After Oliver Twist, QuailyCat [top 100 novels of all time .TXT] 📗

I sneaked into the small park full of wealthy looking people. I saw a boy whose pockets looked full of money. I creeped over to him, but right at that moment he turned around, and when he saw me looked quite surprised.
"Do I know you?" He asked curiously.
"Why would a 'street urchin' like meself know someone rich 'n' posh like you?" I snapped at him, remembering how just the day before how a rich man had called me that. I didn't mean it to come out sounding harsh, it just slipped out like that. I didn't recognise his long, light brown hair or his hazel eyes.
"I'm sorry if I offended you, it's just you look familliar." He apoligised.
"No, I'm

sorry. I just sometimes get aggresive at random times." I replied.
"Oh, don't worry. I've met worse people." He told me.
"What sort o' people?" I asked in my cockney accent.
"You don't want to know." He warned.
"Oh, I can handle it. I can." I reassured him.
"Well, I won't tell you just yet. Here, take a seat," He quickly grabbed a handkercheif out of his pocket and wiped off a bench. "So, what is your name?"
"What's yours?"
"Oliver. Oliver Twist."
My eyes then widened. Luckily, Oliver didn't notice.
"I'm Acorn." I told him shakily.
"Acorn? Is that your real name?" Oliver asked in bewilderment.
"No. I can't remember my real name, so my friends just call me Acorn, because my eyes and hair are sort of the colour of an acorn." I replied, still feeling uncomfortable at learning Oliver's name.
"Friends? What sort of Friends?" Oliver asked curiously.
"I just meet people like meself here and there on the streets." I replied. "Well, I'd better go now."
"Just yet? Why can't we maybe meet each other every now and then?" Oliver asked.
"Okay. Tomorrow, around midday?"
"I'll see you then." Oliver said.
"Okay. Spanish waiter!" I said, and began to walk away, trying to push away the thought troubling me.
"Spanish waiter?" Oliver echoed, puzzled.
"Don't you know any cockney rhyming slang?" I laughed.

I walked into a dark alley, and muttered:
"You'll never guess who I've just met."
A figure stepped out of the shadows.
"Who?" He asked.
"Oliver Twist." I replied.
"What

? Oliver Twist? Oh, I just want to put my hands around his throat and squeeze and squeeze!" The figure said.
"Listen, I know that you miss Fagin, and so do I, but maybe Oliver could come of a better use." I suggested.
"But if he had come with me that day, Fagin wouldn't have been executed!" They exclaimed.
"But maybe Oliver could come of a better use." I repeated.
"Like what?"
"I don't know, Dodger." I retorted.
"Wait!" Dodger exclaimed. "You could pick-pocket him. He's wealthy now, and about to inherit alot of money, and a huge house! We could earn a fortune!"
"Pick-pocket

him?" I hadn't meant that we shopuld pick-pocket him.
"Yes! It would go perfectly! You're the best pick-pocketer I know, even better than me! Are you going to see him soon?" Dodger asked.
"Tommorow." I replied.
"Then you begin tommorow. Come on, it's getting late. We'd better get back to the hideout." Dodger said.
"Okay, then." I followed him down the alley.

That night, I wrote in my diary. Dodger didn't know I had a diary. None of my friends did. None of them even knew I could read or write. Here's the entry:

Publication Date: 05-10-2012

All Rights Reserved

Dedication:
To my dog George, who was a bullterrier, just like Bulls-eye, and is now in a better place.