Disclaimer: I own Santa Fe… That's all. How sad is that?
My Old Friend
By: Chicago
I've never told anyone how I became a newsie. I was pretty young. 7 or 8 at the oldest. None of the newsies now were around at that point. Race came to the Lodging House just a few months after I did so he may remember some of the guys, but he was also a bit younger than me…
When my Pa was arrested I was bounced through a couple of his friends homes before I found myself on the street. It was late fall, so it wasn't freezing, but it certainly was warm either.
I had been sleeping in the same alley for about 3 days when a newsie, he was probably 15 or 16 by that point, approached me. "Call me Santa Fe." He said. He's the one who gave me my name. Took one look at my Mom's old bandana and piece of rope belt and said I was a little Cowboy. Not the name I would have chosen for myself, but not bad either.
I basically attached myself to Santa Fe for the first few months. I made other friends also, but never looked at them like I looked at Santa Fe. He taught me how to be a newsie and a man. Before I fell asleep each night he would tell me stories about his family, how they had wanted to move out to Santa Fe to be with his uncle, but died before they could earn the money. He figured that New York didn't want a poor boy like him going anywhere… That since he was born there he had to die there too. I don't know about that, but for him it's the way it worked out.
When one of the older boys said I wasn't cut out to be a newsie I got another lesson. "Never let 'em beat ya'." The next time I saw that boy he received a broken nose compliments of Francis Sullivan.
The last winter before Santa Fe died he started telling me stories about a boy named Jack Kelly who was a Cowboy in New Mexico. He made up the name and adventures, but all I could think about was being just like Jack from the stories. All I wanted was to be able to ride into the sunset after an adventure and know that as soon as the sun started to rise I would have another exciting path to follow. The last thing Santa Fe told me was the story where Jack meets a girl named Sarah who falls in love with him. Maybe that's why I took to David's sister so quickly.
Anyway, when I woke up the next morning one of the boys told me that Santa Fe was dead. He had died in his sleep from the illness that he had been hiding from me all winter. I can't remember ever crying so hard for so long. I decided at that point that I had to get out of New York and go to Santa Fe. That if I did I would be able to be with him again. It's also the reason that I used the name Jack Kelly when I started hiding from the refuge. A childhood dream. A failed aspiration.
Santa Fe was more than a friend to me. He saved me and gave me a place to stay when I had nowhere else to go. He shaped who I was and who I was going to be. He was my role model. My friend. But most importantly, he was my family.
'Santa Fe. My old friend. I can't spend my whole life fighting. You're the only light that's guiding me today.'
A.N. Wheeeee… My first finished and posted newsie fic. I thrive on feedback and would love your imput on how to make this better. If I get enough I may elaborate on the story. I have some ideas for a follow up, kind of a companion piece, but it's just a rough idea. *grins* Thanks for reading! Now, go press the magical review button like I do for so many of you…. If you do and are logged in I will go look at you things….
:Jack: Bribing your readers now, Chi?
You want me to write more about your past? I seem to remember a few highly amusing times which you would probably not want shared. Like that time when you tripped over the b-mmmph!
:Jack: *with his hand over her mouth* o.o I'll be good!
Good… See y'all laters!
