From Here

The floorboards creaked and his footsteps echoed around the room as he headed to his bunk, having sold his last copy of the evening edition ten minutes ago. He was glad to have sold his papers so quickly, and it was sure to say something about the kind of seller he was. Still, he wished he weren't alone.

He heaved a heavy sigh as he pulled off his boots and climbed up into his bunk. "Happy birthday," he thought to himself, miserably. He lay on his stomach, arms crossed over the brass bedframe, his chin resting on his overlapped wrists. He liked being up here, seeing everyone as they filtered in, one by one. He liked that he could see Blink as soon as he walked in the door, and that Blink could see him just as soon. "Why so glum?" Blink asked as he neared the bedstead, stopping at the end, not quite tall enough to be on eye-level with his friend. "Ya look like Skittery. I ain't ever seen you this way. It ain't another girl, is it?"

"Nah," his friend replied while the other boy changed for bed. "It's just, aw, I don't know."

"Yes, you do," Blink said, his head reappearing momentarily. "Otherwise," he called from under the bunk, "You never would've started telling me in the first place. Come on, we been friends for too long for you to be able to hide something from me. So talk." He laid back onto the bed, settling in for the nightly conversation the two had before the lamp was turned down.

"Well," the boy began, "Today was my birthday. I'm eighteen now."

"I know. We went to Tibby's for lunch. In fact, I bought you your lunch as your present. Aren't I the best?" Blink asked with a chuckle.

His friend swung down from his position on the top bunk. "Cut it out, will ya? I'm serious."

Blink half-heartedly swatted him away, a bit confused. "Alright, alright. Gee, but you're touchy tonight." He sighed and settled back into his position. "Go ahead."

The boy turned over onto his back and out his hands behind his head, staring through the ceiling rather than at it, beginning again. "I turned eighteen today, and I got to thinking. What am I gonna do when I can't be a newsie no more?"

"Anything you want," came Blink's answer from below. "Why were you even thinking about it?"

"Because it's going to happen," the other boy insisted. "In three years, we gotta be out of here, doing real work. You ever think of that? And what are we gonna do? I'm a newsie 'cause I ain't dumb enough to work in a factory, but I sure ain't smart enough to work anywhere else, either. And what about us?" he asked. "We'll get different jobs in different parts of the city and that'll be that. We won't ever see each other again."

Blink took a moment to let these words sink in. As a matter of fact, he hadn't thought about it. Not once. And he was three months older than his friend, who happened to have a very good point. He couldn't really imagine a life without his best friend any more than he could imagine a life doing something else besides selling papers. The two were inseparable. At the end of every day, they would sit like this as his friend told him about the day's heartbreak. The more subdued of the two, he preferred to listen to his friend's escapades rather than get involved in his own. Blink rarely had anything to offer, but was always glad to have company. Now, as reality came crashing down, he found that life without the other boy in it was unthinkable. "Gee, Mush, I guess I never thought about it," he finally replied.

"Yeah, well maybe it's about time you started," Mush replied. "Goodnight," he said, as the lamp was turned down.

" 'Night," Blink muttered from below.