The definition of a rich person is a person who is financially well off; the so-called emerging affluents. They go to expensive schools, caught up on the latest drama from their new flat screen. They have the latest trends, go to the movies, fashion shows. They even go on vacation. They go on golf outings. Buy diamond jewels for their wives and kids. They go on fancy boat rides. They go to drink wine. They go to parties. They go shopping. They update their house. They go to buy big houses. They go to broadway shows. They stay at hotels when they are going nowhere. They go to spas. They work a lot. They get their makeup done. That  was me about 4 years ago. 
It was 9-11 the day that changed my life. I got myself up every morning ate my Cheerios in a bowl with milk. I did the same thing. Same Routine… until the cheerios ran out. The bag was just crumbs. The milk was old and smelled. And finally, when my parents couldn't buy any more cheerios I ate nothing except scraps I found to eat because they were dead. Dead. They worked in the twin towers and got caught in the plane attack by the group Al-Qaeda terrorists. My parents did everything for me and I wish they were here with me supporting me as they would of but their dead. They died. The are not even here! Gone. Only up there. Dead.
Now it's me a homeless person the definition of a homeless person is the condition of people without a regular dwelling. Many homeless people live in new york city. It's about 70 percent of the population in new york city which is a lot. This affects many families because there are  14,476 families go without food and shelter every single night in new york city once again that's me. The only family I had was my parents and now I have none.  I lived behind a school for the second half of my life, same clothes and same routine and if I was lucky the water in the big sink outside by the sandbox would be warm to take my showers. I live on a hard bed with an uncomfortable but warming blanket and a pillow of leaves and more leaves. The fire escapes as my bed. Leafs and as my pillow, where I walked up the fire escape to the second ladder and watched the art class to see their weaving lesson. With the midrib and leaves. I don't get the luxury of much except that I’m still moving and kind of cleaned.
My name is Brooklyn. My parents couldn't decide on Brooke or Lyn they combined it and it was a sign. I then went to Brooklyn for a shelter home because I thought it was a sign. I hated it was one big circus show. The younger kid was def and only red lips so the whole family only read lips and the son talked by moving his mouth so I only heard him through lip reading. The older sister abused me. She ripped my hair and stole the picture of my mom and dad at the twin towers and put them out the window. Until I  stormed out to look for them. The wind was crazy and I couldn't find the pictures. I thought it was a sign to keep running. It was a sign to run to my parents give anything to be as close as I can to them.  I ran until I saw a dinner open till 11:30.
I came in and saw a black girl with curly hair asking to take my order, “Hello?”
I zoned out smelling the fresh baked goods, the sizzling bacon sound in my ear. Like the one dad used to make on Sunday mornings and the smell of pancakes during Sunday brunch, “I didn't know that I was talking out loud till I heard…
“Hello, do you need help? Are you okay?”  she said muttering not trying to disappoint or scare a 13-year-old away”
“Yes yes, I'm sorry… I was just smelling.”
“smelling?” she said confusingly, “I think you need a nice warm cup of noodle soup, I think yall like it”
I started to cry. I don't know what happened to me. Well, I do my parents are dead, my foster home family is mean and lost the only picture I had and every will have and I'm homeless, not even a single cent. She came around the counter and comforted me. When I told her my life story she couldn't help but fix me up a nice hot cup of noodle soup. She told me she was poor. She asked where my locations were around that I'm staying and so I told her. She told me where her parents were they were in jail. I felt bad for her but not as much as I do for myself can't even by a 25 cent newspaper yet alone where different clothes to work every day just like her, why can't I be normal. How can I be normal?
    She carried on walking through the dinner asking me.. telling me to meet her here at 12. I looked questionable at her while she pretended to not know who I was as the owner passed by. I realized that I would have to run back because I saw a police enter the diner. I ran through the exit sign. I am a smart girl. But not at this moment. I always did follow instructions at school. I always did follow my parents directions. I never didn't read something under an exit sign till now. Right now. The exit sign said alarm will sound when going out this exist. I pushed through it just before I heard the sirens. Sorry mom. I know you said not to run away from my problems. This was the day I disobeyed my mom. I felt like my mom was there screaming at me as she would put her arm around me telling me not to do that again. But, it wasn't her hand as I turned back. It was a big black man's face. It was the police. I sprinted in tears needing the smell of my mom's perfume right now this very moment. I inhaled. Nothing. I felt so sad. He asked me where my parents were, I started to cry and he told me to sit down.
    I walked over to the park bench right outside of the diner, I sighed and didn't want to look at him I turned my head and muttered, “I'm soor-”
Before I could finish he said, “don't worry”
I looked up as one tear went down my face, he handed me a tissue and said, “ I'm here to protect you. Not scare you. Can I ask you a question?”
“Yes,” I said as I wiped my tear, feeling comfortable again.
“Where do you go to school? Where did you come here for? Where are your parents? And are you okay, do you need help?
He answered right as that tear went down my face again, “I’m homeless, hate shelter and foster homes, and definitely could not try it again. My parents died in 9-11. I sit outside a school on a fire escape but I don't  actually afford to go to a school. “Yep, that's my fabulous life” as I said, got frustrated and crossed my arms.
He let me go and told me if I ever needed anything to come to lexington ave. walk 3 blocks turn to the left and you will see a police station. I said thx as I walked thoroughly speeding my pace in my walk up the escape.
    
                       *    *    *    *
The sun was shining through the leafs while the pillow was over my head. I turned to see parents, the classroom was filled with parents every single child stood in front of a parent.
Earlier that day, I stood in front of my parents, only it was a grave.
I focused back onto the classroom. My eyes teared up but I looked down staring at the graphite that quoted , “Shake it off” and I was my normal self again. But is that normal enough? My life is not normally normal.
The parents brought in their homemade treats. I looked into the classroom and saw a mom run towards the window, I quickly ducked but she had a familiar face, it was my mom she opened the window. And I reached to grab her arm but nobody was there. I was daydreaming.  

As the sink filled to the top, I was looking up at the stars.  I Estimate the position of the "pointer" stars of the Dipper to an accuracy of about a one-quarter hour. Then, count the number of months past January 1 to the nearest one-quarter month. Add the values of both of those. Then double the result. I learned this from walking up to the highest fire escape to science when they were learning about stars.I dried off with the rag in the back and put everything back where it was so it wouldn't look like I was there. I ran to the dinner put the alarm in 16479 and it quickly turned off. I sat in the seat I always do, the one you can not see from the outside window. While I hummed the tune of the star spangled banner, as the signal me and Trish would do to make her come. No one came. It was empty. Silent. I started to hum louder nothing happened. I lifted the napkin and it had a letter under it…

Hi.. Sorry for the last minute notice. I am writing to you because I am in Hawaii, Ik omg!! I have been here since 2:00 am and my new fiance is paying, not to rub anything in your face but I left food on the counter… See you soon bye
        Ps: I will be here for one and a half weeks!!
                 From Trish

“Grrrrr” My stomach gurgled. It was four mornings after Trish wasn't there and I was starving and got really skinny. I keep on getting sick and having dry throats and been drinking from the pot water that drips one by one. I haven't eaten in days. I’m hoping Trish comes back soon, well I hope because I might not last. I find myself talking to my parents at night before I go to bed, thinking when I never went to bed hungry… well, things change fast.

It was a saturday morning a sunny day while I was spinning around in the dinner chair. I saw a tall man with a suit on and a dark tan body come over to me. I got scared and screamed, “HELP”. But he held his hands up and went into the back. He pulled someone from the back in a dinner outfit, thank god it was someone I knew. Trish. Trish turned around with soup and a plate covering it. The man told me not to touch it but right when, Trish came around the counter, we hugged tight and smelled her scent. It was the perfume my mom had when I realized my mom had been to Hawaii I hugged her even tighter and said, “ you smelled nice.” She pulled out the bottle and she sat down next to me touching my warm feverish head as she handed it to me. Trish is always good at listening, I remember I told her a story about whenever I am said I try to remember of the scent of my mom's perfume, and she brought it for me. I thanked her 20 times. Every time I  come to the dinner, Trish draws or writes words on my food for fun. This time, my  soup Had little pasta spelling…

“W I          LL  Y O U         O U R
B E             A DO PTED       D A UG H
                                    TE  R”
  As I spin my alphabet soup while the words didn't read perfectly, I was amazed. My jaw dropped, as I imagined a whole new life. A new life. Brand new. Maybe a normal one I thought. But that would be me disobeying my parents and not proving I could live alone with what they taught me and gave me. I didn't want to live in a new place with new rules to learn from but how could I decide. But I knew my parents would be happy if I was happy.  I decided. To not talk. I picked up my spoon spun it all around found a Y-E-S, lifted it up from under put it on the top and showed them it. They came around the counter to hug me and said we will ask you a couple of questions.    
“What school do you want to go to?” Trish’s husband said.
I screamed, “Orange county northern schools.” This is where I live and where I have learned everything. “Please,” I muttered.
Trish said, “Of course. It is whatever you want.”

I stepped inside the huge house. Wow, I have never seen anything bigger. I thought I went to meet with the President. Their house... I mean my house is like the white house, as big as I ever imagined. I felt a little uncomfortable only because I was never been in a house like this without my parents and now I’m in a new home. I wonder how they feel. “I am sorry I whispered.” It was white modern and I smiled as I looked at my new home.

It was the third quarter into school as I got my first assignment. It was to write about your life including from  the start and ask your parents for help. Only I couldn't ask  my parents. I got back started with, “Is it a Normal Life? Did I Pass?" And continued with, "The definition of a rich person is a person who is financially well off; the so-called emerging affluents. They go to expensive schools…”