A story about Sarah. Have at. ^_^
Love Interest
I think I first realized it a few months after the strike. And it scared me. I certainly couldn't tell my family; what if they threw me to the street? I could never live like a newsboy, without a solid roof over my head, not knowing if I would have food in my stomach at night.
But as much as it frightened me, I knew it was true...
By the time winter came, after the strike, Jack and I had been dating for a long while. Looking back, I knew we could never marry; Father would never approve of my marrying a man who couldn't provide for me, no matter how good a man he was. But, when the snow came down and everything was beautiful and perfect, it seemed like we would be together for the rest of our lives.
He was very romantic and sweet, told me all about his dreams of Santa Fe and how someday, he would put New York behind him and be a real cowboy, and I smiled and watched his eyes shine with hope and anticipation. I liked him. Of course I liked him, everyone did; he's smart, funny, strong, brave, and in the end he always does what's in his heart. He held me when we were alone, and he was warm, and reminded me of the way Papa would hold me when I was little. When he kissed me, it made me think of the time Davey and I got mixed up in a game of Spin-The-Bottle, but he was too shy to kiss any girl but me. It was nice.
I hadn't realized there was something missing.
I was on my way to Tibby's one afternoon for a "Newsboys Union" meeting. Nearly all the child labor groups in our area sent at least one representative to the Union meetings- "Once a month, every month, whether we need it or not-- like bath day," as Racetrack once put it- and keep updated on what was going on with the working-class youth. At first I hadn't wanted to go, but many of the younger newsies insisted that Big Sister Sarah come too, so I went.
New York is very pretty in wintertime, and I stopped to admire the snow drifting onto the benches and sidewalks, Christmas decorations on every street, and the sleigh rides in the park. As I came out of the narrow alleyway behind our building, I closed my eyes and took in the smell of the brisk cold, and I was interrupted by a voice.
"'Ey, missy. Git outta the way, youse blockin' traffic ova heah."
I turned, fuming; how dare some rude boy interrupt a lady in thought? "Young man, didn't your mother teach you any manners?"
"Who youse callin' young man, Little Miss Muffet?"
I realized I had to look up to see this person's face, and I was a bit shocked to realize that it was a girl. She had a long, brown overcoat with no buttons and a ragged-looking hat, suspenders and trousers that didn't properly fit, and the sort of white sleeveless shirt Papa wore under his work shirt. She glared at me with a dangerous edge in her eyes that made me rethink what I'd said. It rather reminded me of the DeLancy brothers, without the stupid ape look.
"E-excuse me... I didn't mean--" I was nervous and afraid, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from her and I didn't know why. She looked like she wanted to shove me, or hit me, or something, but I suppose the way I shook with cold and fear must have simply disgusted her. She cleared her throat and spat expertly, revoltingly on the sidewalk.
She sneered, "Look, just git outta my way, I gots a place ta be an youse holdin' me up. Some of us got real woik ta do an' we can't be spendin' all our time tiptoe'in t'rough da pravoibial tulips, so move it, Miss Prissy, before some'in bad happens to ya."
She shoved past me, nearly knocked me over with her shoulder on her way out of the alley. I heard her mutter something unsavory as she passed, and then something about wanting a cigarette. Once she was gone, I sank back against the brick to catch my breath, a new fear rising in my throat.
I'd never been so turned on in my life.
Love Interest
I think I first realized it a few months after the strike. And it scared me. I certainly couldn't tell my family; what if they threw me to the street? I could never live like a newsboy, without a solid roof over my head, not knowing if I would have food in my stomach at night.
But as much as it frightened me, I knew it was true...
By the time winter came, after the strike, Jack and I had been dating for a long while. Looking back, I knew we could never marry; Father would never approve of my marrying a man who couldn't provide for me, no matter how good a man he was. But, when the snow came down and everything was beautiful and perfect, it seemed like we would be together for the rest of our lives.
He was very romantic and sweet, told me all about his dreams of Santa Fe and how someday, he would put New York behind him and be a real cowboy, and I smiled and watched his eyes shine with hope and anticipation. I liked him. Of course I liked him, everyone did; he's smart, funny, strong, brave, and in the end he always does what's in his heart. He held me when we were alone, and he was warm, and reminded me of the way Papa would hold me when I was little. When he kissed me, it made me think of the time Davey and I got mixed up in a game of Spin-The-Bottle, but he was too shy to kiss any girl but me. It was nice.
I hadn't realized there was something missing.
I was on my way to Tibby's one afternoon for a "Newsboys Union" meeting. Nearly all the child labor groups in our area sent at least one representative to the Union meetings- "Once a month, every month, whether we need it or not-- like bath day," as Racetrack once put it- and keep updated on what was going on with the working-class youth. At first I hadn't wanted to go, but many of the younger newsies insisted that Big Sister Sarah come too, so I went.
New York is very pretty in wintertime, and I stopped to admire the snow drifting onto the benches and sidewalks, Christmas decorations on every street, and the sleigh rides in the park. As I came out of the narrow alleyway behind our building, I closed my eyes and took in the smell of the brisk cold, and I was interrupted by a voice.
"'Ey, missy. Git outta the way, youse blockin' traffic ova heah."
I turned, fuming; how dare some rude boy interrupt a lady in thought? "Young man, didn't your mother teach you any manners?"
"Who youse callin' young man, Little Miss Muffet?"
I realized I had to look up to see this person's face, and I was a bit shocked to realize that it was a girl. She had a long, brown overcoat with no buttons and a ragged-looking hat, suspenders and trousers that didn't properly fit, and the sort of white sleeveless shirt Papa wore under his work shirt. She glared at me with a dangerous edge in her eyes that made me rethink what I'd said. It rather reminded me of the DeLancy brothers, without the stupid ape look.
"E-excuse me... I didn't mean--" I was nervous and afraid, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from her and I didn't know why. She looked like she wanted to shove me, or hit me, or something, but I suppose the way I shook with cold and fear must have simply disgusted her. She cleared her throat and spat expertly, revoltingly on the sidewalk.
She sneered, "Look, just git outta my way, I gots a place ta be an youse holdin' me up. Some of us got real woik ta do an' we can't be spendin' all our time tiptoe'in t'rough da pravoibial tulips, so move it, Miss Prissy, before some'in bad happens to ya."
She shoved past me, nearly knocked me over with her shoulder on her way out of the alley. I heard her mutter something unsavory as she passed, and then something about wanting a cigarette. Once she was gone, I sank back against the brick to catch my breath, a new fear rising in my throat.
I'd never been so turned on in my life.