A.N. Gotta do it. And you love it by now. I DON'T OWN NEWSIES!
For tha Time Bein'
It's prolly almost noon. Man, I could sleep late everyday. Not havin' ta get up at tha crack a dawn and sell pape's is kinda nice. And I gotta tell ya, I don't miss ol' Klopp's shoutin'. Dis strike shit might be worth it after all.
The bunk room is completely deserted 'cept for me. I wonder where tha others are. There's loud footsteps on tha stairs. Dat's gotta be Kid. No one else eva has tha energy ta fly up dose things t'ree at a time like he does. I watch him round tha corner a tha bunk room door. He looks at me like I'm crazy cause I'm still lyin' in bed. But like I said, I could do dis everyday.
"What'cha doin' still in bed? Goddamn, Mush, youse gonna sleep all day? Ya bum."
He smacks me across tha face, but I grin at him. He's always doing dat, but it don't hurt.
"What'chu doin' up so early? Sellin pape's? Ya scab." I retort and he grins his huge sloppy grin at me.
"Well, get ya ass up. Everyone's at Tibby's and Denton says he's got big news."
Here's a good reason ta get outta bed at last. Not tha news part, but tha Tibby's part. Whenever all tha newsies meet Denton dere he pays for lunch. He does it once or twice a week, ya know. He seems like a real good guy, but honestly, he's prolly just makin' sure his story don't die a starvation. We'll see. And either way, I'm grateful. My stomach is rumblin'.
Dat's one thing about dis strike shit I don't like. I'm hungry all tha time now. Don't really have tha spare coin ta eat everyday, ya know? But it's prolly only for tha time bein'. Sooner or lata, either tha big-shots'll win or we'll win and it'll be back ta sellin' pape's like usual.
I know Blink's hungry too. He's going on an on 'bout a roast beef sammich. Like it's tha biggest news of tha century or somethin'. I grin at him as I throw on my pants and hoist tha suspenders over my shoulders. Now I think about it, dese used ta fit at some point. If I didn't have tha suspenders they'd be down around my ankles. Only for tha time bein', I gots ta remind myself.
"What I really want is a coca-cola." Kid says now. "It's all cold and sweet and fizzy. But sometimes dose bubbles go right up ya nose, ya know? Makes ya face feel funny. But I figured it out."
He leans towards me and puts an arm around my shoulders as if he's gonna tell me some huge secret.
"Youse blow on it, right? Like it was hot. Ya still taste tha bubbles but dey don't go up ya nose."
I shake my head at him as we leave tha bunk room. I can only imagine how stupid he's gonna look blowing on a cold glass a cola. His giant sloppy grin is back and for some reason I just wanna smack him. It makes his face look like it's gonna split apart. Thing is, I know why it's dere. Life has been rough on Kid. I mean, we're all out hea on tha streets everyday, Barely scraping enough pennies ta eat. At least I still got both me eyes though.
It ain't a scam. I know dat much. One morning we was sellin' together and he reached out ta take a penny from a guy but swiped for it 'bout four inches too short. Guess his depth perception is shitty wit' one eye. Anyways, I made fun of him all mornin' until he finally snapped. He turned right around, punched me in the shoulder and reached up ta snatch his hat and his patch off his head. It was tha only time I think I've eva seen Kid frown and tha only time his punch eva hoirt.
His left eye is tha cloudy color of milk. Youse can still see a little blue in dere, but mostly it's jus' white. Like someone pulled a lace curtain across it. Dere's also dis long scar. Runs right down tha middle a his eye from his eyebrow ta his cheek and his top eyelid sorta slides down on tha outside like it's too heavy for him ta keep open. I never asked him how it happened and he never tol' me. And a couple hours lata his big sloppy grin was back, plastered across his face, and he was back ta playfully punchin' me on tha shoulder and callin' me names.
Thats just how he is, ya know? Big grin, overly-excited, always fulla energy. He's up on tha table now, announcing ta tha whole room dat his greatest ambition in life is a date wit' tha major's daughter. Yea, dat's Kid for youse. Thing is, ya get him drunk, he's more like me. Kinda quiet, not so big a grin. Grateful to be alive, sure, but just a little bit bitter about how everything's turned out. Guess, that's why were friends. Cause he knows dat I know it's all an act. He slaps dat huge goofy smile on and pretends like he loves life and gots enough energy for ten guys. But don't tell him I toldja alright? He'd soak me.
David an Jack are planning something. I couldn't really tell youse what. Long as it involves soakin' a few scabs, or something like dat, I wont complain. I ain't really payin' attention cause Kid just backhanded me across tha back a my head. He's starin' at a waiter dat just set a bunch a glasses a soda on tha table and I look up at Kid. His one eye jus' lit up at tha sight a it. Racetrack grabs two glasses off tha tray and hands one back over his shoulder. Kid, good friend he dat he is, passes one ta me and reaches for another. Racetrack is listenin' ta Jack though and Blink don't get another glass.
I can see tha disappointment in his eye. Jus' another thing dat life's snubbed him on and I know he was really looking forward ta it. I hadn't really been listening ta him, but he wouldn't shut up 'bout it all the way here. I elbow him in tha ribs and offer him mine. I know he won't take it from me, but we can share it.
His sloppy grin is back. It's good ta see it. Even if it is only for tha time bein'.