JEM AND SOPHIA: THE SLUMS

[Lenn]

Jem Turner was sitting on a doorstep, wishing that he had brought lunch. The sun sat lazily in the sky, warming his upturned face as he rubbed his hands, sore again from the morning's work. Jem, never one to forget to count his blessings, tried to ignore the thought of food and the fact that it was lunchtime. I'm lucky I got any sorta work at all, even if it paid a dime and scrubbed my fingers raw. This was true, of course; Jem had finally found someone who required the services of a grubby young man such as himself after two straight days of wandering about aimlessly. Well, it ain't my fault I'm dead beat, Jem thought crossly, running his wrapped hands through sand-colored hair. Picture Emmie, how happy she'll be to hear ya. Jem needed only think of his sister and his complaints faded back into the recesses of his mind. Resolve strengthened, he slowly rose to his feet, stretching his arms above his head as he stifled a yawn. "At least if I get movin' now I can get a head start on them food people, wash dishes or whatever," Jem mumbled to himself. He rolled up the sleeves on his thin shirt, exposing tanned forearms, and adjusted his scarf, which today was striped red and gray.

He ambled down the street, mindlessly brushing by various people. Planning to go by at least five of his usual haunts, which included but were not limited to bars, restaurants and clubs, Jem turned on one battered heel and disappeared into an alley. The crowd of hurrying passerby instantly dissipated into a few snarly-looking men as he walked. Jem smiled his best smile at them as he strolled by, hands in pockets, and stepped out once more onto a street parallel to the one he had just traveled down. Pulling his cap down in such a manner that it concealed his face, Jem began to trudge down the sidewalk.

[Admin Bot]

Sophitia Desmaraise was not a girl to skip out on her studies. To this very day, the girl had only missed twelve days of school. This was for her entire life, also including summer classes. Never once had dear Sophia wanted to skip. Not once. She would have been perfectly fine with keeping it that way too, for Sophia did enjoy learning to satisfy her constant thirsting to be the best. However, this particular round of summer classes made her want to ditch the entire program. How absurd! What could have caused Sophia to think of going to suck drastic measures? The fact that he assignment directed her to go into the slums and study the difference between social classes. (A human study for psychology, it was.)

Now now. Although Sophia would have rather turned in a fail for this assignment, she simply couldn’t. A blemish on her perfect record of straight A’s! The first born lady of the highly educated Desmaraise family getting a… zero!? Oh it just wasn’t heard of! She wouldn’t put herself to that kind of shame, nor would she put her family into it either! Even so, she couldn’t help but utterly loathe this particular project. Not only did she not feel comfortable in the wretched stealing areas of the slums, she didn’t particularly fancy not having knowledge of a place. Sophia liked to think of herself as a genius, therefore lacking information on a subject made her feel inferior. That aside, she had huffed, puffed, and groaned her way to the slums.

Fully concealed in her “worst” attire (which wasn’t bad at all), a simple long brown dress, Sophia decided to find the most hustling area of the slums. She kept her eyes downcast, trying to avoid the stares and glares from the people around her. With her prim and proper appearance, she certainly stood out amongst the crowd. Clearing her throat nervously, she carried on forward. Her destination was the market of sorts. A place where these… people (she refrained from thinking that they were scum, but really… they sure looked like it…) could sell their goods. She would be able to observe there for a couple of hours, right? It wouldn’t be hard…

Now if only she could find the blasted place! She asked herself if she wanted to stop and ask a civilian for directions, but again – her pride got in the way. She would also rather keep to herself than to socialize with the… lower-class. With a soft sigh to keep her nerves calm, she trucked on forward, praying that the market wouldn’t be too far. It seemed that she was paying so much attention to the “scenery” (more like gawking at it) that she didn’t notice a tattered young fellow appear in front of her. Thus, her distracted attention brought her to collide with him.

Instantly, she pulled away, backing up and immediately wiping her hands and dress clear of dust or whatever grime the man could have passed on to her after they had bumped.

Keep your composure, Sophia. You are certainly not like your sister.

“Sorry sir. Perhaps you should have stepped aside.” She rubbed her hands together for good measure in getting rid of the non-existent dirt on her hands. “Or perhaps I should have paid more attention.”

With a light and plastic smile, she hoped to be on her way. However, not that she had already come into contact with someone… she really should get directions.

[Lenn]

Jem glanced up, startled out of his ambling walk. He raised his wrapped hands in the universal defensive gesture and pushed his dirty blonde hair back before he grinned amiably, exposing teeth that appeared surprisingly white in contrast to his tanned skin. “Awh, don’t worry about it, sista’,” he said in his usual manner when talking to girls, a cross between cheerful and flirtatious.

He looked this young lady over. She had short dark hair and a delicate face, but it was pale and didn’t have the look of a laborer. Haughty blue eyes were framed by long lashes and stared back at him accusingly, as if it were his fault that she had hit into him. She wore a long brown dress that looked too well-made to have originated in the slums, and Jem noticed her rubbing her hands together as if to clean them of dust particles. “Hey, what’s with the suspicious cleaning? I’m not dirty,” he assured her, winking one hazel eye. Today Jem had found a job that didn’t involve rolling around in various filth; his clothes, albeit rather patched, were mostly untouched by dirt. “What’s a pretty thing like you doin’ in a place like this? I haven’t seen ya around, and trust me,” Jem smiled again, “I know most everyone in these parts.”

A touch of genuine concern flickered across his freckled face as he stepped closer. Jem was quite good at judging character and it seemed clear to him that there was some reason that this rich-looking girl was wandering around a particularly unpleasant area of the slums. Everything about her screamed that she didn’t know what life was like at the bottom, and Jem decided that it would be best that he helped her out to wherever she had to go. Sweet girl like her might get taken advantage of. Jem, though he was far from cultured, did have a sense of courtesy.

“So ya not from here,” Jem concluded. “Need help gettin’ anywhere? Usually I’d be out workin’ now, but I,” he announced seriously, “always have time to help young ladies out.” With one motion, Jem took off his newsboy cap and swept it down into a graceful bow that came very close to mocking the bow of a real gentleman. His eyes sparkled through a curtain of sandy locks, now freed from the confines of his hat. “I’m James, by the way,” he told her. “James Turner. But I go by Jem,” he added. “Now, where can I take you?” He offered his bare forearm to her.

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