The Luck of the Irish
Maggie Malloy hastily made her way down the crowded Manhattan street desperately trying to find a newsboy. Her mother had sent her out to by the morning edition before breakfast. Maggie was thrilled to get out of the house; she hated being stuck in the cold and old Brownstone she had resided in since she was eight, when she had come to America from Ireland.
Maggie pulled her long pea coat that fell to her ankles closer to her. It was freezing outside, the crisp October wind whipping her crazy red tresses about her as she looked maniacally for a newsie, any newsie. She only had minutes until her mother would scold her for being late. Maggie put a white- leather gloved hand into her coat pocket and pulled out a nickel. Just as she had given up hope and was about to turn around and go home, she spotted a newsboy just at the corner of the street she was on, hawking out ridiculous headlines she highly doubted we true. He was standing just beside a warm chestnut vender selling steaming bags of chestnuts to passerby's.
Quickly crossing the street before she was run over by a horse and carriage, Maggie made her way up to the newsboy. She waited until he had finished selling a paper to a young girl around her age. He was taking quite a long time, and as Maggie waited longer and longer she got impatient.
"Excuse me!" She cried exasperated, her voice hinted with her native accent. "Are you quite done here, eh?" She wasn't one to be arrogant, but she really was in a hurry.
The girl turned around and frowned. She shook her head and scampered away, her blonde locks flowing behind her. The newsboy rounded on Maggie looking extremely aggravated.
"Whatcha do dat foah?" He said. "Dat was meh one ticket tah pleasah awl night!"
Maggie made a face which said 'revolting' all over it. "Please, spare me," she said, not wishing to hear the details of the boys idea of a night full of pleasure. "May I please have a paper?"
The newsboy shook his head, and bent over his bag, searching for a newspaper. Maggie studied him. He was tall, much taller than her. A few heads above her she guessed. He looked around eighteen or nineteen, no younger nor older. He was wearing a long shirt rolled up at the sleeves coming to his elbows. His newsie hat was placed upon his head, covering his brown curls, and he wore cut off pants. It was very cold out, and Maggie stared at him, amazed he could take this weather.
"Aren't you cold?" Maggie couldn't help asking. She was freezing and she was wearing a petticoat, thick long sleeved blouse and ankle length skirt, plus her wool long coat AND white leather gloves. How did this boy do it?
The boy looked up at Maggie, and she was startled by his warm chocolate eyes. He didn't seem aggravated anymore, and his demeanor was much less tense. Handing her the paper, he waited for his money. Maggie shook out of her daze and handed him his money.
"I'se savin up foah a coat. But I'se used to dah cold," he said, his voice soft and warm.
Maggie pitied him. Here he was, not much older than her own sixteen years of age, making a living for himself. She adored him immediately, admiring his bravery. She had been supported pretty decently most of her life, and never had to worry about food on the table, or clothes to wear.
"Really? I admire you," she said. She couldn't help it. She had a tendency to say things on her mind right away.
The boy looked taken aback. "Aye, yeh do?" He asked roughly, shifting his weight to his left foot. "Most goils would be like awl 'awwwwwl' and give me some moah money. But you'se..foist you'se break up me one chance wit dat blonde doll, and now you'se is admirin' me foah bein poah. What next? Are you'se gonna make me sing ya dah headlines?"
Maggie scrunched her nose at him. "Oh haha. I'm sorry, sometimes I say things off the top of my head and I can't help it." Maggie could feel herself blushing, suddenly self-conscious. She cursed her creamy, white skin at the moment. Why couldn't she just stop blushing? Blinking her extremely deep blue eyes, she shook her head. "I'm sorry, thank you for the paper."
She turned to go, but paused when she heard the boy call out for her name. Maggie turned around. "It's Maggie. Maggie Malloy."
The boy smiled. "Me names Mush. I'se hope tah see ya round Miss Maggie."
With a small and shy smile, Maggie turned and disappeared into the mad Manhattan rush.
Maggie Malloy hastily made her way down the crowded Manhattan street desperately trying to find a newsboy. Her mother had sent her out to by the morning edition before breakfast. Maggie was thrilled to get out of the house; she hated being stuck in the cold and old Brownstone she had resided in since she was eight, when she had come to America from Ireland.
Maggie pulled her long pea coat that fell to her ankles closer to her. It was freezing outside, the crisp October wind whipping her crazy red tresses about her as she looked maniacally for a newsie, any newsie. She only had minutes until her mother would scold her for being late. Maggie put a white- leather gloved hand into her coat pocket and pulled out a nickel. Just as she had given up hope and was about to turn around and go home, she spotted a newsboy just at the corner of the street she was on, hawking out ridiculous headlines she highly doubted we true. He was standing just beside a warm chestnut vender selling steaming bags of chestnuts to passerby's.
Quickly crossing the street before she was run over by a horse and carriage, Maggie made her way up to the newsboy. She waited until he had finished selling a paper to a young girl around her age. He was taking quite a long time, and as Maggie waited longer and longer she got impatient.
"Excuse me!" She cried exasperated, her voice hinted with her native accent. "Are you quite done here, eh?" She wasn't one to be arrogant, but she really was in a hurry.
The girl turned around and frowned. She shook her head and scampered away, her blonde locks flowing behind her. The newsboy rounded on Maggie looking extremely aggravated.
"Whatcha do dat foah?" He said. "Dat was meh one ticket tah pleasah awl night!"
Maggie made a face which said 'revolting' all over it. "Please, spare me," she said, not wishing to hear the details of the boys idea of a night full of pleasure. "May I please have a paper?"
The newsboy shook his head, and bent over his bag, searching for a newspaper. Maggie studied him. He was tall, much taller than her. A few heads above her she guessed. He looked around eighteen or nineteen, no younger nor older. He was wearing a long shirt rolled up at the sleeves coming to his elbows. His newsie hat was placed upon his head, covering his brown curls, and he wore cut off pants. It was very cold out, and Maggie stared at him, amazed he could take this weather.
"Aren't you cold?" Maggie couldn't help asking. She was freezing and she was wearing a petticoat, thick long sleeved blouse and ankle length skirt, plus her wool long coat AND white leather gloves. How did this boy do it?
The boy looked up at Maggie, and she was startled by his warm chocolate eyes. He didn't seem aggravated anymore, and his demeanor was much less tense. Handing her the paper, he waited for his money. Maggie shook out of her daze and handed him his money.
"I'se savin up foah a coat. But I'se used to dah cold," he said, his voice soft and warm.
Maggie pitied him. Here he was, not much older than her own sixteen years of age, making a living for himself. She adored him immediately, admiring his bravery. She had been supported pretty decently most of her life, and never had to worry about food on the table, or clothes to wear.
"Really? I admire you," she said. She couldn't help it. She had a tendency to say things on her mind right away.
The boy looked taken aback. "Aye, yeh do?" He asked roughly, shifting his weight to his left foot. "Most goils would be like awl 'awwwwwl' and give me some moah money. But you'se..foist you'se break up me one chance wit dat blonde doll, and now you'se is admirin' me foah bein poah. What next? Are you'se gonna make me sing ya dah headlines?"
Maggie scrunched her nose at him. "Oh haha. I'm sorry, sometimes I say things off the top of my head and I can't help it." Maggie could feel herself blushing, suddenly self-conscious. She cursed her creamy, white skin at the moment. Why couldn't she just stop blushing? Blinking her extremely deep blue eyes, she shook her head. "I'm sorry, thank you for the paper."
She turned to go, but paused when she heard the boy call out for her name. Maggie turned around. "It's Maggie. Maggie Malloy."
The boy smiled. "Me names Mush. I'se hope tah see ya round Miss Maggie."
With a small and shy smile, Maggie turned and disappeared into the mad Manhattan rush.