Author's Note: This piece was written for the Newsies Pape Selling Competition Circulation Four. My task was Task: Write about a time when something or someone is either a large part of the main character's life, or a small part, and how the character copes with this abundance or scarcity. The prompt I used was the line: "I never wanted this to happen." The word count (minus Author's Note) is 1680.
Please be merciful while reading - this piece is not what I want it to be but my computer keeps giving me the blue screen of death so I'm trying to get it published before everything goes kablooey. So my apologies for what is written below - and thank you for reading :-)
Go to bed. Stop yelling in the house. Comb your hair. Chew with your mouth closed. Go to school. Don't stand there. Get up. Listen to your brother. Listen to your sister. Stop squirming. Settle down.
Les grimaced as he thought about the number of complaints and commands he heard from his family on a daily basis. The problem, in his opinion, was that he had too much family. He wasn't thinking about his mother or father or Sarah or David. But the whole lot of them, the Manhattan newsies included. Always someone telling him where to go, what to do, how to behave. He was done with all that.
However, Les began to second-guess himself when he saw the surly looks on the faces of three Brooklyn newsies as he surveyed the scene in front of him. He straightened his shoulders and tried to make himself look as big and as mean as possible.
"Well what do we have here, fellas?" one commented as he elbowed the boy next to him.
"Looks like somethin' I scraped off my shoe this morning."
Les felt his cheeks redden. "I want to see Spot Conlon."
Two of the newsies let out loud guffaws. The third pushed his hat back on his head and peered curiously at Les.
"'Scuse me, highness. Wasn't aware you was needin' to see Spot Conlon," the boy remarked sarcastically.
Les noticed that the newsies had slowly surrounded him so that now he was stuck in the middle of the group with no visible escape route.
"Hear this, fellas? Shrimp says he wants to see Spot."
"Wonder if he'll be able to see 'im through two black eyes."
"Toss him in the drink, see if this street rat can swim."
Les clenched his fists tightly and prepared to get at least one good swing in before he ended up bleeding in the dirt. Just as he decided the kid with rusty colored hair would be the easiest target Les heard two short whistles. Each newsie picked up his papers and left Les standing there alone as a familiar figure approached.
"Mouth busted or somethin'?" Spot asked after what felt like an eternity of silence as Les stared open-mouthed at the older boy.
"N-no," Les stammered. He clutched his small bag of belongings he'd thrown together before leaving. "I just, um, need a place to stay."
Spot just stood silently while Les shuffled nervously from one foot to the other. He was beginning to break out in a sweat and wiped his hand over his face, noting with some satisfaction its grubby condition. His mother would have had him in the wash tub in a heartbeat if she had seen him.
"Suit yourself," Spot finally told him before he turned and walked back toward the waterfront with Les on his heels.
"That's it?" Les asked as he tried to keep up with Spot.
"That's it," Spot tossed back over his shoulder.
Les was in shock. Maybe he had become too used to Jack's way of doing things. Rather than stand there and think about Les realized he'd have to get a move on or be left behind and lost in the crowd.
"Wait," Les called out. Spot didn't even pause. Les scrambled over ropes and crates and broken down bits of machinery. "Where do I sleep? What do I eat? Where do we get papes from?"
"Look, kid, I'm guessin' you've had enough of people tellin' you what to do and when. You're in Brooklyn now. Do what you want for once."
Les spent his first few hours in Brooklyn just wandering through the streets and exploring the waterfront. He looked on with envy at the group of boys swimming in the river below. Les pictured Sarah turning up her nose at the clothing, or lack thereof, that the boys were wearing. David would have warned him against whatever diseases were floating around in the water. Jack probably would have encouraged him to jump right in, fully clothed and everything. 'Do what you want', Les thought back on Spot's advice.
Unfortunately, no one had told Les that anything left out in the open in Brooklyn was considered fair game. So when Les finally tired of wading in the river he found himself standing on the pier in nothing but his underwear and a dazed look on his face as he realized his clothing was gone. And there was no sign of his other belongings.
"That's rough," Spot said simply when Les explained the situation. If Les didn't know better he would have sworn Spot was secretly laughing at him but he'd never even seen the Brooklyn leader crack a smile, let alone laugh.
"Well, what am I supposed to do now?" Les asked, flustered.
"Figure it out, you're a smart kid," Spot told him and turned back to the conversation he was having with one of the girl newsies. If Les expected any sympathy from the female contingent he appeared to be out of luck as the girls ignored him all together. These girls were clearly not susceptible to the cute factor that Les had come to depend on.
Les tried to barter but it was impossible to gain anything when he had nothing to give. He had no money so buying his clothes back wasn't an option. The only option left was stealing and Les felt a pit open in his stomach as he thought about the consequences of getting caught stealing from one of the Brooklyn newsies.
Les followed one of the younger newsies into a broken down building and noticed a makeshift clothesline where someone had hung a few shirts and pants out to dry. His throat grew tight as he waited for the kid to leave and then Les grabbed an outfit without worrying about size or color. He tried pulling the pants on as he ran and ended up face first in the dirt as he stumbled. He tugged the pants up around his waist and looked up to see Spot looking down at him. As Les stood the shirtsleeves fell way past the ends of his arms and he had to hold the pants up with one hand.
"You eat yet?" Spot asked.
"I'm fine," Les answered stubbornly.
"Didn't ask if you was fine," Spot said. "I asked if you ate yet."
"No," Les told him. He scowled at the ground. "They took my money, too."
"I know," Spot replied. "Guess you'll just owe me one."
Les tripped along behind Spot and tried to keep an eye out for horse droppings and any other disgusting substance considering he was barefoot. Spot stopped at a pretzel cart just outside the entrance to the bridge and bought one for himself and one for Les.
"I ain't going home," Les said adamantly as he followed Spot up to the walkway.
"Who said you was?" Spot asked.
Les stared down at his pretzel as though it was the most interesting thing in the world. He knew he was avoiding the obvious. Brooklyn was not for him. It was nothing like what he thought it would be. But he was hesitant to admit defeat after barely spending half a day there.
"I'm just so tired of them. All of them. Always tellin' me what to do and where to go. And Jack ain't no better 'cause he just lets Dave push me around and he acts like I'm just a kid or something."
The words erupted from Les before he even knew what was happening. He stood there stunned while Spot quietly waited for him to continue.
"I mean they just use me all the time. They know 'cause I'm younger that I'll be able to sell more papers but then they act like I can't keep the money I make. My whole family thinks we gotta put all our money together and I can't even buy candy or anything like Boots and Snipeshooter. They don't have to go to bed on time and wash their face and do schoolwork. I can't stand it!"
Les realized that as he had ranted he'd twisted his pretzel into crumbs. Spot looked at him and then at the pretzel crumbs on the ground.
"That was a waste of money," he said dryly.
"I never wanted this to happen," Les told him as he gestured to the oversized clothing. "I thought I'd come here and I'd be able to shoot marbles and go swimming and…I don't know."
"Must be rough havin' all those people takin' care of you all the time. Lookin' out for you and makin' sure you got food and clothes and a place to sleep," Spot said casually.
Les opened his mouth to argue that he expected Spot to provide those things but closed it again for fear of insulting him. It was like Spot could read his mind though as he continued.
"I ain't their family, kid, and we ain't brothers like Jack's boys. Nobody is gonna look out for you around here 'cause every newsie is only worried about himself."
"You're the leader," Les refuted. "Aren't you supposed to look out for them?"
"Long as they follow the rules, I let 'em stick around. But once they break a rule, they's out. Period."
"Dave must be scared outta his wits," Les said with a nervous laugh. "Guess I better head back soon."
Spot gestured up ahead and Les noticed two familiar figures approaching. Jack and Spot performed the customary spit-shake as David just shook his head at Les.
"You told them?" Les asked as he turned on Spot.
"Rules is rules, kid. Me and Kelly have an understanding," Spot explained. He pulled Les to one side. "Cut 'em a break. They're just trying to protect you. You're a tough kid and I happen to like you so if you ever need a break, come see me."
Les considered what Spot had said for a long moment. Maybe Brooklyn wasn't for him. Not for the long-term anyway. But it would be nice to have an ace up his sleeve.