Faye...Faye, quick...he's here, I know it...help me...Faye...Faye...help me!... please, please...oh, God, please...help me, please... Oh God...
Faye's eyes opened abruptly, and she sat bolt upright, struggling to breathe. Her dark room came in blurry. She blinked, and jumped when tears from her unconscious touched her cheeks. She swung her head around wildly. Every blackened corner had a density that was so very thick; they had become caves for her nightmares. That voice had been so close, so real, and so afraid... but she was alone. Not one floorboard was creaking, and there was no sound but her own breathing. With a shaky hand, she touched her cheek and smeared her tears over her sweat-soaked skin.
She lay back down and coughed, choking slightly on the phlegm seeping from her lungs. She turned on her side, thinking the same horrible thoughts that kept her up night after night... she could feel her insides crumbling like an ancient tombstone. She was disentegrating into this house, this floor, this reminder of the family she lost. Wiping a straggling tear away, she closed her eyes. One thought was firm in her mind as she tumbled back into a restless sleep... I can't do this no more... I can't do this.
PART I: INSIDE
The morning rose above the inner borough of Brooklyn, lighting up the alleyways and the shadows beneath the park trees. Birds began to chirp and cart wheels began to rumble down the cobblestone, vibrating the whole city into a new day.
Faye was already awake. She clomped into the small living area, a white sheet trailing behind her. Stretching the sheet out in her hands, she shook it, then laid it flat on the floor. She did not waste time. Objects from around her wooden shack crashed pell-mell onto the sheet: A few framed photographs, two diaries, a wooden smoking pipe, a change of clothes, and a pile of old lace that was filthy with dust. Without checking for any straggling memories, Faye pulled the four corners of the sheet together, tied it off, and marched outside. She did not close the door behind her.
The morning sun was orange, and bright. A heavy breeze told Faye that rain was close, but she did not concern herself with it. She would rather swim one hundred miles to a new destination than spend one more night in that old shack.
She was walking down the center of a narrow, straight dirt road surrounded by small wooden houses much like her own. However, there were no children to ask her where she was going; no women sweeping off the walks to their front doors or heading to work; no men kissing their families goodbye. Though Faye heard the ghosts of their voices and laughter, they had abandoned this place long ago.
She walked along the dirt path until she reached cobblestone, and she embraced the invisibility she possessed in the slowly brimming crowd. Vendors were setting up their stations, and more and more carriages clopped by. Heads covered in hats, bonnets, and ribbons weaved through the streets and the horses, heading for the open market and shops.
A mere few blocks later, Faye stopped and rested her legs on the stoop of an apartment building. She pulled her pre-rolled cigarettes from her shirt, struck a match on the cement stairs, and waited, smoking slowly.
"C'mon, Mae. We're gonna be late if you don't hurry up! Come on!"
"I'm right behind you!"
Faye smiled, and flicked her cigarette away as four feet came down the stairs towards her. A young girl with dirty blond hair stepped down onto the street, but the other pair of feet stopped just behind her. Faye turned her head to look.
"Hey, James."
This dirty blond head belonged to a boy with spectacles. He had not removed his look of delighted surprise when Faye had turned to greet him, and he pulled her up and embraced her.
"Watcha doin' here so early?" He grinned.
Faye did not reply; she glanced down at her bag, then back up at James. He sighed, and sat down, lighting a cigarette of his own. After a long pause, he looked up at her.
"Where ya going?"
Faye kicked at the steps, her hands on her hips. "Haven't decided."
"Then stay here until ya do! Pop won't mind, you know it."
"Can't," Faye replied, still kicking at the concrete. "I'm sorry."
He looked down at his own feet. "When will I see you again?"
"Dunno." It was too early in the day to cry, and Faye knew if she said too much that she would.
"Right..." James stood, and put his hands in his pockets. "Be careful, Faye."
She nodded. "Yeah, you too. Tell Mae an' your pa I said... ya know." She picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder.
"I will."
For one moment, Faye looked right at him. It was a mistake. Her eyes began to pool.
"Bye, James." She touched his arm briefly. Then she walked forward into the crowd feeling as though a fog hung over her head, and her head only.
"Love you, Faye."
Faye turned around despite herself to reply, but James was not there. She coughed, turned on her heel, and marched on.
Racetrack walked merrily down the street, his hopes high. His papers had beautifully sold in two hours, which was surely a sign that the coins in his pocket belonged at the tracks. Headed for Brooklyn, he grabbed to the back of a trolley as it began to move, pushing his hat further down as a cool wind swept through the streets.
Spring was just beginning to peak out of the flowers and the trees, teasing the citizens of New York with warm drafts that disappeared as quickly as a branch swayed. But the sky was clear and blue, and the sun was burning steadily, like a fire in the hearth on a cold night. Recognizing someone in the street, Race hopped off the trolley for a slight detour in his journey.
"Blink! Dutchy!" He watched as they turned, and after seeing him, they began to walk towards him.
"How goes it, Race?" Asked the boy with a patch over his eye. "Me an' Dutchy was just headin' to the park."
"You guys finished too?" Asked Race. They nodded, and Race grinned. "Wanna come to the tracks with me? It's a promisin' day boys, I can feel it!" He jingled his pockets in what he obviously supposed was a luring manner, and wiggled his eyebrows. "Whaddaya say?"
Blink smiled rather apologetically. "Actually, we were just gonna go relax in the park before we have to sell again later...but we should go out tonight, or somethin'. I'm sure Medda's got somethin' goin' on, she always does."
Race seemed a bit disappointed for a moment, but then he shrugged. "Oh well. I'll see you guys later." They nodded to each other, and Race headed on his way to Brooklyn, now a little annoyed that he'd jumped off the trolley.
Blink and Dutchy had made their way to Central Park and climbed up into a providing tree. Munching on apples, they quite forgot about having to get back to work in a few short hours.
"Can't wait 'til it gets real warm," said Dutchy longingly, leaning against the trunk.
"Yeah, me neither," Blink nodded. "This weather is awful nice though."
"Bet it rains," Dutchy grumbled.
Blink looked around at him. "Ya know, I think you been hangin' out with Skittery too much. You been grumpy all day."
Dutchy snorted. "That's a stupid thing to say."
Blink shrugged. He watched his legs dangle for a while, and yawned. "Why don't we sit down there?" He motioned towards the grass. "I kin'a fancy a nap."
They swung down, and after taking their hats off and placing them under their heads, they closed their eyes, and fell asleep.
Faye had never walked so quickly down the streets in her life. It seemed to her that the faster she reached the Brooklyn Bridge and crossed over, the easier it would be to leave her one and only borough and home. As she approached her destination, however, she stopped dead, letting her bag hang limply from her hand. She had lived in Brooklyn all her life; she could feel her city buzzing behind her. Would Manhattan be different? Maybe a train to Wyoming, or Oregon, or Washington...
With a jolt she realized quite a few eyes were on her... suspicious, perhaps, or maybe just curious... not caring why they were looking, but not liking it, she ducked behind a brick building. She looked up at it rather dully. Probably another abandoned factory... they were eating up the whole city...
She sat down on her make-shift bag and leaned against the wall. What she really wanted to do was sleep, in every sense of the word. It had been years since she'd gotten a full six or seven hours of sleep at all, and even longer since she'd woken up feeling like it was worth her while to bother. She let her head lean back on the wall as she fumbled for her cigarettes in her shirt pocket. Though she vividly remembered the tragic disasters that had catalyzed and shaped her lonely, hungry life, she could not understand how she had become what she was: starving, numb, and alone.
She sighed, feeling a bit of relief as she exhaled smoke from another cigarette. She was the only survivor of the battle; what she and her family had fought for, she did not know. Deep in her heart, she knew that somewhere, her family was together. In some ways that was comforting, but most of the time, it filled her with rage. Why was she the one left alone to find her way? Why was she the one left to wonder why she was alive at all? Mostly, she felt half dead, anyway. She was just there, walking among a city of other lost, half dead people, all wondering the same thing and feeling just as lonely. Why couldn't she have gone with them?
She shook her head vigorously. A solitary and free seat in a cargo train car would be a much more appropriate place to think these things over.
She closed her eyes, taking another drag off her cigarette. She could feel her body wanting to sleep, wanting to rest... she obediently snuffed out her cigarette and unclenched her muscles. A swift wind pushed past her, and a single rain drop touched her nose.
Blink awoke with a start. Rain was pouring down on Central Park. Dutchy appeared to have only just awoken as well. They scrambled to their feet, grabbed their hats, and ran for it.
"Told ya it would rain, didn't I?" Dutchy yelled over the storm. Blink grinned.
They finally reached home: the Newsies Lodging House of Manhattan. They threw the door open and ran inside, shivering. In the foyer they met two newsies and an old man sitting on the counter in conversation. Another newsie sat on the floor against the wall opposite them, apparently trying to untwist his suspenders.
"Hey, Spot," Blink said to one of the newsies on the counter. "What brings you to Manhattan?" He nodded to the old man before he sat down on the floor next to the other newsie.
"Just visitin',"answered Spot, surveying his wet clothes with ice blue eyes. "I think you can understand why I ain't venturin' home in this weather."
Blink could not argue with this, as he was now wringing out his hat and creating a rather large puddle on the floor. He raised his eyes, looking sheepish.
"Sorry, Kloppman," he said, addressing the old man. "I'll get the mop."
"Don't bother," Kloppman grunted with a wave of his hand. "The rest of ya will be here soon, I imagine. May as well wait 'til all the boots have come through."
The boy next to Blink, whose name was Mush, finally lifted his head. "Where were you, Blink?"
"Me an' Dutchy was sleepin' in the park," Blink shrugged. "Woke up soaked."
Mush snorted. "Good one."
"Don't start, Mush," Blink threatened, though the huge grin he wore made his words rather soft.
The third newsie on the counter slid down. "So, who's up for Medda's tonight?" He asked, rubbing his hands together.
"Actually, I was thinkin' about goin'," said Blink. "Told Race earlier we should."
The boy nodded. "Whaddaya say, Spot?"
Spot shook his head. "Sorry, Jack, I gotta be back with my boys tonight. We been havin' some trouble with Smith lately about curfew and I gotta hold a meetin'." His eyes flicked to the window. The rain was still falling, but only half-heartedly. He slid down off the counter too. "And speakin' a which, the weather's clearin'. I should prob'ly get goin'." He pulled his hat on, and turned to Jack. "I'll get in touch with ya soon, Jacky-boy." He shook Jack's and Kloppman's hands, and, after nodding to the rest of them, took out his cane, and walked out the door.
It was a long walk back to Brooklyn, but Spot did not seem to mind. His face was screwed up in intense thought as he walked; it looked as if his eyes were looking inside his head and arguing with what they saw. As he stepped over the other side of the Brooklyn Bridge, however, the clouds gave a humongous rumble. He winced, and looked up. They sky was once again an ominous, dark gray. He cursed lowly, and headed into a more windy path of buildings to block the rain. And there, as he jogged into a narrow side street next to a large brick building, he met a pitiful sight.
A girl, no doubt about his age, was passed out across a dirty sheet full of clothes. Her face was half hidden, mushed into her bag, and her arms were wrapped tight around it, holding herself to it so as not to slide off onto the cobblestone. He continued walking, willing himself to not get involved, but after just a few seconds, he rolled his eyes, and turned right back around, stopping just above where she lay. He looked her over before he did anything, and realized she was quite lovely. Her hair, which was thick, straight, and black, was cascading down her side and all the way down to her waist. Her arms and what he could see of the bottoms of her legs were pale and muscular, marked here and there with scratches and bruises. She was very thin, and although he could only see one of her eyes, he assumed the dark circle under her left had a twin under the other. Her small feet were bare and callused, as were her hands. He had never seen her before, and yet, she seemed familiar. Finally he leaned forward, and nudged her arm with his cane two times.
Faye awoke to a strange boy standing in front of her, leaning on a gold-topped cane with both hands. She jumped up and grabbed her bag, backing against the wall in her confusion. The boy immediately put up his hands in surrender, but Faye glared at him.
"What do you want?" She hissed.
He glared back. "I was just goin' to ask you if you wanted a place to stay."
Faye merely stared. She was half asleep and completely baffled. Who just offered a stranger a place to stay? What made him think she needed any help?
"What?" She articulated, quite unable to think of anything else to say.
"I live in a lodging house with extra room. Do ya want a place to stay?"
Faye shook her head, trying desperately to clear it of dreams and fill it with the world around her. "I- I'm- no," she spat out finally, her eyes full of outright disbelief. "What makes you think I don' have nowhere to go?" She was rather embarrassed. Judging by the darkening sky and cooling air, she had slept all day long. Her clothes were soaked, she knew she looked awful, and now she was being pitied by some guy she'd never met before in her life. She nearly snorted. This boy obviously thought he could save her, that he could help her. As if she hadn't been on her own for years. As if she hadn't learned the way of the streets before she could tie her own shoes. As if he could offer her anything she couldn't find on her own!
The boy smirked. "My mistake. I suppose you always fall asleep in the rain to take a break from home."
Faye stared at him. A white-hot rage was sweeping through her, though she couldn't completely explain it to herself. Who did he think he was, talking down to a complete stranger? Yet his patience and silence made her uncomfortable. She swung her bag over her shoulder and walked away, not really knowing where she was going; but away from him was a start. As soon as she turned the corner she hid behind a vendor's cart, and watched him pass. He seemed a bit confused himself, she thought. Feeling a bit better, she watched as he strolled through the emptying streets.
Faye was getting colder, and she was extremely hungry. It had been at least three days since her last meal, unless she counted the rotten pear she'd managed to swipe from a trash can the night before. There was no point in crossing the bridge tonight; she would be hungry and cold there too. At least Brooklyn was familiar. She bit her lip. Without asking herself why, she picked up her bag, and slithered down the sidewalk against the buildings, following the strange boy from a distance. This was rather hard as he was moving quite slowly, and kept stopping to talk to people in the street. It was a challenge to find casual ways to stop when he stopped without looking suspicious. More than once she wished she had some accommodating articles to mess with... shoes, a hat, a shawl-but of course, she had none of these things.
Finally, she saw him climb the steps to a large building at the end of a street, meeting many other boys his age on the way inside. The windows were glowing a warm, orange color, and Faye felt a pang of longing as the door shut behind him. She put her bag down on the sidewalk once again, sat down on it, and leaned against the building behind her. She lit a cigarette, and smoked it methodically, watching boy after boy climb the stairs to the lodging house across the street. The smell of food reached her nose, and her stomach groaned and twisted up tight. She would have done anything for some meat, or even a moldy dinner roll... a long and painful drag from her cigarette helped her stomach forget for a moment.
Any sunlight that had been penetrating through the thick clouds had disappeared. Faye was once again exhausted, though she had done very little since she'd been wakened. She had little cover from the sky or from the hypothetical passing cop, but she felt oddly safe. It was not long before she fell asleep again, her head resting on her right shoulder.
Something lifted Faye up, high off the ground. She was moving forward, almost floating... the whistle of a train was loud in her ears. She felt someone place her down, and the train tracks rattling the bed beneath her... heard the clacking of the wheels... felt the wind in her hair... she opened her eyes. Her train car was moving fast through a green valley. In the distance, the valley opened up into a circle of bright white flowers and shining ponds. A large, snow-peaked mountain rose from the ground, and reflected in the water below... in the enveloping dusk, it was almost as blue as the sky.
"Oi! Spot! Wake up, Spot, you're late."
Faye jumped and sat up. As her surroundings came into focus, she gasped. She had no idea where she was, except that she was sitting on an olive green couch with a ratty wool blanket in her lap. But there across from her was the boy from the day before, sitting in an armchair he had obviously slept in. He was rubbing his eyes, and hadn't realized she was awake. As soon as he noticed, he sat back in his chair rather majestically, and looked her over.
"So what's your name, anyway?" He asked.
Ignoring his question for the moment, Faye looked around, remembering her dream. It had been so beautiful. Had that dream started when he brought her in? In any case, he had stayed downstairs with her to make sure she was all right. She was touched, and flustered for being so. She had forgotten his question now, and looked back at him without saying a word.
The boy rolled his eyes. "All right, forget it." He stretched, stood up, and made to walk towards the door.
"I'm Faye," she called, shaking her head to clear it. "My name's Faye."
He stopped, and turned back to her. "Faye," he repeated, looking her right in the eyes. As their gazes locked, a strange feeling crept over her. Spot's ice-blue eyes were full of depth, like she could dive into them, and splash, and float.
"Thanks for lettin' me crash, Spot," said a loud voice. Spot jumped slightly and turned.
"Sure Race," he said carelessly, nodding to the slightly short, brown haired boy that had just come down the staircase. "Tell the boys they should drop by sometime."
Race nodded, and then stopped when he saw Faye. She stood, gathering her bag. "Thanks, Spot," she said, looking at him again.
To her surprise, he smiled genuinely.
"Anytime." And, with a rather confused look on his face, he turned, and left.
Faye looked over at the boy named Race, who was staring at Faye as if he had never seen a female before.
"You uh... know him well?" Race asked.
Faye shook her head. "No," she said blandly. "Why?"
He shrugged. "Jus' wonderin."
There was an awkward moment of silence in which they both stood rather blankly and looked at each other. Quite unabashed, Faye gave him a once-over. She narrowed her eyes.
"You're not from Brooklyn, are ya?"
Race grinned. "Nope. Manhattan. Well, Queens really, but I ain't lived there-anyway, I'm headed to Manhattan after I get my papes. You?"
Faye pondered this for a moment. "Don't really know," she finally said, choosing to be honest. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to have a travel partner, just to get over the bridge, anyway. "Mind if I join ya?"
"Would be my pleasure, doll," said Race.
They walked out into the sun together, which was already much warmer than the day before. It set off a happy flutter in Faye's heart, and she smiled to herself and hopped off the porch, kicking pebbles as she went.
Race, despite his warm, non-Brooklynite manner, was a very pleasant walking partner for Faye. He could see she did not like to talk much, at least not at first, so he filled the silence all the way to the Brooklyn Bridge.
"I'm a lucky guy, really, that's all there is to it," he said lightheartedly, lighting himself a cigarette. Without meaning to, Faye shot an expression of longing at it. Her hand-rolled cigarettes had fallen victim to the rain. Race immediately handed it to her and lit himself another. Embarrassed, but grateful, Faye nodded her head in thanks.
"I'm expectin' ya don't know nobody across this thing, huh?" Race asked, gesturing towards Manhattan. "You should meet my boys, they're good fellas." Faye let out an involuntary and sarcastic bark.
"Ah," he said wisely. "Now I get it. Not a fan of the man, huh? Well, m'lady, I'ma change your mind. I'm a good guy, really. Might be a l'il stupid, but I ain't a creep."
Despite herself, Faye let out a small smile. "An' what about the rest a' your guys? They perfect gennlemen too?"
"I dunno 'bout perfect," Race grinned, delighted she was finally talking, "but they sure is good family." Those words affected Faye, though she did not show it. She had intended to part ways with Race on the other side, but he was becoming very intruguing.
"Yeah?"
"Yep. An' people like us... Well. We know how important it is ta have that. Blood or not."
Faye nodded in agreement, but said no more. Racetrack was also quiet for a while, observing Faye as if she were a painted landscape. She was fascinating to him, really. He'd walked in on Spot Conlon looking at her like he'd never seen him look at anyone, let alone a girl. It almost seemed like the loner leader of Brooklyn might respect her. In fact, if Faye and Spot's looks weren't so different, he would have sworn they were related. He had never seen a girl carry herself the way she did; she was silent, strong, and a little... scary. Her strange beauty was intimidating enough, even without her personality and energy.
"So... Race," Faye said suddenly. "Tell me 'bout your family."
Race smiled. He happily divulged everything he could think of to her. It was so rare he met anyone that wanted to know anything about him. Everyone that cared already knew everything, and everyone else simply looked over his head. Race told her about Blink, and Mush, and Skittery. He told her about Jack and the Strike, the Delancey brothers, Les and David, and even divulged his dislike for Jack's on-and-off girlfriend, Sarah. He told her about Kloppman, surrogate father to all the boys. He told her about selling newspapers, and Medda, and sneaking into picture shows.
Faye tried to drink it all in, slightly overwhelmed. It sounded as if this "newsie" lifestyle allowed them some fun. Sure, it was rougher than being a normal kid with a family, but it seemed more structured, and reliable where they were. At least they had each other... and of course a roof and a bed, as long as they had a nickle.
"...So anyway," Race said, finishing a long-winded story about Kloppman. "He's great, ya know. Dunno what we'd do without him."
"Sounds nice," Faye smiled at him.
"It is," Race agreed, nodding his head casually. The wheels in his head were turning. What if?... no. She would never go for it. Besides, it was a known fact girls weren't allowed to stay in boys' lodging houses. The whole place would get shut down, and Kloppman would lose his job.
Faye was feeling quite relaxed now, enjoying the conversation and the weather, when a bellow from behind her made her jump.
"Oy! Watcha doin' out here, Pony Princess!"
Race cried out as a hand reached around his neck from what appeared to be nowhere, and threw him to the ground. A knee crushed his left hand painfully, pinching it against the cobblestone. Two hands grabbed his right arm, immobilizing it. For a moment all he saw was white sunlight, but then Oscar Delancey's face was so close to his, he could taste his breath-which was no treat.
"Ain't so strong an' brave widout your cowboy an' your pirate, are ya?" He snarled. "Well, tell Kelly I said hey, an' give 'im one a' these for me!" He raised his arm, clearly to give Race the shiner of his life. In his unprepared state Race could only brace himself. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth, leaving just enough space to curse the mother of both Delanceys. But to his surprise, the blow did not come. He opened his eyes, and discovered the most hilarious and shocking thing he had ever seen.
Faye's hands were grasped tightly around Oscar's arm, and were holding it back with ease. "What the hell ya think you're doin'?" She was yelling at him, quite unamused.
"Faye!" Race blurted out, flabbergasted. "He'll soak ya!" He jumped up to enter the fray. But Faye was deaf to his warnings.
"You ass," She growled at Oscar. "I ain't met no one wid good conversation in a long time, an' I ain't lettin' ya knock him out!"
Oscar snarled. "Get the hell offa me, ya lousy bit-"
Oscar did not have a chance to finish his sentence. In what looked like one fell swoop of smooth, liquid motion, Faye twisted Oscar's arm around, and sent him flying to the ground with a fierce kick to the stomach. She placed her bare foot on his chest. Race stood there in amazement, his arms limp at his sides and his mouth wide open.
"Name callin' is for people with the goods ta back it up," Faye hissed down at her victim. "You, on the other hand..." She looked down towards his abdomen with a smirk, "I don' think ya got the goods to back anything up... if ya know what I mean."
Race choked, then gave a nervous giggle, and then he cackled. As Oscar limped away, Race patted Faye on the back, laughing so hard he was starting to snort. Ohh, he couldn't wait to tell the boys about this.
Manhattan had swallowed them up, and for a sweet moment Faye forgot she was in foreign territory. Race was close to his neighborhood now, and was busy pointing out all of his regular joints and stoops. After a while, he changed the subject.
"Faye," he began in a low voice, "where the hell'd ya learn ta fight like that?"
"Brooklyn," she replied with a smirk.
Race shook his head. "Whatevah. You should get people ta pay ya for that, ya know. I can see the headline now: 'Tiny Mystery Girl From Brooklyn Fights Crime Across Manhattan.' Eh?" Race nudged her.
Faye rolled her eyes. "Yeah, sure. Just as soon as one a' my fella sisters runs for mayor."
Race chuckled. In the short couple of hours they'd spent together, he'd grown quite fond of Faye. He was sad to think he might never see her again.
"Hey," he said suddenly, "let's go grab lunch, huh? I'll buy. Payment for savin' me from one helluva black eye, huh?"
At first Faye thought to refuse, but then, why not? The entire day had been new and strange, why stop now?
"All right," she shrugged, and she turned and looked at him.
"Great," Race said, and the large smile he wore eased her a bit. He led her in the direction of Tibby's. This was all part of his grand plan, of course. It was just about the time when everyone would be there, so she would have to meet his friends. Maybe if she met more nice people she would stick around. Heck, maybe she'd even take a fancy to one of them; it was possible. For some reason, Race did not care if it wasn't him. It had been a while since he'd had a good kiss, but he already knew he wasn't her type. He wasn't sure if she was his type either.
When they reached the door of the restaurant, Race turned to her and grinned.
"Tibby's," he said, and without further explanation, he pushed the door open for her. Faye walked in, and to her great surprise, saw about twenty boys inhabiting the tables and booths around the room. None of them even noticed her entrance, but when Race stepped in beside her they all looked up. Curiosity and amusement was playing on every one of their faces. They all called out to Race to say hello, and Race waved casually to them, leading Faye over to a table in the corner, right next to a large window.
"Blink, Mush," Race said, grinning ear to ear at the sight of his eye-patched friend (though he was not sure why), "This is Faye." Blink was deeply immersed in his newspaper, and he looked up for just a fraction of a second, not even meeting her eyes. "Hey," he muttered, and he dived back into his article. Mush, on the other hand, stood rather clumsily.
"Hi," he said kindly, holding out his hand. "I'm Mush."
Faye bit her lip, shaking his hand. She had never been introduced by a handshake before.
"Faye," she repeated.
Race scooted into the booth, seating himself across from Mush, and Faye sat down next to him. Blink was across from her, and with one final look at his newspaper, he looked over at Race.
"Sorry," he said, downing his drink and then letting some ice cubes tumble into his mouth. "Sumthin' 'bout some family gettin' robbed 'round here... Wanted to see if I recognized the handy-work." He grinned then, and turned his attention to Faye. For the second time that day, a strange thing began to happen as she made eye contact with a stranger. She knew those eyes... Or actually, that eye. She felt as if she'd known him forever with just one look at his face, which was finally fully exposed, and staring right back at her.
Blink longed for a magnifying glass to study every feature of this girl's face. They had not even spoken, and yet, he loved her. Everything about her was familiar; even the small ring that was dangling on a chord around her neck was speaking to him. Had he dreamed something like this? Was this some strange occurrence of deja vu? He shook his head, and though he tried to speak plainly as he stretched out his hand, his voice came out soft, and slightly weak.
"Faye, I'm Blink."
She stretched her hand across the table in return, so caught up with the idea of touching him that she did not even realize it was a handshake. What the hell was going on today? Was life always so abrupt and dramatic in Manhattan?
Their hands met, and both of them grasped on tightly. This was so... odd.
Race watched the two of them, his eyebrows so high up on his forehead they were threatening to jump ship and join the hair on his scalp. He had never seen Blink react to a girl this way. And Faye, well... her mouth was nearly hanging open. He looked over at Mush, who was so amused with the scene that he had leaned back against the wall to watch.
Race took a long, noisy slurp from the bottom of Blink's cup, and it seemed to snap him out of his reverie. He pulled his hand away from Faye, and cleared his throat. Faye retracted her hand so quickly she nearly elbowed Race in the chest. She picked a menu up off the table and buried her nose in it.
"Well," said Race, a bit of swagger in his voice as he picked up another menu with a flourish of his hand, "Glad everyone knows each otha."
Mush let out a loud snort, and Blink threw him a glare that immediately sent him under the table, doing his best to look like he'd dropped something.
"Uh, hate to be rude," said Faye, beginning to feel like she would explode," but I gotta 'scuse myself for a mo... Race, could I bum a smoke?"
"Just smoke in here," Race said, scooting an ashtray across the table.
"Nah," Faye said, putting her most persuasive smile on, "I jus' wanna sit in the sun. I'll be back in. Get me a drink, won't ya?"
Puzzled at Faye's sudden willingness to not only speak, but ask for favors, Race handed over a cigarette. She smiled in thanks, and bolted from the table. As soon as Blink heard the tinkle of the little bell above the door, he leaned forward.
"Who is she?" He demanded.
"Ya know just's much as I do," Race shrugged. "Her name's Faye, she's from Brooklyn, and she was headed this way this mornin', so I walked wid 'er."
"That's a few more facts than I knew," Blink pointed out, annoyed. "Come on, help a buddy out."
Race was going to question him, but at the look on Blink's face, he changed his mind. He could give him hell later. Right now it looked like if Faye jumped off a cliff, Blink would follow her, shouting, "What did you say your name was agaaaaaiiiin...?"
"Alright! Really. I dunno nothin'. I came downstairs at the Brooklyn house an' her an' Conlon was havin' a starin' contest. Real weird. She asked me if she could walk with me." He paused, thinking back on the odd morning he had shared with her. "Oh! Ya gotta hear this. She had Oscar Delancey on his back, underneath her bare foot back past East River Park!"
Mush gave a whoop, and Race chuckled, sure he would relive that particular memory over and over until he died. Blink, however, had turned sheet-white, and snapped his head to stare at Faye through the window.
Faye lit her cigarette with her last match, then sat down on the edge of the walkway. What a stupid day. Her plan had been to get the hell out of Brooklyn, and everyone that meant anything to her at all. In fact, after her dream, she had planned on going straight to the trains, hopping in a car, and going wherever it took her. Yet for some reason she had come to eat with Race, and met this Blink. Something about his eyes, and lips... They were made of childhood, of innocent happiness, of the grass between her toes...
"Buy me last pape, lady?" Said a voice.
Faye turned her head to find a small boy who was barely taller than she was sitting down.
"I would, but I don' got no money," she said, almost apologetically. The boy scowled, and turned away, coughing.
"Les!"
The boy turned around, and his face was instantly alight with joy. "Cowboy!" He cried.
A tall, handsome young man was jogging toward him. "Les! How ya been, buddy?"
He picked him up for a moment, then put him back on his feet, messing his hair a bit. "I ain't see ya in a while."
"Pa barely lets me sell anymore now that Davey's at college," the boy explained, and Faye noticed all traces of his worker accent had evaporated. She raised her eyebrows, impressed. Not so bad for a little guy. He had certainly fooled her. The older boy that had been addressed as "Cowboy" looked up to see Faye staring at them. Faye expected him to look away, but instead he stepped forward.
"Hey," he said rather bluntly. "The name's Kelly." He grinned cockily, bowing slightly in her direction. "I realize my looks is always unexpected, but I ain't neva seen a doll stare at me so long before."
"Huh," Faye laughed slightly, flicking her cigarette away. She stood, clasping her hands behind her back. "I'm Faye."
"Pleased ta meet ya, Faye. This here is me good friend's l'il brother, Les."
Les squinted up at her, apparently not as impressed with her as Jack was. His look was scrutinizing, as if he was wondering why Jack was paying attention to her, and not him. Race's stories from the morning played through her head then, and a likely thought occurred to her.
"Your first name ain't Jack, is it? You Jack Kelly?"
Jack looked quite pleased with himself. "Why, yes it is. Already heard a' me, huh?"
"Don' flatter yaself too much. I been talkin' to your friend Race all mornin', he told me 'bout ya."
He shrugged. "Well, whateva. Still heard a' me, haven't ya?"
At that moment, the door to Tibby's flew open. Blink was standing with one foot inside, and one foot out on the pavement, his hand holding the door ajar. He looked as if at least one marble had popped loose.
"What the hell bit you?" Jack called to him. Blink did not respond. He walked over to Faye as if in a tunnel, grabbed her hand, and pulled her away.
"Come wid me," he whispered. Though the words were demanding, his voice was soft. Faye pulled her hand out of his, but walked with him.
"My bag..." she said, turning her head back towards Tibby's.
"Race's got it," said Blink. "Come on."
They walked in silence until they reached the harbor, and Blink sat down on a bench, gesturing for her to join him. She did as he asked, and straightened her back against the wood, staring out at the view before her. The seagulls were singing in the clouds, and there was a calming thunk... thunk... thunk... as the water hit the walls of the harbor. She looked down at her feet, afraid to look over at Blink. He must have felt the same way, or he would not have pulled her away like that. Who was he? Had he hurt her? How could she have forgotten someone that impacted her so strongly at first sight?
Blink stared over at Faye, entranced. If she was who he thought she was, and he couldn't see how she couldn't be, really... He'd never met anyone else with those bright green eyes, or the oddly black hair. Well, besides her sister, anyway. So, if it was her... Then he was the happiest man on earth as of this very moment. But why was she alone in Manhattan? What had happened to her over the years in his absence? He recognized her, but she was not at all the girl he remembered. He exhaled slowly, disturbed by the realization that she probably did not have any good news to share.
"Faye... Faye Jones?" He asked.
Her mouth opened in what was nearly a silent scream, and she turned to him slowly with bulging, scared eyes. "How the hell ya know my name?" She whispered.
Blink's jaw dropped. "It's really you," he muttered, so lost in his thoughts he didn't think to answer her. He turned his entire body towards her. He had never dreamed he would see her again. He found he could not speak now that his hopeful thoughts were confirmed. In an attempt to make things fair, he lifted his hand to his face, and flipped up his patch, revealing his other sparkling blue eye.
Faye tilted her head to the side, puzzled by this gesture. What was he trying to tell her...? But then a memory began to rustle like an animal sleeping in a pile of the leaves. It stood, and shook, and dusted itself off, before it began the long walk to the front of her mind. Slowly, the memories grew to their full height and filled with color. She was back in her wooden shack, but the neighborhood was full of life, and long summer days. She was screaming with glee on the tire swing as her father pushed her higher, and higher; she was letting James pull a splinter from her big toe; she was sitting on the dock with her sister, wishing her feet could reach the water like hers; she was under a large Sycamore tree at sunset, and little Charlie with the radiant blue eyes was pressing a copper ring into her hand. Faye gasped, and put both hands over the ring dangling on her neck, and then over her mouth. For a moment, she said nothing. But she could not hold in this joy.
"Charlie!" She cried. "Oh, Charlie! We thought you was dead, we thought... We thought ya died with them all..." Faye put her hands back over her mouth, unaware that they were shaking.
Blink knew he had to explain. It had been years, but he was certain if he didn't make things clear, she would be angry.
"I climbed out the window when the fire started," he said. "An' when my ma didn' come out... I ran. An' I never went back."
Raindrops were beginning to fall again; they landed on Faye's forehead and nose, but she did not move. She closed her eyes, her hand pressed to her lips. She would never forget that day. The screaming, the chaos, the destruction of her entire neighborhood in one factory fire. Her mother had not come out either. And neither had her father. Everyone had thought that her sister, Jane, and James's father, Abe, were the only two survivors; but here was the third, sitting before her.
It was almost too much to take. Just when she was sure the world had forgotten her, here was this strange day, these kind new people, and this beautiful, wonderful, old friend that had known her family... that only knew the Faye without a broken heart.
One raindrop was no longer seperate from another. The water was as expected: cold, and full of dying winter. Steam began to leave their mouths as they breathed, but still, they stayed put.
"C'mere," Blink whispered, and before she could protest, he pulled her over to him into a firm hug. At first it was comforting, but it didn't take long for Faye to feel a wailing beast ripping through her chest.
Not now, please, not now!
Her inner protests were useless. Thunder roared around them, covering Faye's gasps and cries in its din. She clung to Blink's shirt like a baby. If he let go, if she let go, the storm would suck her in and carry her away forever.
Blink was freezing, but he had never cared less. He was not sure why Faye was crying, but he did know there was nothing more important than holding her until it passed.
"You're okay," he said, over and over. "You're okay, Faye."
Faye let go of his shirt and wrapped her arms around him. His skin still smelled the same. The storm was heightening in its fury, filling the sky with flashes of lightning and the crashing of clouds. The storm inside Faye, however, was beginning to pass. She sighed, still crying, but not so hysterically. She pulled away from him just enough to look him in the eye.
Blink stared at her, a new feeling overtaking him. He had to kiss her. He knew he was crazy for doing it, but he lifted a hand to her cheek and pushed tears and rain away to the side. She did not protest, but looked right at him. Her eyes were so green, he could see them breathing, and growing... he placed his fingers under her jaw, pulling her towards him, and closed his eyes.
They kissed. Faye's lips were instantly on fire. His hands were under her chin, holding her head up so gently. Even sitting down, she could feel her knees going weak.
Lightning crashed again above them, and they jumped, looking up into the sky. It was still pouring, and until that moment neither of them had realized just how competely soaked they were.
"Come on," said Blink. He smiled, and stood, pulling her up with him. "Lemme take ya home."
"Ain't got one," Faye replied, too overwhelmed to be embarrassed by her homelessness.
He paused, but then shrugged and squeezed her hand. "Ya do now." He grinned, and began to run, playfully yanking on her arm as they sprinted through the empty streets.
"Come on," Mush whined, poking Blink's arm like a child. "Ya snagged 'er b'fore any a' us even got a chance ta sweet talk 'er. 'Least you can do is give us the details!"
They were sitting on Blink's bed in the bunk room. Jack was standing just before them, and Skittery and Race were sitting on the bed across from them. All of them were grinning, looking curiously at Blink.
Blink rolled his eyes. "Oh, poor Mush. First time in' livin' history he don't get the girl-QUIT POKIN' ME, YA BUM!"
Mush put his hands up in a form of surrender, then looked over to Race for support, but he just shrugged his shoulders when he caught Mush's expression.
"Don' look at me, I jus' brought 'er across the bridge," he chuckled, and he busied himself with lighting his cigar.
"Kloppy's lettin' 'er stay here?" Jack asked skeptically.
"He's gotta," Blink said seriously. "She ain't got nowhere ta go. 'Sides, she needs to have people 'round. I think she's been alone for a long time."
"Yeah, well," Skittery snorted, "Good luck throwin' that pitch ta the inspection board while they're bootin' Kloppy out the door."
"An' why would they do a thing like that?" Came an old man's voice.
Everyone jumped, and turned to the door. Kloppman was standing in the entrance to the bunkroom, looking tired, but amused.
"Blink, a word?"
Skittery threw Blink an apologetic look before he stood, and headed over to his bunk. Blink stood, and after taking a deep breath, he walked over to the man he had come to know very much as a father.
"What's goin' on, Kloppman?" He asked, allowing himself to be guided out the door and down the steps.
Kloppman smiled, but did not answer. "Join me in the kitchen, won't ya?"
"A' course."
This was a room hardly ventured into by the newsies. Blink imagined Kloppman knew this, and was using it for its likelihood of privacy. When he swung the door open, Blink was surprised to find Faye sitting on a stool by the counter, looking down at her feet.
"Found her outside on the porch," Kloppman said softly.
Another stool was beside it, clearly meant for Blink. Kloppman pulled himself onto the counter across from Faye, and looked up at Blink expectantly. Now feeling extremely nervous, Blink sat down next to Faye. She continued to stare at her feet, her face unreadable. He did not know how she was feeling, but he took her hand.
"Okay, Blink," Kloppman began. "B'lieve it'r not, I think I gotta grasp on what's goin' on here. This young lady clearly means a great deal to ya."
Blink nodded. Faye's cheeks turned slightly red.
"I think y'understand what could happen if I let her stay here. But-" He put up his finger, telling Blink not to interrupt. "I'm willin' ta try an' make it work. I jus' need ta know she understands what she's gonna have ta do."
Faye was as silent as ever. She was ashamed for causing such a fuss.
Blink could read the shame on her face, and felt responsible for it. She had clearly been taking care of herself for years, and probably felt as if she did not need their help at all.
"What's she need ta do?" He asked quickly.
Kloppman did not answer. He was looking over at Faye with a look that crossed between sympathy, and understanding.
"Faye," he said kindly. "Please look at me. I only wanna speak with ya. I asked Blink ta join us ta put ya at ease."
Though she did not want to, Faye raised her head, and met the old man's gaze. She knew he was kind, and trying to help, but he had no idea what this was doing to her. She just didn't fit in anywhere. This was not her home, as Blink had called it only hours before. It was his home. It was Race's home, Jack's home... She did not belong here.
"Listen to me, dear. I knows that look ya got in your eyes. Don't think for one second that if the laws were mine, I wouldn'a stamped your name on a bed upstairs already." He sighed, and slid down from the counter. He reached forward slowly, taking the hand that Blink was not holding.
"I jus' want ya ta understan', if ya live here, ya gotta live like a boy, think like a boy, dress like a boy... An' if the inspectors ever stink this place up, ya can't come back 'til they're gone. But listen." Kloppman got down on his knees, forcing Faye to stop looking away from him. "This is your home now, Faye. An' I'ma do my best ta keep ya safe."
Faye was so grateful for his kindness, she thought she might cry. She bit the sides of her cheeks, and nodded to show she understood him. Kloppman stood back up, patting her on the shoulder.
"An' when ya sign in, for the love a' God, don' write your name. We gotta think of a boy name for ya." He looked over at Blink, his eyebrows raised.
"We'll think a' one, Kloppy," said Blink, standing up. He took Faye's hand. "How 'bout we skip her signin' in tonight, huh? Off the record jus' this once?"
Kloppman smiled. "That'll do, Blink. Off ya go."
Faye stood, and exited with Blink, slightly dizzy. "Thanks," she said airily, but her words only hit the door that had already swung shut behind her. Blink kissed her cheek lightly, and smiled.
"He knows," he said, putting his arm around her. "Don' worry."
As they started up the stairs to the bunk room, Kloppman's voice came shouting through the door. "AN' NO SHARIN' BEDS!"
Faye collapsed into giggles, and Blink, relieved she was showing some signs of happiness, laughed with her.
Faye awoke with an unfamiliar feeling of a good night's sleep when Kloppman roused them the next morning. Still, it was early, and she was no morning person. In fact, before ten o'clock AM she was just plain foul. She grumbled, and pulled herself out of bed, dragging her heels to the washroom.
Jack yawned, lion-like, and watched Faye cross the room, her eyes brimming with sleep and foul temper. He grinned. It was very weird having a girl living with them, but he found he liked it so far. Sure, it was going to take some getting used to. Only last night most of the boys had either remembered she was there and excused themselves to the washroom, or had farted and belched in her presence only to turn bright red afterwards, bumbling apologies. He had been one of them, unfortunately. But Faye was a different breed of girl. First of all, rumor had it that she had flattened Oscar Delancey and insulted his manhood in one meeting. Not to mention she had wiped the poker table clean, and earned herself the name "Brooklyn" for the most fantastic poker-face any of them had ever seen. This was an especially prestigious honor, as the nick-name "Brooklyn" was usually reserved for Spot Conlon himself. To top off the evening, Kloppman had come up to the room and given them all a long-winded speech about the birds and the bees. Faye did not blush once, and afterwards, she teased the hell out of everyone that had. And though the boys had been doing their best to repress their noxious gases and fluids, Faye seemed supremely unconcerned with them. She was mellow, and low-maintenance, and was not intimidated or embarrassed by all of them strutting around with no shirts on, bragging of their newest girl conquests or talking about their latest fight. She seemed right at home.
No, the overall consensus Jack had gathered was that Faye was well liked. Her good looks didn't hurt, of course, but now that she was already Blink's girl it was basically law to never look at her that way again. She was one of them, a sister- And apparently a sister that could kick some ass, which was always a plus.
Jack entered the washroom and took the sink next to Faye. She had completely immersed her head in her sink, which she had filled to the brim with cold water. When she surfaced, Jack couldn't help himself. He grabbed a handful of shaving cream, and slapped it on her cheeks. Barely avoiding shaking with laughter, he handed her his razor. She took it, so irritated it didn't occur to her that she wouldn't be using it.
"What?" He asked, throwing his arms out as if her look of fury were ludicrous. "You'se one of us now, ain't ya?"
Race walked in just then, and at the sight of Faye looking like Father Christmas with intent to kill, he howled with laughter.
"Ya look stunning, doll," he hooted, walking over to a sink. "Ain't nuthin that can bring me down taday! Thanks, Brooklyn. Pass me dat towel, will ya?"
Faye narrowed her eyes and pelted Race with the damp towel. She slammed the razor down, making sure to glare at everyone in the room before she dunked her head under the water once again. Her face hidden for a moment inside the sink, she giggled, sending shaving cream bubbles to the surface.
"Thirty papes for my friend here," said Race, slamming money down on the counter of the distribution office. "An' fifty fer me."
Faye stood in Distribution Alley, dressed head to foot in mens' clothing. She was wearing Race's pants, Snipeshooter's shirt, Boots's undershirt, Dutchy's vest, a pair of suspenders Kloppman found in the linen closet, shoes from Bumlets, Mush's socks, Blink's coat, and Skittery's hat. It had been quite a kerfuffle that morning, what with clothes literally being thrown at her from every direction. She was quite amused by the fact that she somehow matched, and was touched by the out-pour of generosity they'd shown her... Although she did have to tell them all to stop looking at her so she could get dressed.
Blink had wanted to teach Faye how to sell papers, but Race had somehow won the battle. Faye was slightly relieved. Part of her wanted to be with Blink all day, but she was was still getting used to not only getting to know him again, but being his girl at the same time. It would be nice to have a break.
The papers were shoved through the window, and Race handed her the surprisingly heavy thirty papers.
"We'll get ya a bag ta hold 'em," said Race. "Can ya carry 'em fer now?"Faye nodded.
The two of them walked towards Race's selling spot.
"All right," he said, looking at her seriously. "Da first thing ya gotta learn," he paused, lighting his cigar, "Is hawkin' da headlines. Ya know what I'm talkin' 'bout?"
"Nope," Faye shook her head.
"Awright- what ya do is-" he opened the paper to find a good example. "Ah. Here we go. Now look at dis headline."
Faye bit her lip, embarrassed. She had not been sure how she was going to crack the news that she couldn't read a lick, but he had just made it easy. She felt her cheeks darkening, and a look of dawning comprehension crossed over Race's face.
"Oh," said Race, feeling extremely stupid. "Ya can't read, can ya?"
"Nah," said Faye, pulling a cigarette out of her braziere to distract herself.
Race cleared his throat, and hurried to light her cigarette for her. "Well dat's no big deal. Me an' da boys can teach ya real quick. But look. Dis headline says, "Mayor Thinking of Visiting Mexico". Now I don' know who da hell'd be interested in dat headline. So what we gotta do- is ya know, give it a li'l sumptin'- make it interestin'." Race thought for a minute.
"Mayor t'inkin' a leavin 'is wife! Found sumptin' more interestin' in Mexico!"
Faye stood aside and grinned as Race got a good group of buyers with his headline. He turned and smiled at her.
"An' da t'ing is, dey'd nevah buy it if ya didn' do dat. You'll learn ta get real good."
She nodded. "Right. Any certain place I gotta sell?"
Race shook his head. "Not really- jis' don' sell anywheah you've seen a newsie sellin'- ya might get inta a fight. Jis' find a empty corner. It should be fine."
"Mind if I come back when I'm done?"
"Not at all, my lady." He grinned at her, and she took her leave of him, heading down the walkway to find a spot she liked. "An' don' take off that hat!" He called after her.
Eventually Faye found a corner that she thought looked good, and started yelling out headlines- first using the one Race had made up for her. To her delight, she actually got a few buyers. A few people seemed to be wondering if she was a girl a boy, but most of them were not concerned with her long enough to figure it out. She thought she was doing quite well for her first day, but when she squinted at the foreign black and white symbols on the papers, she wished she had asked Race to tell her more headlines.
"Hey you."
Faye looked up. "Hey Jack."
"Ya havin' trouble readin'?"
"Yeah," Faye admitted, taken aback by his bluntness and her own honesty.
"Want me ta tell ya what da headlines are?"
"Sure," she nodded. "I already know the Mayor-Mexico one."
Jack smiled. "All right - here."
He read her all of the headlines he thought were workable. He turned to Faye, handing back her paper, watching her think. The one on her mind was "Abandoned Building Burned Down"- Jack had elaborated that a female cat had almost burned with it. She grinned once she'd thought of something, and yelled out her new headline.
"Female barely escapes life from inferno! Her home an' hundreds' a uthas gone wid' it!"
She got three more buyers. Jack looked at her in amusement. Yet another trick this mystery girl had up her sleeve: she was a natural newsie.
"Geez Faye, you'se gonna have me outta business." Faye laughed, and he hung around for a few more minutes before he headed off on his own again to continue selling.
Four hours later, Faye had no papers left. Pleased with herself, and the feeling of change in her pocket, she went looking for Race. Someone had even given her a quarter.
"Race!" she yelled, running over to him. He turned his head back to her, and grinned.
"You'se done already? Jiminy doll, you'se a natural."
She reached into her pocket, pulling out her quarter. "Lookie here, huh?" She grinned, waving it in his face. "I-got-a-quarter," she sing-songed, then shook her head, laughing at herself.
"Ha!" Race shook his head. "It figures. I teach 'er, and she gets paid better."
That night, Faye once again found herself strangely delighted by the company of the Manhattan boys. She entered the bunkroom, her face freshly washed, and sat down with Blink, Mush, and Race, who were sitting in a corner, smoking.
"How'd your first day as a newsie go?" Mush asked, passing her his cigarette.
"Pretty good," Faye said, shrugging her shoulders as Blink leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. She accepted the cigarette, took a killer of a hit, and passed it back.
"Got a l'il to learn, but I did alright." She peeled off Snipeshooter's shirt and put it around her shoulders. In normal circumstances she would not have dreamed that a room full of boys could handle her wearing only a sleeveless, low collar undershirt, but then, these boys did not seem to be normal. Even Blink didn't do a double take; he only smiled, pulled her to him, and kissed her again.
"Yeah, someone thought Brooklyn here made one helluva cute boy," said Race, feigning a scowl. "Gave 'er a flippin' quarter for a paper."
Blink laughed. The vibration in his chest was like the warmth of a fire to Faye, and she smiled, pressing her face against him. As she looked around the room, she could not suppress a feeling of outstanding luck. She recalled her childhood, remembering summer days that never ended until that strange time between dawn and dusk... when the lavender sky turned the world light blue, windows glowed orange in the houses of her neighborhood, and mothers came onto their porches to call their children inside. For the first time in years, Faye remembered what it was like to have somewhere to go when the sky darkened. She was inside now, basking in the warm, orange light, looking out at the world.