Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, but the storyline, on the other hand, …that's all my handiwork.
"Papers!" Shouted a thin, chestnut-haired teen that had trouble looking over crowds of older men twice his height, "Get your papers here!"
He continued shouting that mantra throughout the next few hours of the busy early morning, his own voice still soft from the early morning. No one questioned his tone of voice for people rushing to get to work, others pushing through to catch the train, and others just thought he hadn't entered puberty yet.
It was all pure luck. He had found the perfect spot to sell his papers next to an empty bench that was a few feet away from the buzzing entrance and all the shops that had begun to open. But, that popular tobacco smoke shop behind him made the spot all the better to sell papers to the male population who could afford it.
One particular man, of said demographic, strutted with towards the boy sparring him a quick glance of unworthiness. His gravity-defying mustache that curled at the end twitched as he demanded a single, pristine paper. Then quickly exchanging the commodity for a nickel before coiling back as if burned; it was undeniably rude, yes, but it was business.
It's what brought the food to the table. What kept him from starving.
After a sigh from the lanky chestnut teen, he looked back to the audaciously insolent man who had walked into the smoke shop as if he owned the place with the world at his feet. He was greeted with politeness the child has never been graced with before, with hospitality that he longed for. A longing to be so rich that he didn't have to worry about the how and what of the next meal on the dinner table.
That thought was quickly cut short from the blaring horn on the departing train. The voice of another child selling papers for a competing newsstand brought him back to the game of competition and away from daydreams. There was no time to waste in the present.
No, he corrected himself with the mentality of an adult, there was never time to waste on such frivolous ideas for if he wanted to be rich, then he had to work hard. There was no other way; money didn't just fall from the sky or grow on trees.
"Excuse me," a timid little boy, probably around five years old with dirt covering his face and tattered overalls hanging over his scrawny bone-looking shoulders approached, "Will you trade a paper for a marble? My pa lost his job…but it's his birthday and I don't have money to buy him a proper gift."
He opened his pale palm, revealing the shiniest marble he had ever laid eyes on. It had swirls of blue, green, and orange. But the emerald green caught his eye the most, it looked like a real jewel and stood out above all the other colors.
Snapping out of the trance, he blinked twice before looking down at a paper in his own hand. A frown covered his features knowing he couldn't trade it no matter how beautiful and enticing the marble may have been, "Sorry lad, I can't. If I don't properly sell the papers, the other boys will rat me out and then I won't get paid. But, tell you what…there's a shop two houses down that collects marbles. They might offer you good money for a beauty like that."
The little boy's face lit up; his blue eyes glimmered with hope as he nodded in thanks and quickly left like the wind. A faint twinkling sound of an instrument played as he watched the little boy disappear into the throngs of people until it stopped altogether. That sweet bell-like sound had seemed to radiate from the boy and he thought it was just a trick of his ear for doing the right thing and helping another poor child out.
Then a boom of a horn signaled the noon train had just arrived, letting all the newspaper boys that it was rush hour time and that they'd have to move like machines to successfully sell their stack of the day.
Hours passed until it was five past one. Three papers were left; one under his arm and the other two on the floor next to his feet. Desperately looking around to rid of these papers, he shouted his mantra one last time but the area was almost empty. Few people roamed, the streets and the smoke shop was closed for lunch making this the worst spot in the afternoon.
The teen scowled while his forearm wiped his sweaty forehead; the sun taking pleasure in making him sticky with perspiration.
"Are you selling papers boy or just standing there like a post?" A rounded-belly man, resembling a young Saint Nicolas with a brown bowling hat and bushy brunette beard, yelled before giving a hearty laugh. "If you doze off like that my boy, you'll lose customers!"
"Y-Yes," the teen cleared his throat to regain his composure from being caught off guard, "Yes sir."
The older man just laughed and tucked his hands in his trousers' pockets before producing a few coins, "I'll take the last three papers for my colleges and me."
"Yes sir," the boy repeated carefully handing the man the remaining papers and received exactly fifteen cents, "Thank you, sir."
With a nod of his head and a tipping of his hat, the man laughed again before handing the teen another coin, "A penny for your thoughts."
As he walked away, the teen dumbfoundedly starring at the free penny in his hand. Truth be told, he was astonished, he just couldn't believe a person would hand out money to strangers as if it were cheap candy.
"Sold all your stack boy?" The gruff man asked as he scratched his balding head and the teen insecurely tugged on his own cap to make sure it hadn't accidentally fallen off.
"Yes," responded the boy, quite proud of that fact. If he had even one paper left, he'd be scolded and get less money for completing his task. Luckily, that had not happened, "Not one left."
The man grumbled under his breath, "Good. You know the rules. Fifty cents of profit are mine and if I find out you lied you won't be working here anymore, you hear boy?"
He nodded, handing over ten nickels, got his journal stamped by the man, and quickly left with a relief. That odd man always put him on edge and he turned a corner to leave the unpleasant place behind. A smug smile graced his features from the day's events as the reminder of the coins jingled in his pocket whenever he moved. Two dollars and a penny. He had made two dollars and a penny today and it felt good to finally reap the rewards.
"James, darling!" a shrill voice of a girl erupted from behind him. He turned to glance at her, and that had been his demise, she had caught up to him and strappingly latched her arm onto his. "Darling I've missed you."
Her baby blue dress bounced as she pouted and skipped alongside his pace. Her blonde curls annoyingly tickling his bare arm, "Go away Marie."
"But, Jamesie, my darling!" He rolled his eyes at her ironic nickname as she whined. She was a spoiled rich girl whose daddy worked for the bank; meaning that anything his little princess wanted, she got. "My daddy say's I can spend time with a man who's worth it."
"Your daddy will kill you if he sees you hanging out with a street rat like me Marie. It'd be in both our best interest if you'd just leave," he said with a frown and managed to get out of her vice-like grip. Being freed, he ran down another alleyway that she wouldn't dare have the guts to chase him down, "Forget about me, Marie. Trust me, one day it'll be like I was never even born."
His shouted response bounced off the stone bricks as she frustratingly stomped her feet before turning around to go back home. He chuckled – no, she chuckled as she removed her blasted cap and her chestnut hair cascaded down now that she was out of view.
"Jamesie," snickered a boy who had surprisingly slipped her detection and trailed her down the alleyway. She should have seen him coming considering he was taller than her as he reached her side, "Poor Marie if only she knew James was actually Jane Darling."
"Oh, shut it, Alfie," Jane thwarted, "It's not like I asked for her pompous attention. I'd be more than grateful if you were to win her heart sooner rather than later; it's not like it's a secret that you like her anyways."
Alfie blushed, not knowing what to wittily respond with and only managed to come up with, "Hey! I was the one who helped you get this job, you should at least give me some credit."
"Your right Alfie, I apologize for my ungrateful attitude," Jane sarcastically said with a wide grin that won over Alfie.
"You're getting better at becoming a rascal like myself Jane," he said with a chuckle as he placed an arm around her shoulders, "You sure you're a girl?"
"Oh Alfie, wouldn't you like to know. So, how much did you manage to cash in today?" Jane casually said pushing his arm off as they passed the dark alleyway together as the sunset.
"I managed to sell all my fifty papers, so two dollars," he said stretching his back as it cracked, it had been a long day for both of them under the harsh sun of the city that would cover over with smog from buildings every now and then, "What about you Jane?"
"Same," sighed the girl as a comfortable silence grazed them.
"I think I'm going to enlist in the war…" mumbled Alfie, but Jane caught his words and froze on the spot.
"What? Are you crazy Alfie? You're only seventeen; a year older than myself!" Jane said holding onto his hand to stop him from walking away from her, "W-Why?"
"There's nothing for me here Jane. I've got no family, at least you've got the girls." He seriously spoke, that was very unlike his usual playful attitude, meaning he was truly dead serious, "Besides if I make it through the war then I'd get benefits like wages. I'd be somebody then and I could marry Marie with her father's approval."
"You really thought this through," Jane concluded with a sincere smile as she let go of his hand, and looked sadly at the ground, "I'd miss you, Alfie."
"I would too." He said before digging in his pocket and producing a silver thimble, "This was the last thing my grandmother gave me before she passed away." He placed it in Janes' hand, closing her palm and held it close to his chest while she stared wide-eyed, "It's a kiss. Promise you'll keep it and remember me."
"I-I promise Alfie," Jane said feeling tears trail down her cheeks, this was a grown-up moment that she felt she was too young to have. A child shouldn't be concerning themselves if their friend would survive the war. "I promise."
"Good," he said lightly punching her shoulder to rid the emotional moment and placed his shoulder once again over her before steering her to walk. He noticed that she was tightly clenching the thimble and made no move to push his arm off again.
"Alfie, promise me something…" Jane managed to say once they reached their first stop in front of an all-girls group home. "Please."
Alfie looked down at his fidgeting best friend as she avoided to look him in the eyes, he just couldn't help himself from teasing her which could have possibly been the last time, "Only if you look me in the eyes, Jane. It's funny how shy you can get after your first kiss."
"Shut up!" Jane said breaking out of her sad demeanor and regaining that fierceness that had convinced her to dress as a boy to help her friends, "Dammit Alfie I was really trying to be sincere there."
"Okay, okay," he said laughing with his hands held up in surrender, "Now what's that about a promise Jane? You can't keep me hanging on curiosity like that."
"Promise me you don't forget about me," she said producing a picture of herself that her caregiver had managed to take of her for her sixteenth birthday. She pulled out a pen too and wrote the words her mother would often whisper when she tucked her in at night years ago, and handed to him, "Take this."
Alfie took the photograph as he promised he would never part with it. He then watched her safely enter the group-home she resided in before turning the picture to see what she had penned. He smiled as he read,
Believe in the stars and the moon,
For that in the still of night where demons bloom,
A rustle in the wind may change the tide
And it'll take you on a wild ride,
Far from the haunting wind and shadows,
Away from the foes,
Back to when the days were long,
In my arms where you belong.
Your darling, Jane