Manhattan, New York City

1901

"Dammit… who took the black thread from my machine?" Margaret demanded, eyeing down Jane and I.

"I don't know," Jane answered absent-mindedly, concentrating on finishing her puff sleeve.

"Norah!" Margaret whined.

"It wasn't me," I convinced her, "I'm using white."

We quickly shut up before "the warden", Mrs. Collins, walked over to us. We immediately looked down and pressed the pedals on our machines fast. After all, we might get compensated for cutting off a finger.

"Ladies, are we working?" She asked, her mustache becoming more and more visible each step she took closer to us.

"Yes, ma'am," we said in unison.

She paused before hovering over Jane's work. "Ms. Carmichael, what an exquisite puff sleeve!" Margaret and I looked over in disbelief that for the first time in her life, Mrs. Collins was giving out a compliment.

"You think so? I've been working on it since noon," Jane replied.

"Mm… since noon?" Mrs. Collins nodded, taking a closer look. "So it should be exquisite."

"She's a beast!" Jane exploded into her angry seamstress mode on our lunch break.

"She's not that bad," I sighed, opening my lunch pail.

"Honestly, the next paycheck I get I'm out of here," she said, probably meaning to think it instead of say it.

The rest of our lunch break was mostly uneventful – although we always had things to talk about. After all, we had been friends since we were little, and now that we had just finished school and we all were eighteen, we had all gotten jobs in the factory.

"Remember that boy you dated with the mole the size of a tomato?" Jane asked Margaret. She barely could finish the question without laughing, and I burst out laughing so hard that no one even heard me.

"Oh, shut up! You've had some bad ones, too," Margaret said. "Like Orville? That sounds like a noise my grandfather makes when he snores!" Jane was mildly offended, but we all agreed that his name was horrid.

"What was that newsboy's name you dated, Nor?" She asked curiously, not even scrunching up her nose while mentioning him.

"I thought this was a bad ex-boyfriend bash talk," I laughed.

"No, seriously, what was his name? I liked him. Well – despite the fact that he never bathed," she giggled.

"Skittery – I mean, James. James Clark."

"Yes, that's the one!" Jane exclaimed, like they had a secret about him.

"What? What about him?" I asked suspiciously.

"He asked us if we wanted to buy a paper on our way to work," Margaret smiled.

"Oh, well. It's probably better that I didn't see him," I replied, trying not to show any emotion.

"Are you alright?" Jane asked.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm just tired, that's all. Lucy kept my mother up all night with her crying."

Margaret shook her head. "Same with John. Well, he's two, but he had a horrible tantrum that seemed to go on for hours and hours!"

Suddenly we heard the bell ring, so we hurried back inside, and I tried as hard as I could not to think about Skittery.

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Manhattan Newsboys Lodging House

1899

I went up those steps that I had come to know so well, although this time I did not have my usual enthusiasm when I went upstairs. I was hoping that Skittery would be out playing poker so I didn't have to do this – not now. But when I saw the tall brunette standing there, leaning against his bedpost with that dirt-sprinkled pink shirt on, I knew I was going to be hated by the one boy I had ever loved.

"Norah, what're ya doin' heah?"

"I um… I have to talk to you," I said quickly, wanting to just get this entire thing over with.

"A'ight, shoot," he smiled. I hated how simple he seemed to make everything.

"My mother…" I whispered, not knowing how to tell him when I was so in love with him. Dammit! "I can't see you anymore."

Suddenly his content disposition disappeared, and slowly I watched his eyes start to water.

"What? I thought we – I thought we loved each other."

"Skittery… James… I'm so sorry. There's just… so much going on –"

"But we love each other," he argued, pushing the fact into my face. Yes, I am well aware that we love each other.

"I wish there was some way I could –"

Skittery quickly interrupted me. "D'ya love me or not?"

"It's not that simple…" I tried to tell him the whole story before one of us said something we didn't mean.

"Yeah it is, do ya love me or not?"

"Just slow down and let me talk!"

"No!" He hit the side of his bunk bed while he said it, causing me to flinch.

I could tell he was going to say it one more time. He spoke very slowly, separating every word like it was an easy thing to do. "Do you love me?"

I didn't know what to say. Of course I loved him. I loved him more than I had ever imagined I could ever love anyone, and everyone knew it. But I knew if I said yes, he'd make things so much harder.

"I – " I started to stutter, and then in a flash, I had to make up my mind. "No."

The look on his face was not angry. It was not surprised. It was a look of pure disappointment. My stomach plunged to the ground without any warning, and I had to bite my tongue so I wouldn't change my mind as I desperately wanted to do, but I couldn't.

And there I was, running out of the lodging house at full speed before I encountered anyone with my face full of tears. I kept running until I hit a neighborhood that I was completely unfamiliar with, and I suddenly stopped and put my hands on my knees. I started to heave in and out, and at the same time I was choking on my tears, but at this point, I was past the ability to be embarrassed. After all, I had just ruined the one thing that I lived for.

I barely slept that night. Every second I would start to think about anything else, my encounter with Skittery came into my mind, and I wanted to curse at myself a thousand times for even listening to my mother when she said he wasn't good enough for me, and I hated her for that. All I could do in that moment was sink into a deep silence with nothing but a wasted past.