Well, this is it. And it's a good thing, too, because school is starting tomorrow, I still haven't finished my summer reading (can you believe that? I'm such a slacker) and I can not can not CAN NOT stay up this late anymore. Really. I'm not going to.
I surprised myself by finding that my best wasn't all that bad. I hung in there with a vengeance, through a will that left me everything and, thereby, nothing – the farm had gone steadily downhill after Dad died, I knew that – through the double-edged condolence visits of gossiping neighbors and the subtle sneers at my slight New York accent and demeanor. And, when I returned to New York the next Sunday, I was surprised to find that it felt like coming home. I didn't go to church that day because I missed all of the early services while on the train, and I had never liked evening services. However, I was determined to go every Sunday after this, as a testament to my mother.
I walked to the smithy, hoping that my friends would be there, and yet dreading the moment when I would have to face them. I hated the awkwardness that always followed grief. So, it was with mixed feelings of relief and disappointment that I opened the door to our room to find it empty. I set my bag down on top of my bed, kicked off my shoes, and leaned back. As I laid my head down, I heard a loud crinkling. I sat up quickly to grab the note that had been put on my pillow.
"Good to have you back. Down at Tibby's for lunch if you want to come."
I thought about it for a moment, wondering whether the initial discomfort with the boys would be worth them taking my mind off of my mother's death. I shrugged, realizing that I had to see them sometime, and pulled my shoes back on.
The bell tinged loudly as I walked into Tibby's, but the sound went unnoticed in the general noise of the newsies and their friends. And, I was shocked to realized as I looked around, their girls. I had never really seen girls mingling with the newsies – I figured that the boys all took their girls out on dates, as I had, rather than bringing them to meet all the boys.
I spotted Snitch and Chance at a table, so I began to make my way over. It was harder than I had anticipated, though, as I was stopped at every turn by yet another friend slapping me on the back and greeting me jovially. Perhaps a bit too jovially, I thought. I shook my head. I was being paranoid. Letting it get to me. I had to be strong. I couldn't think about it, couldn't let it affect me.
I reached around Snitch's back and tapped him on the opposite shoulder from where I was standing. He glanced behind him, then, confused, spun all the way around before he saw me. (A/N: I love doing that to people. Love it.) "Hey!" he said, surprised. Then, apologetically, "we didn't know when you was getting' back, or we woulda been dere."
"That's alright," I replied. "We would have just ended up here anyway." I looked around. "Where's Skitts?"
Snitch shrugged, "He's around somewheres. Probably teasin' Mush." He rolled his eyes, "You know how Mush believes evert'ing, well, Skitts jus' loves tellin' 'im all kinda lies."
I laughed. It felt good, after being forced into seriousness by constantly serious company. Then Chance cleared her throat. Still grinning, I said, "Sorry. Hey, Chance."
"I was wonderin' when you was gonna notice me," she said, trying to sound angry but failing miserably. She smiled, then turned serious, "So...how are you?"
I shrugged uncomfortably, remembering my decision. Be strong. Don't let it affect you. "I'm fine."
"You'se sure?" she pressed me.
I nodded, "Yea." I changed the subject quickly. "So, how's Maria been?" I pulled up a chair as I asked.
"Fine," Chance answered. "She's really excited dat yer back. You goin' over dere tonight?"
Before I could answer, Snitch said, "Dey should go wit' us to da vaudeville tonight." He turned to me. "We'se all takin' our goils to Medda's tonight." He nodded toward Jack, "Cowboy over dere knows da owner. Da Meadowlark 'erself," he grinned. "An', since dere ain't a lot o' business on Sundays, she's lettin' us 'ave da joint fer da night."
Chance looked excited. "Oooh, you should! I'll go tell 'er right now if you want, den we can get ready."
"Are you sure?" I asked. "I could go over there."
"I don't t'ink dat's such a good idea," she said nervously. "'Er dad don't like it when she's off da job, like. Especially wit' boys."
"Really? He seemed perfectly fine with it when I went."
"Well, maybe 'e likes you. Or maybe it was a one-time t'ing. All I know is, 'e gets kinda mad when Maria gets interrupted."
"Well, what about you?" I asked. "Won't he be angry with you?"
She grinned, "Nah. Ever since I been on da streets, I'se visited Maria all da time. 'E's used to me." She stood, "I'se goin' now, aight." She stooped to kiss Snitch on the cheek, but he stood up to wrap his arms around her and kiss her soundly. I stared in shock. I couldn't imagine kissing Maria – or any girl, for that matter – in such a public fashion. In North Carolina, public displays of affection are frowned upon. As in, considered terribly indecent. Still, I couldn't help but grin and join in as our table erupted in hoots and catcalls.
Chance finally pulled away, smiling and blushing furiously, muttering, "I'll see you'se tonight?"
"Eight o' clock," Snitch responded as she rushed out the door.
That night, we all headed out to Medda's to see her show and dance the night away. At home, Snitch, Skittery, and I talked late into the night, Snitch and I having walked our respective girls home, laughing about Skittery's escapades with some girl from Queens who he'd met that night.
And, soon, my life fell back into its previous pattern. My days were spent in hard work at the forge, although the work was getting easier as my muscles developed. My nights were spent either with the newsies or Maria, sometimes both. Skittery still went through the occasional bad mood, but they rarely lasted more than a day, and Snitch and I had learned to notice the warning signs. Tanner still gave one or the other of us a good pop occasionally for getting distracted, but we never could seem to learn our lesson. The bruises were almost worth the pain, anyway, with Maria's gentle mothering and care. The first Sunday after my return to New York, I skipped church to help some of the newsies sell papers, reasoning that that was a religious act, and I could go to church next week. And, slowly, it became easier to make those excuses. A month drifted by with little change. I was comfortable and well-fed, with friends, a great girl, and the promise of a roof over my head. I should have known it was too good to last.
"'Ey, Skitts," Snitch yelled over the sound of our hammers one Monday at the forge, "tell me 'bout dat goil you was wit' last night." Skittery was notorious for finding some girl or another nearly every time we all took our girls out together. He swore that it was just because he got bored while we were all entertaining our girls, that all he did was dance and talk and laugh until it was time to go, but we liked to treat them as conquests anyway, so we teased him mercilessly.
Skittery looked up in surprise, "What?"
"Yea, I'd pretend I didn't remember, too. She definitely wasn't one o' yer best," Snitch chuckled.
I laughed, "Not dat 'is best are all that great." I had semi-adopted a New York accent, but was still trying to fight it. As a result, I often started my sentences sounded like a New York native, but corrected myself quickly, ending in my old Southern accent.
Skittery mock-glared at the two of us. "Are you sayin' dat I can't get a pretty goil?"
"I believe that's exactly what we're saying," I answered. Then I raised my eyebrows at Snitch. "Maybe that's why. He ain't – isn't – too smart either."
Skittery looked like he was trying to think of a good comeback. "Whatsamatter?" Snitch taunted, "Cat got yer tongue?"
Finally, Skittery jumped up, "Well, he ain't got my fists!"
And that was that. Once again, we were rolling on the floor, wrestling, punching, yelling, and just generally having a grand old time. At this inopportune moment, Tanner walked in. Skittery saw him first and froze, drawing our attention to the door. He stalked in and stared down at us where we lay, panting and frightened. We were used to his punishments, but that didn't mean we dreaded them any less. This time, though, he didn't move to strike us. He just stared until we had all righted ourselves.
Finally, he spoke. "That is it. Final. No more. You three are not good, hard-working boys that I am looking for. I have many boys who look for work here. They would be thanking me always for giving them work and food by working hard. But not you. So, you not work for me no more."
He glared around at us, but I think that we were all so astonished at this demonstration of Tanner's ability to string multiple sentences together that his words themselves failed to register.
"I said, get out!" he grunted loudly.
We all jumped. "You – um, you don't want us to finish today?" I asked timidly.
"Go! Now!" Tanner moved threateningly toward us, but before he could give us another blow for old time's sake, we were up the stairs.
"I can't believe we jus' got fired," Skittery said, half-laughing, half-serious. "I mean, it's not like I liked woikin' 'ere or anyt'ing, but it was a good job, an' it paid good an' stuff."
"What are we gonna do now?" Snitch asked, not really expecting an answer.
"I dunno – don't know," I replied, "but I'm sure we can find something."
Skittery turned to me sarcastically. Uh-oh, sarcasm. I can see a bad mood coming on. "An' whatta you know 'bout da streets? You went straight from a sweet little farm wit' a nice family an' a picket fence, probably, to a cushy job dat offers room'n'board, plus good pay. We ain't gonna find anudda job like dis."
"He's right," Snitch said, looking as though he hated to admit it. "Dere ain't any odder jobs out dere like dis. Not dat we'se gonna get, anyway."
By this time we had finished packing. I stood up. "Well," I said sarcastically, "let's get outta 'ere so that we can start looking for those jobs that we're not going to get."
Snitch and Skittery didn't reply, just picked up their bags and shuffled out the door. Fuming, I waited until they were gone, then slung my bag over my shoulder with more force than strictly necessary and stormed down the stairs.
Tanner was waiting with a week's pay. "Here," he grunted. Then he put his hand on the shoulder of a boy standing in front of him. "He is going to take over now," he said smugly.
The boy gave us an appraising look that held some sympathy, but it was obvious that he was ecstatic over the good fortune that resulted from our bad luck. I couldn't blame him, really. He didn't know us, so he couldn't care about us. He had to take what he could get.
Once on the street, our feet automatically led us toward Tibby's. Halfway there, we realized what we were doing, but, as it was lunchtime anyway, we continued forward. When we got to Tibby's the newsies that were there looked up in surprise. "What are you doin' 'ere?" Jack asked.
Skittery stepped forward. "Dese morons got us fired."
My jaw dropped, "'These morons'?" I repeated incredulously. "How is dis our fault?"
"Well," Skittery said, with the patronizing air of one explaining something quite obvious to a small child, "you jus' couldn't stop startin' dose fights."
"If I remember correctly," I said coldly, "you were the one who threw the first punch. And I don't seem to recall you trying to stop the fight, either."
Skittery stepped forward, flushing, "Don't you be usin' none o' dose gen'l'man airs wit' me," he said indignantly, "I –"
Jack stepped between us, "Alright, alright, dat's enough." He shoved us lightly, then turned to Snitch. "Since you seem to be pretty calm 'bout all dis, I'se gonna ask you. From what I'se hearin', you t'ree got yerselves fired. Right?" Snitch nodded. "So, where you gonna go?"
"I dunno," Snitch groaned, "I heard dere's jobs as dockhands down at da docks, but I don't—"
Jack rolled his eyes. "Jesus, do I gotta spell everyt'ing out fer you? Dere's an easier option 'ere." He stared at us expectantly, and, when none of us answered, he groaned. "Be a newsie! Wit' us. You already know how, pretty much, from helpin' us out on Sundays and all."
The three of us looked around at each other in amazement. "Actually," Skittery admitted, "dat's a good idea."
Snitch started to laugh, "I can't believe none o' us thought o' dat."
So, we became newsies. That night, after checking into the Lodging House, I went to visit Maria. Her Dad had become more accustomed to me over the last month, allowing me to come in without trying to appear too threatening. As Maria and I followed our customary route around Central Park, I told her about the day's events. "So," I finished, "we're all going to become newsies."
"I'm glad," she said simply.
I stopped and stared at her in astonishment. "You're glad I got fired?"
"Well, no, I'm not happy about that, but I didn't like you working for that man. He hit you!"
I shook my head at her, spouting back the opinions of Snitch and Skittery, "Yea, but that happens, you know? And it was a good job. The pay was good, and I had a place to sleep every night. Now it's going to be touch-and-go."
"I still think that he shouldn't have hit you," she said adamantly. And she looked so sweet as she stood there defending me that I couldn't help but stoop down and kiss her quickly.
She colored slightly, as she always did when I kissed her in public places – the newsies antics had quickly erased my distaste for that, although I still didn't like to kiss her when I was with other people – and smiled at me. One of those bright smiles of hers that made me feel like the king of the world. Or at least of New York. And, since she just made me so happy that I could bust, I pulled her gently off of the path and kissed her again.
I leaned my forehead against hers and whispered, "Because I love you," in response to her query as to the reason for my kisses.
She put her hand to my cheek and smiled as she answered, "I love you, too."
I broke into an uncontrollable grin as I took her hand and we continued walking. After a while, I asked her, "Whadda you t'ink of goin' to da vaudeville wit' Race an' 'is goil tomorrow?"
She wrinkled her nose, then started to laugh. "Well, if you don't wanna..." I said in surprise.
"No, it's not that, it's just...you sounded so New York just now." She burst into fresh peals of laughter at the comical expression on my face.
I groaned in exasperation. "I can't get rid of it. It just keeps jumping up on me."
"Well," she said, in a bad imitation of my new accent, "I guess yer really a newsie now."
And, as we laughed, I thought of how sweet those words sounded, as my girl said them. I guess I'm not doing too bad for myself after all.
Smartass: Well, Nancy, it's nice to meet you. OK, bad joke. Anyway, I saw that you wrote Daft and Crusoe into your story. And Somtetimes! Haha I love that name so much!
Kahdalea is...well, I could just go one forever. But it's kind of the stereotypical summer camp, I guess. No particular theme or anything, just up in the mountains. Mountain biking, hiking, canoeing, horseback riding, rock climbing, archery, the list goes on and on. And we just play so much, and we all get so close. I just love it to pieces!
Koodles: (sigh) my last chapter. And I was so attached to these darling characters of mine. I can never spell that word. I always write attatched. And I liked the happy ending. Maybe I'll write a sad one later, but for now, I'm all about happy.
Myrna: Yay! Someone else is begging so I don't feel so pathetic! Well, this is it. It ends kind of suddenly, I guess, but I really need to stop it so I can start school with at least 5 hours of sleep. Wait, that doesn't happen even when I'm not on the computer all night!