Hi! So I decided to republish an edited version of this story which before was in progress. Better now than never. Since I haven't updated in a while, hopefully there'll be a lot of new readers as well as old ones!! Thanks to IrishStorm, lilnewsie77, Eden, letsimagine42, Mickeygee, and does it really matter?, all of you were great support in the first four chapters!! I hope you're still out there!!
I really would like some feedback—criticism, thoughts, feelings…anything!! It would be much appreciated!
And most of all I hope you enjoy the story! You might have to be patient with it…but don't worry, it'll play out. I hope. :)
I don't own the newsies.
- . - . - . –
October, 1890.
. . .
"Oh dem golden slippers
Oh dem golden slippers
Golden slippers I'se goin' to wear
Because they look so neat
Oh dem golden slippers
Oh dem golden slippers
Golden slippers I'se goin' to wear
To walk the golden street."
I was skipping along the streets, singing to a song I knew of, "Oh, Dem Golden Slippers". I didn't know all of the words, but I knew the tune since my mother sang it sometimes. My mother has a pretty voice. At night, when she thinks I'm asleep, I hear her sing. Sometimes. Usually she's crying or fighting with Father.
Most nights, instead of sleep, I lie in bed, shivering constantly, partly because of the cold and partly because of their arguments. I hear things about money and class and food and homes; I never know if I'll wake up the next morning and have to pack the few things I have and leave with my parents. We've done it quite often.
Right now, we're in a tiny flat in an enormous tenement building. The walls are so thin I can hear through them, the ceilings aren't so strong so bits of plaster always fall, and there is no heat. It's freezing.
I have to hide the fact that I always get so cold from my parents, though. I'll always remember one night two years ago, when I was five, when I told my parents how cold I was. Then we were living above a saloon which was closed due to water problems. I was frozen. I only had one tattered blanket, and I couldn't stop my shivers. I was so frightened, and did the only thing I could think to do – go to my parents.
I'll always regret that. My parents looked at each other, and then at me, and even though I was young, I plainly saw in their eyes that I'd deeply annoyed and hurt them. I fought against my shivers as I began to back away, trying to get my body to stop shaking for the moment. Somehow I was able to, and told my parents never mind, I was alright now.
My parents never brought it up again and so I never did either.
Right now, it was late afternoon.
One of the most bizarre things had happened, right before I'd left. My mother had called me to her as my father sat reading a newspaper.
She knelt down to my level with a soft smile. She put her hands on my face. "I have a few things for you," she said.
Excitement swelled up inside me. Things? For me? We must be doing well! Making lots of money! And that was good because it meant we'd stay and I had some friends here.
She moved her hands from my face and pulled over a large cloth sack. She reached in and my anticipation grew.
She withdrew a pair of tall brown boots. I gasped. They were beautiful. I felt the outside and realized they'd probably not easily become soaked, unlike the ones I had now. I felt the inside and realized that my feet would be resting on clouds.
"Oh, thank you, mother," I'd said, my eyes on the beautiful boots.
"That's not it," she'd said.
She reached in again and this time she brought out thick leggings, much thicker and much smoother than the tattered ones I was currently wearing.
Before I could thank her again she brought out a thick brown woolen skirt. This would do much better than the thin strip of cloth sown together that I was now wearing. Next she brought out a beautiful gray coat that looked warm and buttoned up. Last she took out a pair of brown mittens and a brown scarf that I could wrap around my head and neck.
She was looking at me with the same soft smile and tears in her eyes. I decided to hug her, something that hadn't passed between us in a long time. It was stiff and awkward but still an embrace.
I raced to the backroom to put everything on – and the clothes immediately warmed my skin. When I came back out, my mother smiled and beckoned me back to her side.
"Freya," she said, in her low, sweet voice. "Your father and I'd like you to do something for us. You're a big girl now."
I nodded.
"In this sack," she said as she stood up and took the sack. "I'm going to put this necklace –" she held up a locket that I'd seen in her drawer a few times. "This knife -" she held up a small dagger kept in a sheath. "And this clip," she held up a beautiful hair clip.
"I'm also putting some bread and cheese, for you, when you get hungry," she said.
Excitement was rising inside me again. I was about to do something for my parents! Make them happy, pleased with me!
"Here you are," my mother said, coming to me and putting the sack over my shoulder. "We want you to sell them to a dealer. Go outside the building and take a right. Walk down four blocks and then take another right. Then, walk five blocks and take a left. Walk three blocks from there, take a right, and the dealer is down two blocks. Do you remember that?"
"Take a right, four blocks, another right, five blocks, a left, three blocks, and a right, two blocks," I repeated.
"Very good," my mother said, her eyes welling with tears as she tightened my coat. "You're a big girl now. You'll be fine."
"I'll be back quick as a flash, mother," I said, eager to get out there and do this.
I skipped for the door and put my hand on the handle.
"Freya," my father said. My eyes widened and I slowly turned. He never speaks to me. "Good luck."
I smiled at him. "Thanks, father."
Then I was out the door and down the stairs. I had to do this and do it well. My parents were counting on me.
I'd already taken a right, gone four blocks, taken another right, then walked five blocks, then a left, and I was currently making my way to the third block.
It was cold out and the wind was whistling through cracks. But only my face could feel the cold. My legs a bit, too, where the wind went up my skirt, but for the most part I felt fine.
I took the right and began a run. It was in only two blocks! It was a good thing my skirt only went to my knees. Otherwise I'd be tripping all over the place and having to walk.
I finally made it, out of breath. I looked around. I'd expected some kind of sign that said 'dealer', that I'd be able to identify by the D, L, and R. My mother taught me some letters. I don't know my vowels too well yet. A thought occurred to me and I smiled widely—maybe now that we're doing well I'll be able to go to school!
Directly in front of me was an old and small house. I decided to try it. I knocked, and after what seemed like an eternity, the door creaked open.
An old woman with patches of hair and huge wrinkles stared down at me. I swallowed my fear and cleared my throat.
"Are you the dealer?"
Her eyes narrowed and she slammed the door. She wasn't. I couldn't say I was all too disappointed.
I decided to try the house across the street – it was still two blocks down. I knocked on the door which was immediately opened.
There was a woman wearing hardly any clothes. I'd never seen that before, and it was odd to me. She must be cold.
I looked at her face. It was greatly painted. Her eyes were looking at me with disgust.
"You aint who I thought you was. Get off a my steps."
With that she too slammed the door and I was left in the cold.
I frowned as I walked slowly back down the steps and onto the street. I'd followed my mother's directions exactly.
I didn't know exactly where I was so I didn't want to wander around looking for the real dealer and get lost or make my parents worry. I'd have to go back and ask to hear the directions again, however humiliating that'd be. I didn't run or skip back, I trudged. I thought about how I'd disappointed my parents and myself.
After a while I made it back. I went slowly up the stairs, thinking about what I'd say. I stood outside my door for a minute before I decided to get it over with.
I pushed the door open and said, "Mother, father, I'm sorry, but –"
I halted. The room was completely dark. They must be in the back room.
I made my way through the dark towards the back. I knocked softly on the door, which wasn't even shut. It opened, and was completely dark as well. I ran back into the main room, desperation and anxiety beginning to well inside of me. I threw open the shutters, letting the little light of the dwindling day in.
The main room was empty. Completely empty. All our things gone. Not that we had much to begin with. Maybe this wasn't our apartment, maybe I'd gone into the wrong one.
I went into the back room, holding the door open so that the little light from the main room could get in.
It was our apartment. For my blanket, the tattered one that I've always had, was there.
It's alright, I told myself. They probably didn't expect you back this early.
I curled up on the floor in all of my clothes and with the sack and blanket. And I drifted off to sleep.
- . - . –