Seven-year-old Malachy Molloy realized, after a moment, why he had awakened at such an uncharacteristic hour. He caught the faint sound of his baby sister, Annie, crying in her crib in his parents' room. Placing his feet on the floor, he padded softly into the other bedroom, spotting baby Annie sitting in her crib, crying her eyes out. He lifted the toddler from her crib and she laughed, grabbing handfulls of his hair. Wincing, he tried to sit her down on their parents' bed and free his hair from her hands at the same time. When he was finally out of her grasp, he changed her diaper and put the dirty one in a basin of water to soak. Then, he carried her into the kitchen and sat her down while he made a small breakfast of bread, butter, and milk.
His parents had left early for town; they didn't expect to return until sundown or later. So this morning, Malachy was man of the house. He took pride in this, for he had never been allowed to stay home alone before.
The Molloy farm in northeastern Pennsylvania was in a somewhat secluded area, so Malachy's parents felt at ease with letting him stay home with Annie and his other two siblings: brothers Alexander, age five, and Tobias (affectionately referred to as Toby), age three.
Toby came wandering into the kitchen, still halfway asleep and bumping into everything. Alexander soon followed, stretching and grumbling about how he never got to sleep late because of Annie's crying.
"Sit down, I'm making breakfast," Malachy told them.
The boys obeyed, too sleepy to argue with their older brother. After a moment, Malachy set before them small plates boasting buttered biscuits. He gave them each a small glass of milk and served himself as well. Two-year-old Annie cried for her breakfast also, so Malachy crumbled a biscuit and mixed it with milk, forming a kind of mush which would be easier for the baby to eat. He fed her, and when he was through, ate his own breakfast.
"What are we going to do today?" Alexander asked.
Malachy shrugged. "Ma and Pop don't want us getting into any trouble, so I guess we'll just stay inside."
"Let's go swimming!" Toby exclaimed.
"No," Malachy replied. "Ma would wring my neck."
"No she wouldn't," Alexander argued. "We won't get hurt."
Malachy sat there for a minute. It was two against one. He wanted desperately to give in to his brothers, for it was hot and stuffy in the house, but he was afraid of what Ma and Pop would do to him if they found out. Suddenly, he reached a compromise.
"Say, why don't we just go fishing?" he asked.
No answer. Toby made a face, but Alexander finally nodded. "Okay."
This convinced Toby, and he nodded his head excitedly, grinning from ear to ear. Annie clapped her hands and squealed, "Fis! Fis!"
The boys laughed at Annie, and Malachy picked her up. "Let's get our clothes on," he said, "and we'll go fish in the pond for a little while."
When they were all ready, they went out to the barn to find sticks, string, and hooks to fish with. After that was done, they headed down to the pond.
Sitting down leisurely at the bank of the pond, Malachy cast his line and watched as his brothers mimiced his action. Malachy watched Annie closely as she chased a butterfly on the bank. "Be careful, Annie," he told her as she squealed and laughed at the Monarch butterfly as it circled around her head.
Toby laughed as he tugged his line in. "I got one!"
Grinning, Malachy helped him get the fish off the hook and threw it back into the pond. The boys caught several more fish until they ran out of bait. "C'mon, let's go back inside," Malachy told them.
Alexander and Toby strongly opposed this suggestion. "Get more bait!" Alexander insisted.
After a moment Malachy sighed. He couldn't bribe them to come indoors because he didn't have anything to bribe them with. So, he answered, "Fine, I'll go up to the house and get more bread. Annie," he said, taking her and sitting her down in the grass by her brothers, "Stay put." Then, turning to the boys, said, "You two watch Annie."
She grinned up at him and he had to smile and ruffle her golden curls before turning and heading up to the house.
Once inside, he grabbed a loaf of bread and was about to go out the door when he spotted movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked down toward it and saw that it was a mouse, looking up at him from under the table.
Heaving a sigh, Malachy found the broom and it took a good ten minutes to chase the mouse outside. He then picked up the bread and made his way outside and back down to the pond. There he saw something that would change his life forever.
Annie was in the pond, floating face-down. Alexander and Toby were only sitting there, looking. Dropping the bread, Malachy raced down the bank and into the pond, gathering the baby up in his arms. "What happened?"
Toby answered, "Annie fell in."
"I told you to watch her!" Malachy cried, trying to revive the baby any way he could.
Toby's lip trembled as he replied, "We did watch her, Machy."
Malachy called her name, shook her, rubbed her back, did everything he could think of doing, and she still didn't stir. Tears filled his eyes and rolled down his cheeks and all he could think was, "I should never have left."
Silently, he carried the baby up to the house, his brothers following. Malachy had only attended one funeral his entire life, but he lay the baby down on his parents' bed and folded her small hands over her chest like he had seen his grandfather lying.
Malachy sat by his sister's bedside until that night, when his parents arrived home.
"Malachy?" he heard his mother call.
He ran to her, throwing his arms around her and crying, "I didn't mean to, Ma! I didn't mean to!"
The following events came in a blur to Malachy. A funeral was held the next day, and all he could think was, "I killed her. It was my fault."
Weeks passed. Every night he couldn't sleep, and every night he heard his mother cry. Silent tears rolled down his cheeks one night as he decided that he could no longer stay. The pain was too great, and all he could ever think of was his sister.
Silently, he packed a few provisions in a burlap sack. Creeping downstairs, he slipped out the front door, never to return.
That night, Malachy made his way to the train station. Noting that there was no one around at such a late hour, he crept up to the tracks and made his way down to a boxcar whose door had been left open. Tossing his bag through the doorway, he hoisted himself up and crawled into a back corner of the car, curling up in some hay that was strewn haphazardly around the floor. Sleep found him quickly despite the late-night chill and the hard metal floor of the boxcar.
Malachy awoke the next morning to yells of railroad workers. In a panic, he covered himself with hay, flattening himself against the floor and praying that no one found him. Several hours passed, and during that time he heard cargo being loaded onto the car. At one point he feared that he would actually be crushed by some of the crates that were being moved to his side of the car. Fortunately, the workers didn't check to see why one of the crates wouldn't slide all the way to the wall - the reason being that Malachy was between the two - but they just overlooked that small detail and continued loading. Soon, he heard the joyful sound of metal on metal as the workers wrenched the boxcar door shut, and he attempted to sit up. However, the crate that was holding him against the wall wouldn't budge. Groaning, Malachy closed his eyes and propped his head on his arm; this was going to be a long trip.
For the first few hours, Malachy drifted in and out of sleep. He hadn't slept well in so long that it seemed just as well he did it in the boxcar - he couldn't move anyway. But when those hours had passed, he grew restless and his mind began wandering back home. He already missed his family. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he thought of his mother, his father, his brothers...and his sister. The thought of Annie's smiling face, her golden curls, the way she used to laugh at him when he made faces at her, made him cry all the more. Malachy could hardly bear it as he lay there on the cold floor of the boxcar, and after a while he cried himself to sleep.
Malachy was awakened by the sudden lurch of the train coming to a stop. After a moment, the door to his boxcar was wrenched open and men began unloading the cargo which was packed in with him. Suddenly, he began to wonder what would be done to him if he was discovered, which he surely would be. Would they send him back home? Would they take him to the police? His mind raced with thoughts such as these as the workers got closer and closer to him. Then, the crate that had pinned him against the wall was removed.
Malachy covered his head, frightened at what might happen. He heard a male voice.
"Mack. Hey, Mack, come look at this. It's a kid."
"He alive?"
Malachy felt the man's boot dig into his side and yelped, looking up at the two men with sheer terror in his eyes.
"Yeah, he's alive. Hey, kid, whatcha doin', stowin' away on a train to New Yawk?" the first man asked.
Malachy's eyes widened. New York? He didn't answer the man, only grabbed his bag, jumped up, and fled the boxcar.
"Hey, kid! Come back here!"
Malachy tried to run faster, but his stiff joints from the train ride prevented him from doing so, and the two workers caught up to him. The first, who was tall and gangly, with brown eyes and red hair, took him by the arm. The other man, who had brown hair and blue eyes, stood by, watching.
"We ain't gonna hurt ya. I'm Joe, and this here's Mack. What's ya name, kid?"
"Malachy," he answered in a hoarse, terrified whisper.
"Malachy, you gonna tell us why you stowed away on that train?" Joe asked.
Malachy set his jaw and shook his head, willing the tears that filled his eyes to go away.
"All right, then. Well, as long as you're here, I guess you oughta have somewhere's to stay," Joe said. "So, let me tell ya what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna take ya to the place I lived when I was a kid: the newsboys' lodging house over there on Duane Street. Fair deal?"
Mack, seeing that he'd be no help to Joe, tipped his hat to Malachy and turned, walking away.
Malachy thought for a moment, and then nodded. "All right."
Joe grinned. "C'mon kid. Kloppman, the guy who runs the joint, is a real nice fella. He'll take good care of ya, and you'll make a lot of new friends there."
The possibility of making friends made Malachy brighten. Back in Pennsylvania, he'd never had many friends because he lived so far away from town.
Joe talked the whole way to the lodging house. When they finally reached it, Joe opened the door and led Malachy inside.
An elderly man was sitting behind a desk, looking through a big book. Joe cleared his throat and Kloppman looked up and grinned. "Long time no see, Joe."
"Yeah," he answered, "been workin'. I picked up a new kid for ya, though."
"That so?" Kloppman asked, standing to look over the counter at Malachy. "What's ya name, kid?"
"Malachy Molloy."
"Never had a kid named Malachy before..." Kloppman mumbled to himself.
Malachy grinned. Joe tipped his hat to the two. "Well, Klop, I'll be seein' ya. Gotta get back to work. Take care, Malachy." He winked and slipped out the door.
Kloppman went on to tell Malachy the rules of the lodging house and what he would be doing.
"Selling newspapers?" Malachy asked in wonder.
"Yep," Kloppman answered.
"I don't have any money to pay my first night."
Kloppman made a face. "Eh, it's on me. But just this once, ya hear?"
Malachy grinned. "Yessir, I hear."
