AN: In the summer of 2009, I published a story titled "Manhattan BackAlley." When I began writing fics again just recently, I reread the story and loved the characters but not the story line. So, I have set out to revamp it! When it's finished, it'll be a totally different story! Please, please review!
She had been crouched in the corner of this dark alley for far too long. Her bones ached from hours upon hours of being immobile. She could feel the bruises and open sores covering what felt like every inch of her body. Just as her eyelids began drifting shut, a boy crouched down in front of her. She tried to register what was happening but found herself unable to get past his dashing good looks.
"Heya, miss," he whispered, taking his hat off politely. He seemed gentle enough. All she needed was a good night's sleep and some food. "How much pain you in? On a scale from one to ten," he asked. A smirk danced on his lips and his words were laced with amusement. She looked up at him blankly. Was he really joking around? At a time like this? He chuckled lightly. "Sorry, sorry. Just trying to lighten the mood! Come with me to the lodge house. We'll set you up with a bunk, some food."
She nodded, her mouth watering at the idea of food. "I can't…I don't think I can…" she stammered helplessly.
He raised an eyebrow. "Walk?" he asked. She nodded. "It's alright. I'se can carry you." He slowly pulled her up from her crouched position and held her in his arms like a groom carries his bride.
"Where are we going," she asked suddenly, after they had walked nearly five blocks.
"To the newsboys lodge house, miss. That's where I live," he answered. She did not respond so he continued, "With a bunch of other newsies. We pay rent there for a bunk and a little food and then sell during the day. I'll fix you up real nice when we get there!" She nodded absently, wondering if it was safe to trust him. She figured she'd wait to meet the others before she decided that.
She figured the boy would drop her outside of the lodge house and that she would have to walk through to where he was going to help her clean up but he did not. He kept holding her in the same position until they were right next to the door. He cleared her throat and looked at the doorknob pointedly so she grasped the knob and pushed the door open. He carried her through the lobby, where nearly a dozen boys stopped their card game to watch them as Snoddy carried her up the stairs. They shouted out questions over each other so loudly, she could not hear any of them clearly. In response, Snoddy simply bellowed, "Leave me alone for once! Damn."
The boy did not put her down until they were in a large wash room. He placed her, clothes and all, into a small tin tub. He paused and looked down at her. "You need a bath," he said bluntly.
She nodded and began peeling off her clothes, until she was wearing nothing but a small cotton black bra and underwear set. She didn't like what she saw on her body: colorful bruises already forming, large cuts and gashes, and general filth. Snoddy had looked away and was avoiding looking in her direction. "Pump the water for me," she asked quietly. He nodded and began pumping, still focused in the opposite direction. Once the tub was filled, he busied himself looking around in a linen closet for a clean towel and some medication.
She watched him carefully, splashing the water on her face and shoulders. She spotted a bar of soap on the counter within arm's reach and washed her hair and body with it. 'Soap is soap,' she thought to herself with a shrug. After a few minutes, she called out softly, "Will you help me out?" She saw him hesitate for only a second before turning around, crossing the room, and offering her his hand. She used it to steady herself while slowly standing up and stepping out of the tub. Without warning, he grasped her by the hips and swiftly placed her on the counter. She gasped, surprised, and immediately saw the regret in his face. "Oh, no, no," she murmured. "That didn't upset me. I was just…surprised." She smiled brightly so he would believe her. She knew he did when he giggled and shrugged sweetly.
"This here is alcohol. I'm gonna put it on your cuts and it's gonna sting like hell," he told her matter-of-factly.
She rolled her eyes. "I know what alcohol is." He chuckled and put some on a washcloth, then proceeded to dap it on her wounds. She cried out loudly a number of times and whimpering and breathing heavily from the pain. "Snoddy," she whined, begging him to stop.
"All done! You're such a brave girl," he teased. She punched him in the shoulder lightly. He began covering her wounds with a thick, clear salve.
"You're good at this," she said, watching his fingertips address her cuts.
He shrugged. "I've gotten in a lot fights. So have all the other boys. Gotta keep cuts from getting infected… As for the bruises…" He trailed off and she waited for him to continue. After a long, silently moment he did. "Time will heal those." She nodded and he sat down on the counter next to her. "So…you're a newsgirl, right? You got a place to live?" She looked up at him, surprised he knew that. She purposely didn't dress like a typical newsgirl. It was better for business. The people of New York generally did not like the dirty streetrats that sold papers and she strived to be a diamond in the ruff. He chuckled at her reaction. "I noticed the ink stains on your fingers. And there were like 25 papes littering that alleyway."
She sighed. "Yeah, I'm a newsgirl. And, no, I've been living on the streets for a while. Well, not on the streets really. I'm squatting in a storage unit downtown. Came from Harlem a couple months back, didn't like the crowd at the newsgirls lodge. Phased myself outta there." She shrugged. He jumped off of the counter suddenly and held his hand out to her. "Where are we going," she asked, accepting his hand and sliding off the counter slowly. Her bones and skin still felt achy.
"It's time for you to meet the boys," he exclaimed, flashing her a toothy grin.