Disclaimer: I do not own anything recognizable from Newsies or Les Miserables!
Year 1899
My mother rushes into my little sisters room and scoops the baby into her arms saying soothing words. I sit in the library of our mansion and read a book I am working on for school, The Absent Student on Friday, a mystery book. I have been reading for an hour capturing every word. My mother comes in with my sister Karen. She seems frustrated about something.
"Anyia, can you please put your book down and go out into town and grab some more milk. I am afraid we have run low." I nod slightly and set the book down on the wooden polish coffee table. I go to the kitchen where our cook Mrs. Roberson is stirring something that smells delicious. I grab a basket off the table and head out the door. The day is a warm spring day, the grass as green as ever, the flowers in bloom, the smell a bit like honey and a dash of peppermint. The slight breeze makes my hair flow back. It's in a long blonde ponytail on the side of my head. I pass many people on my walk. Mrs. Flounders, a plump woman with brown short hair in a yellow hat, matching her yellow dress, is busy taking her small poodle on a stroll, a typical sort of thing to do in High Society.
"Anyia my darling! How are you? I haven't seen you in a while," a voice calls from behind me. I turn to see Lizzie Darswell, a skinny young girl my age, with a fancy puffy dress, a cream color with splashes of gold and brown all around, walks swiftly towards me waving her parasol in the air. I smile at her as she approaches, "It's nice to see you too. I am just on my way to the market place to get some milk for my sister." She smiles sweetly, "I do love your young sister, she is a joy for your family, isn't she? How's your mother?"
"She's been getting along. Ever since my father left, she's been much more protective, asking the gates men to make sure that there are no entries for people from," I pause and look around, "The Lower societys." I whisper. She nods her head, understanding what I say.
There are 3 different levels here in New York. High Society is for the, what others would call, rich, snobby, people. The next Level is Lower Society. Those are the people who aren't as rich as High Society, but can still pass by with food on the table. The last level is what they call Poverty. Those are the people with nothing. No food or money. The mayor makes sure that they have small houses to live in, but that is about it. They all despise the higher levels. To know who is who, the mayor had a huge gate that surrounds the whole High Society part of the city. Gates men guard it at all times so no Low Society or Poverty can get in and steal things. Every once in a while a person from Poverty or Low Society get in and steal things from houses. Another thing they split up is the markets; there is a market for High Society and a market for the other two levels.
"Well, I too am going to the market to buy a few things while my servants get ready for the mayor. He is coming to my home tonight for dinner you know?" she says making me look up in amazement. "You must feel very proud of yourself." I say. She smiles satisfied at what she hears then asks, "Mind if I join you?"
"Of course not." I reply. We walk together down the sideway enjoying everything around us. A carriage trots by and an old man, Mr. Meckler, waves at us. "Well, he's finally back. I'm afraid he's in for a shock. Last night someone broke into his house and stole his china from the cabinet!" Lizzie whispers as we walk away. I look at her astonished. "How terrible, the poor old man. His wife must have been terrified!" I say.
The market comes into view, the smells of fresh bread, honey, peppermint, spices, and other wonderful things filling our noses. I smile and walk to the dairy store while Lizzie Darswell leaves off to the bakery. A bell rings when I enter. Mr. Crochet looks up at me and smiles. "More milk for the little one?" he asks in a jolly voice. I nod and he walks into the back room. He is a plump old man, with striped pants and a plain white shirt with an apron over it. His head is bald except for the sides, which are a gray color. He comes back and hands me the carton. I take it and place it in my basket. "How much is it this time?" I ask grabbing my bag from the basket.
"I am afraid the price has hired to 89 cents a carton now." He says his voice sorrowful. I smile and say, "That's quite alright." I hand him the money and walk out. I walk swiftly, eyes set on getting home, when a police man bumps into me.
"I'm very sorry madam." He apologizes.
"That's quite alright," I say and try to walk past him, but he puts his arm in front of me. "Would you happen to know where the Lexington's live? I must speak with the Mistress of the place." I feel fear run through me. "Actually that's me. Well, my house. I'm Anyia Lexington. If you'd just follow me." he nods and I walk towards my house. People stare at me questioningly as we walk. A shiver runs through me. This couldn't be good. When a policeman wants to talk to you, they usually get thrown out of their home. That wouldn't happen to me, would it? I ask myself as we walk.
I remember the Wall family who got a letter from their father, saying he had been fired and fled. They had no other way of getting money and had been thrown down to Poverty. I shudder at such a thought. The policeman must just be checking in on us. That's all. I look ahead and see my house come into view. My home, the one I had lived in my entire life.
I walk up the steps, and open the door, letting the policeman in. He nods, thanking me. Mrs. Dodgson, our cleaner lady, is dusting a vase when we enter. She gasps quietly and whispers, "I'll go get Ms. Lexington."
"Thank you," I say and turn to the officer, "Would you like to sit down?"
"No, thank you. I am here on important business," he answers sharply. I take a slow step back.
"Officer Langton? You asked to speak with me?" My mother enters with Mrs. Dodgson holding Karen, close behind her. Officer Langton walks to my mother swiftly pulls a letter out of his pocket and hands it to her. My mother takes it gracefully and opens it. I watch her eyes scan over it, widening with every new line. Her gasp echo's in the silent hallway.
"This can't be right Officer. I, I just talked with him about this a few days ago. This can't be right. I, I don't believe this," her words all came out at once.
I talked to him about this? Talked to whom? About what? I thought staring from my mother to the officer, then back at her.
"Well, that's not what the letter says, is it? I'm afraid he wants you to leave immediately. He is taking over and will be sending someone here in a few days." The officer grabs my mother' arm and she begins to scream. Mrs. Dodgson quickly exits the room covering the baby and I run to my mother. I yank the officer's hand back, "Leave her alone! What are you doing?" I scream.
He turns to me and grabs both my arms, "This house isn't yours any longer Anyia Lexington. You are going to be charged for crime if you don't leave immediately. We will inform your servants, don't worry about that. Follow me." He yanks me forward and I cry out in pain.
"That was not a request. You will follow." My mother starts to sob and Mrs. Dodgson walks over to me and places the baby in my hands. The police lets go of my arm and turns toward the door and walks out where a carriage waits for us. My mother sobbing, and I holding the baby, follow him out. He opens the carriage door and motions us to get inside.
I look around and see people watching on the street, through their windows, and behind trees. We're leaving, and everyone is shocked. I never imagined this would happen to me. My mother steps into the carriage and puts her hands in her lap. I turn to have one last look at my home, the home that was no longer mine. Turning I step into the carriage and place my sister on my lap and the carriage door slams closed.
I look out the window and I see some of our servants watching. Mrs. Dodgson, Mr. Kleve, Samuel Tank, Lisa Marrow, and Matthew all stare at us. They walk forward with pillows and a few other small things and speak with the officer quietly. He nods and they open the door and set the things down on the ground. Without making eye contact, speaking, or anything, they all hurry towards the house. I hear the driver grab the reins and the carriage takes off down the street.
When we get to the gate I look back at High Society. Tears fill my eyes as I look at the familiar area. My eyes make contact with Travis Simmons, a dear friend of mine, the boy whom I hoped to marry someday, and I turn away and burst into tears as the carriage goes through the gate.