"Vó...vó...vózinha...cadê a senhora? Eu preciso da senhora vó, venha, a
gente precisa abrir o restaurante..."
Someone was lurking around in the darkness muttering words in a foreign language.
This being New York of the 1900s, neither feature was very surprising. People were constantly wandering about, and strange tongues were no longer strange because of the assortment that was heard daily; nothing was very odd in NYC.
That's why nobody really payed attention to her. So the girl stumbled on, her hair hanging in her face, her right hand clenched over the left, protecting something that couldn't be seen. She was ragged and out of energy, her body was drained of any nourishment, but somehow she managed to roam around. What in her trance-like state seemed to her like eternity, turned out to be in reality, four days. She walked on during the days and and parts of the nights, only sleeping a few hours wherever she could. She would not stop mumbling... at one point, her body could no longer sustain the search her mind demanded, and she simply collapsed in an alley. There, among old crates and stray pieces of clothing, she lay for another day. Her right hand remained covering her left.
It was getting dark and Serce was tired. Her day had been simply too tiring; up at the crack of dawn, she had spent the day working and now, because of a fight that no longer made any sense, she had no place to sleep. While walking, she ran into an old acquaintance with whom she chatted for a few minutes and had a smoke. They talked about the day's headlines (the factual and the made-up ones), selling spots, and profits. With the last puff of her cigarette Serce walked away waving.
Her current "homeless" status didn't bother her that much; she had been in this position so many times for the past five years that she had become accostumed to it. No lodging house or room to crash in? There's always the park, there's always a bench somewhere, a doorstep, or not sleeping at all. She'd probably fix everything soon, so why get miffed? She walked into an alley and looked around her, considering the surroundings and pondering if she could spend the night there.
Undecided, she started poking around a bit to find a mildly comfortable place to sit. Suddenly something crashed behind her. She turned around sharply, her hand instinctively going to the pocket knife stuck in her belt. She saw a couple of turned-over crates and something moving behind them. Then came the moaning: "vovó? Vó? Aonde eu estou?..." It sounded like a girl. A very tired girl.
Serce stepped over a few of the crates and peered cautiously over a trash bin; her hand never left the pocket knife. On these streets, especially at night, you could never be too careful. What she saw, though, made her hands drop to her sides.
Sitting amongst old, torn linen and pieces of wood from broken crates was a frail little person, with glazed eyes gazing at her through a mat of thick, dark hair. The girl looked exhausted, hungry, and completely unaware of anything around her. She kept on repeating: "vó, vó, vó..." Serce realized the girl hadn't even noticed she was there.
She cleared her throat to try to make herself noticed without scaring the girl; but she didn't even respond. Serce now crouched down in front of her and gently pushed away some of the loose strands of hair framing her face. The girl seemed startled, but not afraid. She hadn't removed her right hand from over her left, Serce noticed. She thought she might be hurt and tried to pry the girl's delicate but dirty fingers loose. The girl instantly straightened up and managed to push Serce away with one of her feet. "Não toca! É meu! É meu! É da vovó!!!" she yelled. Serce had lost her balance and was now sprawled on her back. "Wow, calm down! I'se trying ta help you!". She then realized the girl might not speak English. But to Serce's surprise, the girl answered in a clear voice: "I don't need help, I just need my grandmother!" and suddenly she started sobbing. All the sorrow and anger that had been inside her for days now poured out in rivers of tears and random babblings Serce couldn't really make out.
Her heart went out to the poor girl. Serce was oversensitive and she had become used to seeing kids on the street; kids who had been kicked out or ran away from home, ran away from beatings and drunken relatives or boyfriends, kids who were being chased down by the police... she had seen it all. Walking these streets every day to sell papes had made her very familiar with the hardships of city life. She had a turbulent past herself, having been chased away from home by her father and brother who were trying to... well, she didn't even like remembering. She had also spent many days in alleys, crying her eyes out, until she ended up becoming a newsie. So right now, seeing this girl in front of her, she almost saw herself.
Serce just sat there and sympathetically patted the girl's shoulder as she sobbed, then as she cried, then as she hiccuped. She sat through all the stages of letting out the initial grief that were so familiar. The girl finally seemed to get a hold of herself and she looked up, her brown eyes still rimmed with tears, and sniffled. "Wha-what's your name?" she managed to ask. "Serce", she replied. "That's an unusual name", the girl commented. "Yeah, well it's not really me name", said Serce, "but that's what you can call me, all right? That's what everybody calls me". The girl nodded and attempted a smile. "Why do people call you that?" Serce chuckled. "Why, you'se pretty curious now, ain't ya? Well to make a long story short, me old boyfriend was Polish and it means 'heart' in his language. It just kinda stuck"
The girl seemed satisfied with that answer. Unconsciously she removed her right hand from its clench on the left. Serce glanced at her left hand and whistled "phhhew, dat's a nice sparkler ya got on dat finger!" The girl suddenly realized what she had done and grabbed her ring again. Seeming to remember what had made her sad all along, she then let it go and started twirling it around. "My grandma- minha vó – she gave it to me... I love things that sparkle or shine... glittery things..." Serce sensed that this grandma was the source of all the grief and trying to lighten things up a little, said "Well, dat's nice. I guess I'se gonna call you Glittah then. Whatcha think?" The girl smiled again through her tears. "I-I like that." Serce smiled. "Get up, kid. Let's go get ya somethin ta eat. You look like you'se starvin'." As if until then she hadn't realized how hungry she was, Glitter finally looked totally awake. "Oh...but I don't have any money..." Serce smiled. "Dontcha worry yourself bout that. Leave it to me." Glitter got up and brushed herself off, eager to accept. Serce laughed and got up too. "Come on kid, let's move!" They walked out of the alley together, not talking but with a mutual feeling of understanding between them.
" 'Ey, Mario! Marito!" Serce yelled as they stood in the back of an Italian restaurant. She looked at Glitter, who hadn't uttered a word during their 10-minute walk. She was staring off into space, seemingly dazed again. Serce wondered what was this one's story; who was she running from, who had kicked her out, who had died? It was almost always one of those three. Suddenly a plump little man wobbled out the back door. "Serce! Bambina! Where 'ave you been, eh? I amissed you!" Serce smiled at him. "Mario, amico. I'se been around. How'se you doin'? Dis 'ere is me new pal, Glittah. Glittah, dis is me old pal, Mario. Da best cook in all New York!" Mario chuckled and reddened at the compliment, obviously flattered but determined to be modest. "Ey, I'm not da best, maybe one of da best. Como stai,Glitta? " Glitter's eyes suddenly sparkled. "Oh! Italian...that sounds so much like Portuguese... that's my grandmother's language! Um... bem!?" Mario laughed. "Bene, bene! Molto bene!" Glitter seemed radiant now. Obviously something had brought her close to home; it seemed to be the language. Serce was curious.
"So, Serce, awhat awill it abe today, eh? We have some eccelente Fettucini Alfredo, does that asounda agood?" Serce looked at Glitter, whose mouth seemed to water at the mention of food. "Perfetto, Mario. Are you sure you can spare us a plate?" Mario feigned shock. "One? I can aspare ayou athree if I want! Due Fettucini Alfredo, comin aright up!" With that he scampered back into the restaurant. Glitter stared after him; then she glanced at Serce. Serce knew what she was wondering: how she could afford such a meal. She answered before the question was even asked: "Mario's brother used to be me mudder's teacha. She used to bring me here all da time. After she – left – I stopped coming cuz I couldn't pay for da food here on me own. Once I passed by during da day, dough, and he saw me and came yelling out the door bout how I never came around any more. When I told 'im why, he was shocked, offended even. He told me to pass by whenever I wanted, dat at least once a day he'd have a good meal fer me. In honor of me mudder."
Glitter just absorbed this silently, and nodded. "It sounds so much like Portuguese" she said. "Huh?" "Italian, it sounds like my grandma's language. My language..." Serce pulled up two crates and plopped down on one of them. "Sit, kid. We can enjoy da fresh air while we eat." Glitter absently sat on the other crate. A few minutes passed and Mario came back with two steaming plates of pasta plus a loaf of bread. He handed them to the girls and rushed back inside, saying there was a problem in the kitchen and telling them not to be strangers; "adropa by more often, eh? Was nice meeting you, Glitta! Ciao!"
Glitter just stared at the plate for a few minutes, like she didn't believe what was in front of her. Serce had already dug into hers, and tore off a chunk of the bread. "Eat, kid! Eat before it gets cold!" Glitter finally came to her senses and started eating, savoring every forkful. In between bites, she said: "uumm...it reminds me of my grandma's macarrão" Serce decided to wait a bit more before she asked about this famous grandma. She had a feeling she already knew what the answer would be, though. When they were finally done, she looked at Glitter. "So, kid, maybe you should tell me a bit of yer life story. Maybe I shouldn't even be callin u kid, you'se how old exactly?" Glitter stared at her for a full minute before responding. "Dezessete...I'm 17." "Good, so you'se still a year youngah, I can still call you kid!" Serce playfully replied. Glitter didn't even smile. Suddenly, out of the blue, she started crying again. This time, she muttered understandable words. Her story only confirmed what Serce was thinking all along: "My grandmother! She died! Minha avó... They killed her! She was shot... Why? Why? All she did was move here from Brazil so she could take care of me! She had her little restaurant, her own business, she didn't bother anyone... she took care of me and I took care of her and we both took care of the restaurant and that was our life! And it was pretty good... until they came! Two men...with guns....they came for the money... we didn't have a lot, the restaurant wasn't big...so they got angry...and they shot her! They shot her... Vó, Vó, Vó, Vó..."
Again, Serce's heart went out to her. This time she felt close enough to give Glitter a quick hug. "Hey, kid", she playfully punched her shoulder. "I'se real sorry all dat had to happen to you.You ain't the only one I'se heard a story like dat from. But listen, you'se gotta twinkle in yer eye I don't wanna see ya lose, ya hear? Get up and face da world, dat's what we all gotta do." Glitter's sobs once more became small hiccups. Her face was now swollen from all the crying, and weary from the exhaustion. "Tell ya what," Serce said,"we'se gonna get outta heah now and go look fer a place to sleep. I'se a newsie, kid, ya know what dat is?" Glitter shook her head no. "I sell papes fer a livin'. Not exactly yer dream job, I guess, but it can be pretty fun. I can teach ya all da tricks and we can be pardners. Whaddaya say? It'll get you off dese streets and get yer mind off... odder tings."
Glitter looked thoughtful. The only person in the world she was attached to, was dead. The place she used to call home, destroyed. She had no friends to turn to, nobody to help her. This girl had found her in a miserable state, listened to her story, fed her, and now she was offering even more help. She didn't have anything to lose. She looked at Serce and simply said "Thank you". Serce smiled. "So, looks like I got meself a new pardner. And a new friend. Come on kid, let's start walkin'. See if we can find a place to stay from now on." They both got up and left their plates at Mario's back doorstep. "Won't they break or something?", Glitter asked. "Naah, Mario knows where to step when I'se been here", Serce replied.
They started walking off. By that time, it was already pretty late. Serce kept a hand on the pocket knife, and glanced around every once in a while. She was racking her brain trying to remember if she knew of any lodging houses nearby that would still be signing people in at this hour. "So, Glittah. Da first thing ya gotta learn about bein' a newsie is dat: headlines don't sell papes, newsies sell papes.... "
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Another great skyscraper built! Right here in New York City! Extract Extract read all about it!" "Glittah!", hissed Serce, "what da heck are ya doin'? Who'd ya t'ink's gonna buy a pape wid dat headline? Plus it ain't 'extract', it's 'extra!" Glitter sighed and pushed a loose strand of hair away from her eyes. Running her fingers through her thick, dark hair for what seemed like the hundredth time that day, she got her ring caught in a few strands. "Ai! Droga…" she exclaimed, while struggling to untangle her hand from her curls. "Sorry, Serce! I really don't know what I'm doing here. I just can't seem to get this right…" Serce sighed, more in sympathy than annoyance. Improving the headlines wasn't exactly easy, especially for newcomers who didn't know what people liked to read about in newspapers.
"'Tis ok, kid. Dis ain't really easy, I guess. Try to watch and loin, okay?" Glitter nodded meekly. She knew Serce had spent her own money to buy both their papes and she wasn't doing much to repay that. "Money scandal exposed in construction of new building in da city! Extra extra! Read all about it!," Serce screeched out at the top of her lungs. "T'anks, mistah. Heah ya go", she said, exchanging a paper for a penny. "See kid? Dat's what its all about. People wanna see misery, corruption, death; all dat's foul in da woild, dat's what dey're interested in;dat's what sells." "But Serce…that's sorta lying, dontcha think?" "Naw kid. It's makin' a livin', by our means, dat's all. They'll git ovah it and read whatevah's left in da pape. Nevah hang around too long aftah ya make a sale, dough, cause some people git mad when dey foist find out 'bout our…" Serce searched for a word that wouldn't seem too deceiving, "ovah-developed headlines." She seemed pleased with that and gave Glitter a hopeful smile, then bounded away to a couple who was passing by.
Glitter tried to feel hopeful in return but couldn't. Her stomach was rumbling; this was about the time she'd have lunch with her grandma at the restaurant. But she had no money to buy food and she definitely wasn't ready to ask Serce to do it for her. She knew the girl was poor and could barely afford her own expenses, much less those of two people. Determined to sell a newspaper, she got up and took a deep breath. "Extra extra –" before she could even think of an 'over-developed' headline to pronounce, she tripped and stumbled onto a passerby. "Hey! Watch where yer goin', missy!" a tough-looking boy, with reddish hair and a sweaty face, said. "Ah- h I'm sorry! I didn't mean to, I –" she stuttered. "Aw, save it. Just be more careful." he replied and hurried away.
Her chin started quivering. Before she could help it, a few tears found their way out of her eyes and meandered down her cheeks. Serce was on the other side of the street but had caught the whole scene. She ran back and caught Glitter by the arm. "Kid! What's wrong? Whad did dat muttonhead say ta ya?" "Oh, nothing, Serce, nothing. I'm sorry… this is just too much for me. I simply can't sell!" she blurted out in between hiccups.
A well-dressed elderly man approached them and kindly said, "Oh, little girl, don't cry! I'm sure whatever's bothering you will get better. Here's a shiny nickel for one of those newspapers. Keep the change." Glitter stared at him in disbelief. Serce elbowed her in the ribs, "The pape! Give it to him!" "Oh! Here sir. Thank you very much. Have a nice day." He smiled and strolled off. Serce grinned at her. "Well, who would've t'ought yer foist sale would have such a dramatic touch and good profit?" Glitter giggled. "I'se inclined to tell ya not ta dry dose tears kid, but I don't t'ink dere's many oddah people in da woild, let alone dis city, dat would give ya money outta sympathy." Glitter was already wiping her dirty sleeve across her face. She handed Serce the nickel. "It's yours. I still owe you more, but it's a start." Serce glared at her in mock anger. "Keep it kid. It's yers outta merit. I'll let ya buy me lunch dough." "Follow me, then!" Glitter started walking, then she stopped. "Er, Serce? I don't really know where I'm going." Serce laughed. "All right kid. I lead da way, you buy da food."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Kid?" "Yes, Serce?" Glitter answered between mouthfuls of sauerkraut. "Maybe ya should go back ta da Lodgin' House fer d'afternoon. I'se done sellin' my papes and I'd be glad ta sell da rest o' yers now. Seein' dat u're not in such a great mood today an' all…" her voice trailed off. Glitter immediately realized this was a polite way of telling her that she really wasn't' very good at selling after all; not that it came as a surprise. She was glad at the offer, though, because she really didn't feel like going back onto those overheated, crowded streets filled with mean- looking people. Witnessing a shooting had left her a bit paranoid. "Um, ok Serce. If you think that's best." she smiled up at her new friend. Gosh, if only I could show her how grateful I am for all she's been doing for me, Glitter thought. Serce smiled back. "Great, den. Ya know yer way dere? Its practically round da coiner from here." "Yes, I believe I do."
After lunch, Serce and Glitter walked out of Tibby's together. Then they each took a different turn; Serce went left, back to selling, while Glitter went right, back to the Lodging House.
Someone was lurking around in the darkness muttering words in a foreign language.
This being New York of the 1900s, neither feature was very surprising. People were constantly wandering about, and strange tongues were no longer strange because of the assortment that was heard daily; nothing was very odd in NYC.
That's why nobody really payed attention to her. So the girl stumbled on, her hair hanging in her face, her right hand clenched over the left, protecting something that couldn't be seen. She was ragged and out of energy, her body was drained of any nourishment, but somehow she managed to roam around. What in her trance-like state seemed to her like eternity, turned out to be in reality, four days. She walked on during the days and and parts of the nights, only sleeping a few hours wherever she could. She would not stop mumbling... at one point, her body could no longer sustain the search her mind demanded, and she simply collapsed in an alley. There, among old crates and stray pieces of clothing, she lay for another day. Her right hand remained covering her left.
It was getting dark and Serce was tired. Her day had been simply too tiring; up at the crack of dawn, she had spent the day working and now, because of a fight that no longer made any sense, she had no place to sleep. While walking, she ran into an old acquaintance with whom she chatted for a few minutes and had a smoke. They talked about the day's headlines (the factual and the made-up ones), selling spots, and profits. With the last puff of her cigarette Serce walked away waving.
Her current "homeless" status didn't bother her that much; she had been in this position so many times for the past five years that she had become accostumed to it. No lodging house or room to crash in? There's always the park, there's always a bench somewhere, a doorstep, or not sleeping at all. She'd probably fix everything soon, so why get miffed? She walked into an alley and looked around her, considering the surroundings and pondering if she could spend the night there.
Undecided, she started poking around a bit to find a mildly comfortable place to sit. Suddenly something crashed behind her. She turned around sharply, her hand instinctively going to the pocket knife stuck in her belt. She saw a couple of turned-over crates and something moving behind them. Then came the moaning: "vovó? Vó? Aonde eu estou?..." It sounded like a girl. A very tired girl.
Serce stepped over a few of the crates and peered cautiously over a trash bin; her hand never left the pocket knife. On these streets, especially at night, you could never be too careful. What she saw, though, made her hands drop to her sides.
Sitting amongst old, torn linen and pieces of wood from broken crates was a frail little person, with glazed eyes gazing at her through a mat of thick, dark hair. The girl looked exhausted, hungry, and completely unaware of anything around her. She kept on repeating: "vó, vó, vó..." Serce realized the girl hadn't even noticed she was there.
She cleared her throat to try to make herself noticed without scaring the girl; but she didn't even respond. Serce now crouched down in front of her and gently pushed away some of the loose strands of hair framing her face. The girl seemed startled, but not afraid. She hadn't removed her right hand from over her left, Serce noticed. She thought she might be hurt and tried to pry the girl's delicate but dirty fingers loose. The girl instantly straightened up and managed to push Serce away with one of her feet. "Não toca! É meu! É meu! É da vovó!!!" she yelled. Serce had lost her balance and was now sprawled on her back. "Wow, calm down! I'se trying ta help you!". She then realized the girl might not speak English. But to Serce's surprise, the girl answered in a clear voice: "I don't need help, I just need my grandmother!" and suddenly she started sobbing. All the sorrow and anger that had been inside her for days now poured out in rivers of tears and random babblings Serce couldn't really make out.
Her heart went out to the poor girl. Serce was oversensitive and she had become used to seeing kids on the street; kids who had been kicked out or ran away from home, ran away from beatings and drunken relatives or boyfriends, kids who were being chased down by the police... she had seen it all. Walking these streets every day to sell papes had made her very familiar with the hardships of city life. She had a turbulent past herself, having been chased away from home by her father and brother who were trying to... well, she didn't even like remembering. She had also spent many days in alleys, crying her eyes out, until she ended up becoming a newsie. So right now, seeing this girl in front of her, she almost saw herself.
Serce just sat there and sympathetically patted the girl's shoulder as she sobbed, then as she cried, then as she hiccuped. She sat through all the stages of letting out the initial grief that were so familiar. The girl finally seemed to get a hold of herself and she looked up, her brown eyes still rimmed with tears, and sniffled. "Wha-what's your name?" she managed to ask. "Serce", she replied. "That's an unusual name", the girl commented. "Yeah, well it's not really me name", said Serce, "but that's what you can call me, all right? That's what everybody calls me". The girl nodded and attempted a smile. "Why do people call you that?" Serce chuckled. "Why, you'se pretty curious now, ain't ya? Well to make a long story short, me old boyfriend was Polish and it means 'heart' in his language. It just kinda stuck"
The girl seemed satisfied with that answer. Unconsciously she removed her right hand from its clench on the left. Serce glanced at her left hand and whistled "phhhew, dat's a nice sparkler ya got on dat finger!" The girl suddenly realized what she had done and grabbed her ring again. Seeming to remember what had made her sad all along, she then let it go and started twirling it around. "My grandma- minha vó – she gave it to me... I love things that sparkle or shine... glittery things..." Serce sensed that this grandma was the source of all the grief and trying to lighten things up a little, said "Well, dat's nice. I guess I'se gonna call you Glittah then. Whatcha think?" The girl smiled again through her tears. "I-I like that." Serce smiled. "Get up, kid. Let's go get ya somethin ta eat. You look like you'se starvin'." As if until then she hadn't realized how hungry she was, Glitter finally looked totally awake. "Oh...but I don't have any money..." Serce smiled. "Dontcha worry yourself bout that. Leave it to me." Glitter got up and brushed herself off, eager to accept. Serce laughed and got up too. "Come on kid, let's move!" They walked out of the alley together, not talking but with a mutual feeling of understanding between them.
" 'Ey, Mario! Marito!" Serce yelled as they stood in the back of an Italian restaurant. She looked at Glitter, who hadn't uttered a word during their 10-minute walk. She was staring off into space, seemingly dazed again. Serce wondered what was this one's story; who was she running from, who had kicked her out, who had died? It was almost always one of those three. Suddenly a plump little man wobbled out the back door. "Serce! Bambina! Where 'ave you been, eh? I amissed you!" Serce smiled at him. "Mario, amico. I'se been around. How'se you doin'? Dis 'ere is me new pal, Glittah. Glittah, dis is me old pal, Mario. Da best cook in all New York!" Mario chuckled and reddened at the compliment, obviously flattered but determined to be modest. "Ey, I'm not da best, maybe one of da best. Como stai,Glitta? " Glitter's eyes suddenly sparkled. "Oh! Italian...that sounds so much like Portuguese... that's my grandmother's language! Um... bem!?" Mario laughed. "Bene, bene! Molto bene!" Glitter seemed radiant now. Obviously something had brought her close to home; it seemed to be the language. Serce was curious.
"So, Serce, awhat awill it abe today, eh? We have some eccelente Fettucini Alfredo, does that asounda agood?" Serce looked at Glitter, whose mouth seemed to water at the mention of food. "Perfetto, Mario. Are you sure you can spare us a plate?" Mario feigned shock. "One? I can aspare ayou athree if I want! Due Fettucini Alfredo, comin aright up!" With that he scampered back into the restaurant. Glitter stared after him; then she glanced at Serce. Serce knew what she was wondering: how she could afford such a meal. She answered before the question was even asked: "Mario's brother used to be me mudder's teacha. She used to bring me here all da time. After she – left – I stopped coming cuz I couldn't pay for da food here on me own. Once I passed by during da day, dough, and he saw me and came yelling out the door bout how I never came around any more. When I told 'im why, he was shocked, offended even. He told me to pass by whenever I wanted, dat at least once a day he'd have a good meal fer me. In honor of me mudder."
Glitter just absorbed this silently, and nodded. "It sounds so much like Portuguese" she said. "Huh?" "Italian, it sounds like my grandma's language. My language..." Serce pulled up two crates and plopped down on one of them. "Sit, kid. We can enjoy da fresh air while we eat." Glitter absently sat on the other crate. A few minutes passed and Mario came back with two steaming plates of pasta plus a loaf of bread. He handed them to the girls and rushed back inside, saying there was a problem in the kitchen and telling them not to be strangers; "adropa by more often, eh? Was nice meeting you, Glitta! Ciao!"
Glitter just stared at the plate for a few minutes, like she didn't believe what was in front of her. Serce had already dug into hers, and tore off a chunk of the bread. "Eat, kid! Eat before it gets cold!" Glitter finally came to her senses and started eating, savoring every forkful. In between bites, she said: "uumm...it reminds me of my grandma's macarrão" Serce decided to wait a bit more before she asked about this famous grandma. She had a feeling she already knew what the answer would be, though. When they were finally done, she looked at Glitter. "So, kid, maybe you should tell me a bit of yer life story. Maybe I shouldn't even be callin u kid, you'se how old exactly?" Glitter stared at her for a full minute before responding. "Dezessete...I'm 17." "Good, so you'se still a year youngah, I can still call you kid!" Serce playfully replied. Glitter didn't even smile. Suddenly, out of the blue, she started crying again. This time, she muttered understandable words. Her story only confirmed what Serce was thinking all along: "My grandmother! She died! Minha avó... They killed her! She was shot... Why? Why? All she did was move here from Brazil so she could take care of me! She had her little restaurant, her own business, she didn't bother anyone... she took care of me and I took care of her and we both took care of the restaurant and that was our life! And it was pretty good... until they came! Two men...with guns....they came for the money... we didn't have a lot, the restaurant wasn't big...so they got angry...and they shot her! They shot her... Vó, Vó, Vó, Vó..."
Again, Serce's heart went out to her. This time she felt close enough to give Glitter a quick hug. "Hey, kid", she playfully punched her shoulder. "I'se real sorry all dat had to happen to you.You ain't the only one I'se heard a story like dat from. But listen, you'se gotta twinkle in yer eye I don't wanna see ya lose, ya hear? Get up and face da world, dat's what we all gotta do." Glitter's sobs once more became small hiccups. Her face was now swollen from all the crying, and weary from the exhaustion. "Tell ya what," Serce said,"we'se gonna get outta heah now and go look fer a place to sleep. I'se a newsie, kid, ya know what dat is?" Glitter shook her head no. "I sell papes fer a livin'. Not exactly yer dream job, I guess, but it can be pretty fun. I can teach ya all da tricks and we can be pardners. Whaddaya say? It'll get you off dese streets and get yer mind off... odder tings."
Glitter looked thoughtful. The only person in the world she was attached to, was dead. The place she used to call home, destroyed. She had no friends to turn to, nobody to help her. This girl had found her in a miserable state, listened to her story, fed her, and now she was offering even more help. She didn't have anything to lose. She looked at Serce and simply said "Thank you". Serce smiled. "So, looks like I got meself a new pardner. And a new friend. Come on kid, let's start walkin'. See if we can find a place to stay from now on." They both got up and left their plates at Mario's back doorstep. "Won't they break or something?", Glitter asked. "Naah, Mario knows where to step when I'se been here", Serce replied.
They started walking off. By that time, it was already pretty late. Serce kept a hand on the pocket knife, and glanced around every once in a while. She was racking her brain trying to remember if she knew of any lodging houses nearby that would still be signing people in at this hour. "So, Glittah. Da first thing ya gotta learn about bein' a newsie is dat: headlines don't sell papes, newsies sell papes.... "
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"Another great skyscraper built! Right here in New York City! Extract Extract read all about it!" "Glittah!", hissed Serce, "what da heck are ya doin'? Who'd ya t'ink's gonna buy a pape wid dat headline? Plus it ain't 'extract', it's 'extra!" Glitter sighed and pushed a loose strand of hair away from her eyes. Running her fingers through her thick, dark hair for what seemed like the hundredth time that day, she got her ring caught in a few strands. "Ai! Droga…" she exclaimed, while struggling to untangle her hand from her curls. "Sorry, Serce! I really don't know what I'm doing here. I just can't seem to get this right…" Serce sighed, more in sympathy than annoyance. Improving the headlines wasn't exactly easy, especially for newcomers who didn't know what people liked to read about in newspapers.
"'Tis ok, kid. Dis ain't really easy, I guess. Try to watch and loin, okay?" Glitter nodded meekly. She knew Serce had spent her own money to buy both their papes and she wasn't doing much to repay that. "Money scandal exposed in construction of new building in da city! Extra extra! Read all about it!," Serce screeched out at the top of her lungs. "T'anks, mistah. Heah ya go", she said, exchanging a paper for a penny. "See kid? Dat's what its all about. People wanna see misery, corruption, death; all dat's foul in da woild, dat's what dey're interested in;dat's what sells." "But Serce…that's sorta lying, dontcha think?" "Naw kid. It's makin' a livin', by our means, dat's all. They'll git ovah it and read whatevah's left in da pape. Nevah hang around too long aftah ya make a sale, dough, cause some people git mad when dey foist find out 'bout our…" Serce searched for a word that wouldn't seem too deceiving, "ovah-developed headlines." She seemed pleased with that and gave Glitter a hopeful smile, then bounded away to a couple who was passing by.
Glitter tried to feel hopeful in return but couldn't. Her stomach was rumbling; this was about the time she'd have lunch with her grandma at the restaurant. But she had no money to buy food and she definitely wasn't ready to ask Serce to do it for her. She knew the girl was poor and could barely afford her own expenses, much less those of two people. Determined to sell a newspaper, she got up and took a deep breath. "Extra extra –" before she could even think of an 'over-developed' headline to pronounce, she tripped and stumbled onto a passerby. "Hey! Watch where yer goin', missy!" a tough-looking boy, with reddish hair and a sweaty face, said. "Ah- h I'm sorry! I didn't mean to, I –" she stuttered. "Aw, save it. Just be more careful." he replied and hurried away.
Her chin started quivering. Before she could help it, a few tears found their way out of her eyes and meandered down her cheeks. Serce was on the other side of the street but had caught the whole scene. She ran back and caught Glitter by the arm. "Kid! What's wrong? Whad did dat muttonhead say ta ya?" "Oh, nothing, Serce, nothing. I'm sorry… this is just too much for me. I simply can't sell!" she blurted out in between hiccups.
A well-dressed elderly man approached them and kindly said, "Oh, little girl, don't cry! I'm sure whatever's bothering you will get better. Here's a shiny nickel for one of those newspapers. Keep the change." Glitter stared at him in disbelief. Serce elbowed her in the ribs, "The pape! Give it to him!" "Oh! Here sir. Thank you very much. Have a nice day." He smiled and strolled off. Serce grinned at her. "Well, who would've t'ought yer foist sale would have such a dramatic touch and good profit?" Glitter giggled. "I'se inclined to tell ya not ta dry dose tears kid, but I don't t'ink dere's many oddah people in da woild, let alone dis city, dat would give ya money outta sympathy." Glitter was already wiping her dirty sleeve across her face. She handed Serce the nickel. "It's yours. I still owe you more, but it's a start." Serce glared at her in mock anger. "Keep it kid. It's yers outta merit. I'll let ya buy me lunch dough." "Follow me, then!" Glitter started walking, then she stopped. "Er, Serce? I don't really know where I'm going." Serce laughed. "All right kid. I lead da way, you buy da food."
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"Kid?" "Yes, Serce?" Glitter answered between mouthfuls of sauerkraut. "Maybe ya should go back ta da Lodgin' House fer d'afternoon. I'se done sellin' my papes and I'd be glad ta sell da rest o' yers now. Seein' dat u're not in such a great mood today an' all…" her voice trailed off. Glitter immediately realized this was a polite way of telling her that she really wasn't' very good at selling after all; not that it came as a surprise. She was glad at the offer, though, because she really didn't feel like going back onto those overheated, crowded streets filled with mean- looking people. Witnessing a shooting had left her a bit paranoid. "Um, ok Serce. If you think that's best." she smiled up at her new friend. Gosh, if only I could show her how grateful I am for all she's been doing for me, Glitter thought. Serce smiled back. "Great, den. Ya know yer way dere? Its practically round da coiner from here." "Yes, I believe I do."
After lunch, Serce and Glitter walked out of Tibby's together. Then they each took a different turn; Serce went left, back to selling, while Glitter went right, back to the Lodging House.