest people that came through his doors, and he was going to make sure this one got put behind bars, even if only for a night or so. Maybe if he started putting his foot down, this would stop happening.


Sydnie was in a slight panic, not really looking where she was going, and as she kept glancing back to the store, she wasn't paying attention to what was in front of her. Smack! She collided right into Caden, and fell on her bum. Shocked, she glanced up with wide eyes as the store manager caught up to them.


"Hey! Hey stop her!" he yelled.
 
All of a sudden, in the midst of his train of thought, someone flew at him at great speed, the impact sending him to the concrete below his feet. "What the..?" Blinking a few times, he looked over to see the homeless girl from a week or so prior and some man taking long strides in their direction. Quickly assessing the situation, he knew she was up to no good — not that she probably had much of a choice in the matter. Removing himself from the ground, he stood between the two and, without even asking about the situation, outrightly offered, "whatever she took, I'll pay you with interest if you let her be."


Heroic? No... Although helpful, he was not courageous, nor was he desperate to reach a goal or possessing of an alternative motive of some sort like most who committed such deeds. He merely couldn't stand back and watch the world go about it's unjust ways. In a way, he was assisting himself within the act of doing so for her.


Protecting a mere concept, his actions, rather than the girl directly.
 
The man blundered closer before coming to a halt and peering around, leering at the girl angrily. "Oy, that's not going to change what she did!" He shook a fist in anger. "Step aside boy, unless you want to be an accomplice. I'm tired of all the thieving rats that plague innocent people." He stepped closer, clearly not intimidating and expecting Caden to step aside.


The homeless girl, on the other hand, was panting lightly, still on the ground with her back to Caden. She was stunned and sure the owner was going to grab her by the shoulders at any moment. She hunched her shoulders and squeezed her eyes shut when she heard the older boy's familiar voice and her eyes fluttered open. Pay? For her again?! That certainly wasn't happening! She quickly scrambled to her feet and turned around, hugging Caden about the knees with large frightened eyes.


"S-sorry!" she squeaked before tossing the broken poptarts past Caden's legs and at the owner's feet.


The owner looked down at the crumpled bag and glared with a threatening growl.
 
"Perhaps you didn't hear me correctly," he teen responded in a slightly condescending tone, standing his ground without hesitation. Removing his wallet from his front pocket, he produced an Ink Bold credit card, holding it out to the man. Such cards were acquired by business owners, and most intended to be exceptionally wealthy. "I am will to pay an interest of $300. Take it or leave it."


There was always a reason his grandfather was rarely home. The life of an entrepreneur was a risky one — practically like gambling. But if one played their cards correctly, one could rake in quite the pretty penny. Being his only grandson, Caden was given his monthly expenses to use as he wished. But the teen had yet to grow very comfortable with his large quantity of an allowance, and therefore rarely acted as though he possessed such numbers.


However, ever since he began switching places with his other personality, his experiences within his 'illusions' were beginning to rub off on his usual character.


"...." Although he wanted to say something to the one clinging to his legs, he decided it should wait until he was finished dealing with the cashier.
 
The shopkeeper's eyes lifted as the boy so boldly spoke, and when he made the generous offer, he gave pause. The boy was clearly nuts. Three hundred dollars? The disgruntled man found himself balancing the ideas of opportunity verses the ideas of justice. Finally, she scoffed and waved a dismissive hand. "I ain't want your money boy! I seggest you get on out of here, 'cause I'm callin' the cops. Don't think I ain't got a good look at 'er." He nodded gruffly, not having the willpower to get involved in a rumble with some young teen.


He turned without waiting for and answer and hurried back into the store, fingers itching to dial.
 
Nuts? Well, that was one way to look at his actions — especially from a much broader perspective. But the value of money was to each their own.


"Suit yourself..." Retracting his motions, Caden slipped the card back into his wallet, pondering what would become of the girl if authorities decided to take action. According on her situation, she would probably be rehabilitated to learn the right and wrong of society before placed into a child care facility or an orphanage. Didn't sound too bad, all and all. Least she'd be off the streets and taken care of. After all, those who were desperate to survive and clever enough tended to commit crimes simply for the sake of being put behind bars. Even if in jail, they were given food and a place to sleep, not to mention recreation.


Basically, only good would come out of contacting the authorities, no matter the intent.


Peering down at the other who had attached herself to his knees, he stated, "you can get up now."
 
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