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Iced Over, Part 1
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"Morris. As in, Delancy." It wasn't a question. It was a statement. Martie stared open-mouthed at her friend, Anita, who was blushing and nodding. "But, but he... I mean, Morris! He, well, I mean... just, he looks like an ape!"
"Well, yeah,but," Anita grinned, "he's so sweet!"
"Yeah, sweet like the blood from a busted lip." Martie shook her head. "I don't think I can. Sorry, but..."
"Oh, come on! I can't go to the center alone! It's almost halfway across the city. And it's cold, what if I get lost?"
"How could you get lost? We go there every day!"
"And... I'm nervous to go alone. Please, America's a lot different from England."
"Ah... fine. But you... you owe me big time..."
"Oh!!! Thank you, thank you, thank you!!" Anita ran over and threw her arms around Martie. "You're the best friend I could have!"
"Yeah. I know." Martie moved over to her bunk and grabbed her coat. She, like most of the other newsies, had gotten warm clothes from the St. Vincent de Paul Society. The coat had obviously once been very nice, but by the time it got to Martie, it was stretched out in several places and had a few moth holes. But Martie had patched up the holes, and now the coat provided warmth against the brutal January in New York.
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As Martie and Anita walked toward the center later that day, neither girl noticed the sky growing darker or the wind blowing harder. They laughed as they walked, huddled against the cold that stung their cheeks and burned their lungs.
They got to the center and Anita rapped quickly on the door. Morris almost immediately opened it and pulled Anita in by the hands. He smiled shyly at her, then awkwardly kissed her cheek. Oscar appeared behind his brother and rolled his eyes at Martie.
The four walked inside, where it was no warmer than out side, but in the sitting room, a fire was crackling happily. Morris pulled two mismatched chairs toward the fire; Oscar mirrored his brother's actions silently.
"So," Morris gazed at Anita. "What've you been up to?"
"Nothing, really. Selling my papers, staying alive. Trying to keep from freezing to death." Anita laughed gently, and Morris hyucked along with her.
Martie smiled uncomfortably, but her eyes flicked from Morris to Anita, again and again. She could figure out why Morris liked Anita. She was very pretty and sweet to boot. Her light brown hair curled gently around her face, loosely at the ends. Her skin was never tan, and never pale, just always very rosy and soft looking. Anita wasn't fat, nor was she skinny. She was round, but smooth and soft. Her eyes were dark brown and very welcoming. That was Anita, soft and smooth like a comfortable painting where the edges are blurred and sleepy. As to why Anita liked Morris, Martie didn't know. He needed a shave and a haircut, not to mention a good long bath.
"So, sweet cheeks," Oscar smirked, "what brings you here?"
"Your incredibly handsome face, Os." Martie rolled her eyes. "Anita asked me to come wit her, and she wouldn't take no for an answer."
"Sure, that's it." Oscar winked at Martie and put a cigarette in his mouth.
Martie sighed and pulled her coat closer around her. It was going to be a long visit.
"So, Anita," Morris stood up. "Could I see you tomorrow, after you sell your papes?"
"Of course you can, Morris. Where do you want to go?" Anita gazed up at Morris. Martie felt like she was going to gag.
"Anywhere with you is fine."
"Well," said Oscar, "You two had better get goin'. Don't wanna be late gettin' back, do ya?" He opened the door for the two girls. It would've been a polite gesture, had he not been almost shoving them out.
Martie gasped at the same time as Anita said, "Oh my..."
The entire courtyard was white. Snow was piled up against the wrought iron fence. It blew all over the place, and into the girls eyes.
Anita turned back to the inviting fire. "Maybe we'd better stay here for the night. It looks pretty nasty out there."
"No. Uh uh. I'm going back. What's Jack gonna think if we don't come home? He'll soak these two in the mornin' without a doubt." Martie stepped out into the snow. The wind cackled and snatched her hat off of her head. She ran after it, but couldn't catch it. All of a sudden, a hand reached out and grabbed it for her. Martie turned around to see Oscar turning blue with her hat in his hand. "What are you doing? Thanks for what you done, but you go back inside 'fore you freeze ta death!"
Oscar said, "You're welcome." and ran inside.
Anita called out, "You sure you don't want to stay? It could get very dangerous out there!"
"I'm sure!" Martie stepped out the gate and began to cross the street. Suddenly, a carriage turned the corner and the horse, unable to stop, reared up. Martie fell, and her head hit the ground. Everything turned to black.
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Martie opened her eyes slowly. Everything was blurry, and she was cold. When everything came into focus, Martie yelped. Oscar Delancy was laying barely 2 inches from her. "What is going on?" Her voice was hoarse, and her throat hurt.
"Oh, you're awake. Does your head hurt?" Oscar's eyes showed real concern.
Martie sat up. "No, but your's will, if--ah!! Yeah..." She quickly lay back down and cradled her head. "But you'd better explain why I'm here, and you're right there."
Oscar said, "Don't worry. I have a good explanation. See, this jerk was drivin' his carriage full speed wit'out a lantern lit, so you didn' see him comin'. I don' think he hitcha, but you fell, an' hit your head pretty hard. You was knocked out, so me an' Morris carried you in here. Uncle Wease don' let us leave the fire burnin' durin' the night, so we normally has to get close to each other--don' laugh!-- ta keep warm. But since Anita's here, Morris would much rather snuggle wit' her, an' I couldn' letcha freeze, so..."
"It can't be that cold here."
"It is, 'specially wit' this storm. I promise I won' bite ya. But ya needs ta keep warm, or else you could really freeze ta death."
"...Fine... you look weird. er. Weirder. Like not how ya normally do. Maybe not in a bad way either, but just..." Martie peered at his face, then her eyes lit up. "Your hat! I mean, you're not wearin' a hat. You have, like, hair." Martie blushed when she realized what she was thinking.
"You have real nice eyes, O'Graidy." Oscar grinned lopsidedly.
"Umm, thanks Os. Listen, I'm real tired, an' my head hurts, so... I'm gonna go to sleep. But don' try nothin'." Martie glared at him.
"I won'! I won', I may be a bully an' a real jerk besides, but I don' disrespect ladies."
"Thanks, but I'm not a lady. I'm a newsie."
Martie walked up to the window and gasped. The other three had similar reactions as they saw the spectacle before them. Where newsies normally laughed and joked around, snow billowed and piled up. The door was barred by a snowdrift 3 feet high. The four looked at each other, shocked.
"Well, then," Anita said, "I suppose we'll have to stay here until this bloody snow melts."
"S'pose so." Martie walked over and sat down in front of the fire. She was amazed that she, of all people, was trapped with the Delanceys.
"So, girls. You wanna play a game a cards?" Oscar smirked and flipped the deck between his hands.
Martie grinned. She knew that he had no idea what kind of player she was. "Sure. You playin', 'Nita?"
"Not against you, I'm not!" Anita shook her head at Oscar. "She'll win the pants off of you, that one will."
"We'll see about that..."
Morris yawned and said, "I'm starved. Hey, Os, I'm gonna see if Uncle Wease has any food around here."
Martie watched Morris and Anita disappear into the next room, then she turned and grinned at Oscar. She flipped a nickel onto the table. "Deal me in."
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Three hours later, Martie hadn't won the pants off of Oscar. However, she had won his extra pair of socks, his vest, a scarf, and half of his paper money.
"Care for another hand, Delancy?" Martie chuckled at his annoyed expression.
Oscar threw down his cards. "Where'd you learn to play like that?"
Martie stopped smiling and looked down. "Just... from somebody I used ta know... Hey, where's Anita an' Morris?"
"I dunno. They never came back from the kitchen."
Martie and Oscar walked through the library to the kitchen door. It was noticeably colder over here, although they were barely 20 feet from the fire. Martie tried the doorknob, but it wouldn't move. Oscar banged on the door.
"Don't bother," came Anita's voice from within. "It's frozen shut, at the hinges. We'll have to wait until the air warms up."
"Not that I mind bein' stuck in here, so don't do nothin' ta get us out, a'right? I found some blankets in da closet, so we'll be OK." Morris paused, as if thinking. "Youse two could get some food from out da pantry in da basement. If the rats haven't got to it yet."
"Um, OK." Martie glanced at Oscar. He shrugged and motioned for her to follow him.
The basement door was a little stuck, but it opened. The air was stale and seemed heavier than that upstairs. Oscar walked past Martie and as he did, his hand brushed her's. Martie started to pull it back, but something about the shadows in the dark, cold corners made her take it. The steps creaked in protest as the two made their way downward. The flickering lantern made every part of the room dance as though it were teeming with life. Martie shuddered to think of all the blind crawling things that must live there.
"You good, O'Graidy?"
"Yeah, I just..." Martie didn't finish her sentence, and Oscar didn't ask her to.
Oscar opened the metal icebox and something fell off the top. They both jumped back, and Oscar reached down to see what it was. It was an old cowboy hat, dusty, but still in good condition.
"Jack?" Martie asked.
Oscar nodded, and then shone his lantern inside the icebox. He pulled out a chipped bowl; it may've been red at one point, but now it was rust colored. A square cloth had been stretched over the top and tied on with a length of twine. Someone had taken a piece of charcoal and scribbled on the top,
Meet , October, 1899
"Still fresh." Oscar turned around. "It's only January."
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It was only 3 o'clock, but the sky had already turned to gray. Martie's stomach grumbled angrily as she held the meat over the fire. Oscar had, with some assistance from a huge axe, brought down a door for firewood. They had speared the somewhat slimy deer meat with the pokers and were now scorching it. Oscar moodily tossed another chunk of splintered wood into the fire.
"Hey, Os?" Martie pulled her poker out of the fire and turned to the boy next to her. "Why do you live wit' your Uncle, 'stead of your parents?"
He scowled. "Why should I tell you? I dunno your story, so why should you know mine?"
"Fine, ya wanna know my story?" Martie waited for a response, and when none came, she continued. "I don' mind tellin' ya, but I'm gonna need a bit ta get me words together."
Oscar just stared into the fire. Martie sighed and began gnawing on her meat.
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BACK AT THE LODGING HOUSE
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"If those apes do anything to Anita and Martie..." Snoddy was in a rage. "She's the only family I've got in this blasted country! I'll murder those fools!"
"Calm down, wouldja, Snod?" Pip exclaimed. "Martie's a big girl, she can take care a herself an' Anita jus' fine."
"Yeah, an' she does throw a mean hook." Hart laughed. "Remember the time she hauled off an' walloped Skit right in the kisser?"
Skittery yelped. "Hey, shut up! That wasn't funny, I wasn't expectin' it, a'right?"
"S'okay, Skit. Remember, cuz I had ta fix your kisser..." Hart grinned at him.
"A'right youse two, get a room!" Hack swooped his hands between them. "Listen, Snoddy, I don' like dem two goons any moah den you do. Dey nevah gave me back my hat, an' I'se pretty mad about that. But, even wit' their shoes on, those two know dat the two a dem is less than... umm... well, less than all a us!"
Snoddy nodded and shrugged.
"Any a youse, uh, wantin' some food? 'S near about 6 o'clock." Kloppman cringed as the noisy group tromped down the stairs to the dining room. "Guess that was a yes..."
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Oscar dumped a bucketful of snow onto the fire. It hissed and spat, but quickly went out. He tossed the bucket aside with a clang, and went to lay beside Martie. Already, the room was dark and cold, like a tomb.
"So you want me to tell you my story." Martie spoke quietly. "Well, I've gotten my words together, so now you gotta listen."
She exhaled and a dream-like cloud of air surrounded her words.
"I was born in Ireland, the Emerald Isle. My parents, Kyle and Angela O'Graidy, fled when I was barely one, to escape religious oppression from the south. That's why I don't sound Irish.
" I loved my parents. My father was tall, with dark hair and dark eyes, and a wonderful smile. He loved my mother and I with his whole heart, and he would play his fiddle, and we would dance.
"My mother was beautiful, as well. She had red hair, and eyes as clear and as green as the sea. Her skin was smoother than rosepetals. She constantly smothered me with love, with hugs and kisses and the smallest of gifts, like wildflowers, and bits of ribbon. Some days, she would let me brush her hair. I would brush it and brush it until it was as soft as her voice.
"That's what I loved most about my mother. Her voice was magical; it flew me to places on the Emerald Isle, and to Tiernanog, my favorite. It was always singing and laughing and telling me how much she loved me. Then she got sick. I was only 6.
"I dunno what she had, nor why she was sick. All I knew was that her lungs had blood in them, and she couldn't breathe right. She always coughed, day and night, coughing. Then one night, as I was drifting off to sleep, she stopped. I saw her that night. She came to my room, all dressed in white, with her hair down and her eyes shining like the stars. She looked like the Lady of The Rogue Castle. She can to me, kissed my forehead, and stroked my hair. She said to me,
' Have no fear, my little one. I'm alright now, I've no more pain. But I canna stay. Always remember, I will take care of you and love you with all me heart, wherever you go, and whatever you do. I love you, Airen...'
"Then, she was gone. And I heard a terrible sound come from her room. A strangled wail, like a soul that had lost all it had of any worth. I got up and looked in. My da' was kneeling beside her, sobbing. I didn't know why he was so upset. He stood up, still shaking with his tears, put on his hat and jacket, and left.
"I sat beside my dead mother and sang to her. I sang the story of the Leirtein Faeries who ruled the Isle long before mortals ever appeared."
Martie paused and wiped her eyes.
Oscar started, "That... that's real--"
"It's not done yet..."
"After that, my father fell to drinking. He drank all the money he made, not leaving any to feed us. Dogs ate better than I did. I was a dirty, skinny little scamp. My clothes, which weren't really more than potato sacks, hung off of my frame like rags.
"Then one day, a lady, a real lady with a fur coat, saw me out front playing with a ripped dolly that I had found in the street. She told me that I'd get a quarter if I told her about my parents. I was only 7, I didn't know any better, so I told her what I just told you. By the end, she was crying.
"Just then, my da' came home, drunk and swearing like a sailor, yelling bloody murder. She gasped and scooped me up. She asked if I would like to go with her for a little while. I nodded, and she ran to her carriage. My dolly fell to the ground and lay there, smiling, as she always would. I screamed, but the lady paid no mind. I cried, and looked back. I saw my father, for what was to be the last time. He was curled up on the ground, with his arms over his head, wailing. He had lost everything.
"We got to the lady's house, and I forgot my doll. It was enormous. Two entire floors, just for one woman, her husband, their servants, and now me. There was a lawn, with a flag in the middle. All of the windows had pink and white flowers growing on them. She whisked me upstairs and told one of the servants to bathe me. I looked up into the maid's face, and saw an angel. Her hair, tucked into a white cap, was as red as the sunset. Her eyes were as clear and as green as the sea. And she had a wonderful smile. Her name was Delia Flynn. The water was rose scented, and as she washed my hair, she sang me a song about the Angels of Limerick. I adored her. She dressed me, in a real dress, with bows and shoes and everything.
" Nearly every night, Delia told my a new story. Stories about the Angel on the Seventh Step, and others about brave Cuchlain. Then one night, as she was putting me to bed, I asked, 'Are you me muddah?"
"She whispered, 'Ach, no. I'm afraid not. But be sure of one thing, my dear. I didnae ever love a lass s'much as I love ye. Now, promise me, wee one, that you'll grow to be a fine Irish lass, but American, t'rough and t'rough. I pray the Sacred Heart of Jesus to follow you always.'
"The next day, the fine lady decided she no longer wanted me, like children do with toys that no longer interest them, or a kitten that has grown up. She cut me hair to my chin, put me in a pair of pants and paid a newsboy two whole dollars to take care of me.
"His name was Squirt. He was nine, no more than a year older than me. He started me sellin' papes. One day, he said to me, ' Airen, we'se gots ta find ya a new name. Your's is just too Irish." So, he started calling me Martie.
"When I'se 12, Squirt fell off the Brooklyn Bridge. Seemed to me like everyone I had ever loved had died, or gone away. So for the next few years, I switched from lodgin' house to lodgin' house, never stayin' long enough to really get attatched to anyone. Then I met Ben.
"He was from Maryland, and he had the most wonderful accent. He was tall, very handsome. He had short blond hair and blue eyes. He spoke gently, laughed a l0t, and really respected people. I had loved people before, but... I was in love with Ben. Really in love. He treated me like royalty. I didn't see why; there wasn't really anything extraordinary about me. He's the one who taught my how to really play poker. He disappeared July 5th, two years ago.
"An' now, I'm here."
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Oscar said, "You had a pretty rough life."
"Well, I've heard worse." Martie looked at him. "So, what of it? You gonna tell me your story?"
Oscar sighed and said, "I guess I might as well..."
"Morris was born barely a year before me, but me muddah weren't too happy wit' neither of us. She weren't plannin' on evah havin' kids, but wit' the way she lived, I'se sure she had 10 moah aftah us...
"Anyways, one day, she jus' up an' decided that she didn't want neither of us no more. Kinda like your lady, 'cept'n this was me muddah. She dumped me an' Morris at the World newspaper center wit' a dime each and a piece of moldy bread between both.
"When we got to the window, dis big oaf of a guy asked us, 'How many?' Me an' Morris didn't know what we was supposed ta do. So, Morris started cryin'. 'S kinda funny. When we was kids, it always seemed like I was older, like I was 10 ,and Morris was the one what was 9.
"So the big guy told us to wait on the side. Once all the newsies had got their papes, he asked us what was goin' on. We tol' 'im, an' he just shook his head and brought us inside.
"That's about all there was to that. He just all a sudden became our Uncle Wease."
Martie rolled over so she was facing Oscar. She rubbed her eyes. "I dunno why I feel like I can ask you this, but... Have you evah... been in love? Before?"
Oscar blinked at her. "Well, I guess dat's what you'd call it... Uh, I'se real tired, so, I'se just gonna go ta sleep..."
"Yeah..."
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The next morning, Martie woke up to see Anita grinning and shaking her shoulder. "What... hey, wait, you got out?"
"Yeah," Anita shrugged. "I guess it got warm enough, that the hinges were able to move. And the snow has melted. You'd better get up if you want to get your papers."
Martie sat up and shook the cobwebs out of her brain. Memories of everything she had told Oscar the night before flooded into her mind. She got up and pulled her hat and coat on.
Outside, the newsies huddled together for warmth and laughed at how silly and red they all looked. Blink was dancing around, singing some silly song to Fairy; She was trying to look embarrassed, but Martie could clearly see that she loved it.
A few of the newsies called out to the two girls as they bounced down the steps with their papers. They smiled and waved back. Jack stormed over to them and started yelling.
"Where have you been all night?? Do you have any idea how worried we've been about you? And Anita, Snoddy was practically sick over you? I can't believe that you were so careless..."
Martie tuned him out and pulled his cowboy hat from inside her coat. "Oscar found this and wanted me to give it to ya."
"Well, why didn't dat stupid little rat give it to me hisself??"
"You would've tried to kill him."
Jack started to retort, but he knew it was true. So he jammed the hat onto his head and walked out into the street.
The court was empty, so Anita and Martie started to walk out. "Hey, girls!" They both turned, to see Oscar and Morris standing just inside the door.
"We'll see ya again sometime?" Morris winked at Anita.
"Sure."
Morris elbowed Oscar. "From the look on your face, I'd say you had a pretty good night, ah?"
"We didn't do anythin'. We jus' talked..."
"WHAT?? You sleep wit' a girl you had your eye on for a while, an' you TALKED?"
"People do crazy things when they're in love..."
"Please, Os, you ain't in love, you just wanna get OOF!"
Oscar pulled his fist back to his side from where it had met Morris' jaw. "See? Completely crazy..."
Martie rapped on the frozen door. Oscar opened it and winced at the blast of cold air. Martie rushed inside and looked around. "Where's Morris an' Wease?"
"Ah," Oscar shut the door. "They went to da bowlin' alley. Do ya, um, wanna siddown?"
"No, thanks. I just wanted to thank you." Martie shrugged. "For listening. I nevah told anybody me whole story before, at one time. 'Nita knows the whole t'ing, but she got it in bits and pieces. An' I wanted to apoligize..."
"F' what? You ain't done nothin' wrong!"
"Well, for askin' you.... about whether you been in love. It wasn't any of my business, an' I knowed that guys don' like talkin' about it much, an'..."
Oscar abruptly leaned forward and kissed Martie. She was startled, but then she kissed him back.
Suddenly, Martie pulled away and turned her back to Oscar. She covered her eyes with her hands, her mind racing.
"Martie," Oscar's voice came from behind her. "I know dat I ain't got the best reputation, wit' bein' a Delancy an' all. An' I know dat I done a lot of really bad stuff. Like a couple of summers ago when me an' Morris beat Crutchy up. An' that time when we got the Crib to gang up on Jack an' the uddah newsies. I know dat stuff was all terrible, an' I feel like a real jerk. I ain' sayin' I like Cowboy, I can't stand him, but...
"You gotta understand dat I'se human. I got feelin's for myself an' uddah people, same as anybody else. I'se got emotions too. Yeah, hate an' dislike, but also affection an' love, an'... Martie, please. Jes' forget dat I'm Oscar Delancey. Forget all dat, an' figure out how you feel."
Martie turned around, with her eyes still covered. "I feel scared. Cuz everybody I evah loved has left, an' I don' wanna be hurt no more."
"Jeez, Martie! Don't you know dat I wouldn't nevah hurt you? It's like a little kid wit' his muddah. He t'inks she hung the stars, the sun rises and sets on her, an' he wants to do everything he can ta make her happy. An' he'd jump on any thug dat even talks to her, cuz he don' want her ta get hurt. C'mon, Martie, won't you even look at me? Please?"
Martie opened her eyes and looked up at him. His eyes were pleading. She searched them for a few minutes that seemed like eternity. She put her hands on his neck and kissed him. He pulled his hands from where they had been clasped behind his back, and put them around her waist.
Martie hovered an inch from his face, her mouth open and her eyes closed. She tucked her head in and leaned on Oscar's chest. Who knew how long they stood like that, Oscar with his arms wrapped around Martie and his face in her hair, Martie pressed against Oscar, feeling more protected than she ever had. But the warmth that the two young lovers made thwarted that of the blazing fire beside them.
THE END
Iced Over, Part 1
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"Morris. As in, Delancy." It wasn't a question. It was a statement. Martie stared open-mouthed at her friend, Anita, who was blushing and nodding. "But, but he... I mean, Morris! He, well, I mean... just, he looks like an ape!"
"Well, yeah,but," Anita grinned, "he's so sweet!"
"Yeah, sweet like the blood from a busted lip." Martie shook her head. "I don't think I can. Sorry, but..."
"Oh, come on! I can't go to the center alone! It's almost halfway across the city. And it's cold, what if I get lost?"
"How could you get lost? We go there every day!"
"And... I'm nervous to go alone. Please, America's a lot different from England."
"Ah... fine. But you... you owe me big time..."
"Oh!!! Thank you, thank you, thank you!!" Anita ran over and threw her arms around Martie. "You're the best friend I could have!"
"Yeah. I know." Martie moved over to her bunk and grabbed her coat. She, like most of the other newsies, had gotten warm clothes from the St. Vincent de Paul Society. The coat had obviously once been very nice, but by the time it got to Martie, it was stretched out in several places and had a few moth holes. But Martie had patched up the holes, and now the coat provided warmth against the brutal January in New York.
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As Martie and Anita walked toward the center later that day, neither girl noticed the sky growing darker or the wind blowing harder. They laughed as they walked, huddled against the cold that stung their cheeks and burned their lungs.
They got to the center and Anita rapped quickly on the door. Morris almost immediately opened it and pulled Anita in by the hands. He smiled shyly at her, then awkwardly kissed her cheek. Oscar appeared behind his brother and rolled his eyes at Martie.
The four walked inside, where it was no warmer than out side, but in the sitting room, a fire was crackling happily. Morris pulled two mismatched chairs toward the fire; Oscar mirrored his brother's actions silently.
"So," Morris gazed at Anita. "What've you been up to?"
"Nothing, really. Selling my papers, staying alive. Trying to keep from freezing to death." Anita laughed gently, and Morris hyucked along with her.
Martie smiled uncomfortably, but her eyes flicked from Morris to Anita, again and again. She could figure out why Morris liked Anita. She was very pretty and sweet to boot. Her light brown hair curled gently around her face, loosely at the ends. Her skin was never tan, and never pale, just always very rosy and soft looking. Anita wasn't fat, nor was she skinny. She was round, but smooth and soft. Her eyes were dark brown and very welcoming. That was Anita, soft and smooth like a comfortable painting where the edges are blurred and sleepy. As to why Anita liked Morris, Martie didn't know. He needed a shave and a haircut, not to mention a good long bath.
"So, sweet cheeks," Oscar smirked, "what brings you here?"
"Your incredibly handsome face, Os." Martie rolled her eyes. "Anita asked me to come wit her, and she wouldn't take no for an answer."
"Sure, that's it." Oscar winked at Martie and put a cigarette in his mouth.
Martie sighed and pulled her coat closer around her. It was going to be a long visit.
"So, Anita," Morris stood up. "Could I see you tomorrow, after you sell your papes?"
"Of course you can, Morris. Where do you want to go?" Anita gazed up at Morris. Martie felt like she was going to gag.
"Anywhere with you is fine."
"Well," said Oscar, "You two had better get goin'. Don't wanna be late gettin' back, do ya?" He opened the door for the two girls. It would've been a polite gesture, had he not been almost shoving them out.
Martie gasped at the same time as Anita said, "Oh my..."
The entire courtyard was white. Snow was piled up against the wrought iron fence. It blew all over the place, and into the girls eyes.
Anita turned back to the inviting fire. "Maybe we'd better stay here for the night. It looks pretty nasty out there."
"No. Uh uh. I'm going back. What's Jack gonna think if we don't come home? He'll soak these two in the mornin' without a doubt." Martie stepped out into the snow. The wind cackled and snatched her hat off of her head. She ran after it, but couldn't catch it. All of a sudden, a hand reached out and grabbed it for her. Martie turned around to see Oscar turning blue with her hat in his hand. "What are you doing? Thanks for what you done, but you go back inside 'fore you freeze ta death!"
Oscar said, "You're welcome." and ran inside.
Anita called out, "You sure you don't want to stay? It could get very dangerous out there!"
"I'm sure!" Martie stepped out the gate and began to cross the street. Suddenly, a carriage turned the corner and the horse, unable to stop, reared up. Martie fell, and her head hit the ground. Everything turned to black.
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Martie opened her eyes slowly. Everything was blurry, and she was cold. When everything came into focus, Martie yelped. Oscar Delancy was laying barely 2 inches from her. "What is going on?" Her voice was hoarse, and her throat hurt.
"Oh, you're awake. Does your head hurt?" Oscar's eyes showed real concern.
Martie sat up. "No, but your's will, if--ah!! Yeah..." She quickly lay back down and cradled her head. "But you'd better explain why I'm here, and you're right there."
Oscar said, "Don't worry. I have a good explanation. See, this jerk was drivin' his carriage full speed wit'out a lantern lit, so you didn' see him comin'. I don' think he hitcha, but you fell, an' hit your head pretty hard. You was knocked out, so me an' Morris carried you in here. Uncle Wease don' let us leave the fire burnin' durin' the night, so we normally has to get close to each other--don' laugh!-- ta keep warm. But since Anita's here, Morris would much rather snuggle wit' her, an' I couldn' letcha freeze, so..."
"It can't be that cold here."
"It is, 'specially wit' this storm. I promise I won' bite ya. But ya needs ta keep warm, or else you could really freeze ta death."
"...Fine... you look weird. er. Weirder. Like not how ya normally do. Maybe not in a bad way either, but just..." Martie peered at his face, then her eyes lit up. "Your hat! I mean, you're not wearin' a hat. You have, like, hair." Martie blushed when she realized what she was thinking.
"You have real nice eyes, O'Graidy." Oscar grinned lopsidedly.
"Umm, thanks Os. Listen, I'm real tired, an' my head hurts, so... I'm gonna go to sleep. But don' try nothin'." Martie glared at him.
"I won'! I won', I may be a bully an' a real jerk besides, but I don' disrespect ladies."
"Thanks, but I'm not a lady. I'm a newsie."
Martie walked up to the window and gasped. The other three had similar reactions as they saw the spectacle before them. Where newsies normally laughed and joked around, snow billowed and piled up. The door was barred by a snowdrift 3 feet high. The four looked at each other, shocked.
"Well, then," Anita said, "I suppose we'll have to stay here until this bloody snow melts."
"S'pose so." Martie walked over and sat down in front of the fire. She was amazed that she, of all people, was trapped with the Delanceys.
"So, girls. You wanna play a game a cards?" Oscar smirked and flipped the deck between his hands.
Martie grinned. She knew that he had no idea what kind of player she was. "Sure. You playin', 'Nita?"
"Not against you, I'm not!" Anita shook her head at Oscar. "She'll win the pants off of you, that one will."
"We'll see about that..."
Morris yawned and said, "I'm starved. Hey, Os, I'm gonna see if Uncle Wease has any food around here."
Martie watched Morris and Anita disappear into the next room, then she turned and grinned at Oscar. She flipped a nickel onto the table. "Deal me in."
}}i{{
Three hours later, Martie hadn't won the pants off of Oscar. However, she had won his extra pair of socks, his vest, a scarf, and half of his paper money.
"Care for another hand, Delancy?" Martie chuckled at his annoyed expression.
Oscar threw down his cards. "Where'd you learn to play like that?"
Martie stopped smiling and looked down. "Just... from somebody I used ta know... Hey, where's Anita an' Morris?"
"I dunno. They never came back from the kitchen."
Martie and Oscar walked through the library to the kitchen door. It was noticeably colder over here, although they were barely 20 feet from the fire. Martie tried the doorknob, but it wouldn't move. Oscar banged on the door.
"Don't bother," came Anita's voice from within. "It's frozen shut, at the hinges. We'll have to wait until the air warms up."
"Not that I mind bein' stuck in here, so don't do nothin' ta get us out, a'right? I found some blankets in da closet, so we'll be OK." Morris paused, as if thinking. "Youse two could get some food from out da pantry in da basement. If the rats haven't got to it yet."
"Um, OK." Martie glanced at Oscar. He shrugged and motioned for her to follow him.
The basement door was a little stuck, but it opened. The air was stale and seemed heavier than that upstairs. Oscar walked past Martie and as he did, his hand brushed her's. Martie started to pull it back, but something about the shadows in the dark, cold corners made her take it. The steps creaked in protest as the two made their way downward. The flickering lantern made every part of the room dance as though it were teeming with life. Martie shuddered to think of all the blind crawling things that must live there.
"You good, O'Graidy?"
"Yeah, I just..." Martie didn't finish her sentence, and Oscar didn't ask her to.
Oscar opened the metal icebox and something fell off the top. They both jumped back, and Oscar reached down to see what it was. It was an old cowboy hat, dusty, but still in good condition.
"Jack?" Martie asked.
Oscar nodded, and then shone his lantern inside the icebox. He pulled out a chipped bowl; it may've been red at one point, but now it was rust colored. A square cloth had been stretched over the top and tied on with a length of twine. Someone had taken a piece of charcoal and scribbled on the top,
Meet , October, 1899
"Still fresh." Oscar turned around. "It's only January."
}}i{{
It was only 3 o'clock, but the sky had already turned to gray. Martie's stomach grumbled angrily as she held the meat over the fire. Oscar had, with some assistance from a huge axe, brought down a door for firewood. They had speared the somewhat slimy deer meat with the pokers and were now scorching it. Oscar moodily tossed another chunk of splintered wood into the fire.
"Hey, Os?" Martie pulled her poker out of the fire and turned to the boy next to her. "Why do you live wit' your Uncle, 'stead of your parents?"
He scowled. "Why should I tell you? I dunno your story, so why should you know mine?"
"Fine, ya wanna know my story?" Martie waited for a response, and when none came, she continued. "I don' mind tellin' ya, but I'm gonna need a bit ta get me words together."
Oscar just stared into the fire. Martie sighed and began gnawing on her meat.
}}i{{
BACK AT THE LODGING HOUSE
}}i{{
"If those apes do anything to Anita and Martie..." Snoddy was in a rage. "She's the only family I've got in this blasted country! I'll murder those fools!"
"Calm down, wouldja, Snod?" Pip exclaimed. "Martie's a big girl, she can take care a herself an' Anita jus' fine."
"Yeah, an' she does throw a mean hook." Hart laughed. "Remember the time she hauled off an' walloped Skit right in the kisser?"
Skittery yelped. "Hey, shut up! That wasn't funny, I wasn't expectin' it, a'right?"
"S'okay, Skit. Remember, cuz I had ta fix your kisser..." Hart grinned at him.
"A'right youse two, get a room!" Hack swooped his hands between them. "Listen, Snoddy, I don' like dem two goons any moah den you do. Dey nevah gave me back my hat, an' I'se pretty mad about that. But, even wit' their shoes on, those two know dat the two a dem is less than... umm... well, less than all a us!"
Snoddy nodded and shrugged.
"Any a youse, uh, wantin' some food? 'S near about 6 o'clock." Kloppman cringed as the noisy group tromped down the stairs to the dining room. "Guess that was a yes..."
}}i{{
}}i{{
Oscar dumped a bucketful of snow onto the fire. It hissed and spat, but quickly went out. He tossed the bucket aside with a clang, and went to lay beside Martie. Already, the room was dark and cold, like a tomb.
"So you want me to tell you my story." Martie spoke quietly. "Well, I've gotten my words together, so now you gotta listen."
She exhaled and a dream-like cloud of air surrounded her words.
"I was born in Ireland, the Emerald Isle. My parents, Kyle and Angela O'Graidy, fled when I was barely one, to escape religious oppression from the south. That's why I don't sound Irish.
" I loved my parents. My father was tall, with dark hair and dark eyes, and a wonderful smile. He loved my mother and I with his whole heart, and he would play his fiddle, and we would dance.
"My mother was beautiful, as well. She had red hair, and eyes as clear and as green as the sea. Her skin was smoother than rosepetals. She constantly smothered me with love, with hugs and kisses and the smallest of gifts, like wildflowers, and bits of ribbon. Some days, she would let me brush her hair. I would brush it and brush it until it was as soft as her voice.
"That's what I loved most about my mother. Her voice was magical; it flew me to places on the Emerald Isle, and to Tiernanog, my favorite. It was always singing and laughing and telling me how much she loved me. Then she got sick. I was only 6.
"I dunno what she had, nor why she was sick. All I knew was that her lungs had blood in them, and she couldn't breathe right. She always coughed, day and night, coughing. Then one night, as I was drifting off to sleep, she stopped. I saw her that night. She came to my room, all dressed in white, with her hair down and her eyes shining like the stars. She looked like the Lady of The Rogue Castle. She can to me, kissed my forehead, and stroked my hair. She said to me,
' Have no fear, my little one. I'm alright now, I've no more pain. But I canna stay. Always remember, I will take care of you and love you with all me heart, wherever you go, and whatever you do. I love you, Airen...'
"Then, she was gone. And I heard a terrible sound come from her room. A strangled wail, like a soul that had lost all it had of any worth. I got up and looked in. My da' was kneeling beside her, sobbing. I didn't know why he was so upset. He stood up, still shaking with his tears, put on his hat and jacket, and left.
"I sat beside my dead mother and sang to her. I sang the story of the Leirtein Faeries who ruled the Isle long before mortals ever appeared."
Martie paused and wiped her eyes.
Oscar started, "That... that's real--"
"It's not done yet..."
"After that, my father fell to drinking. He drank all the money he made, not leaving any to feed us. Dogs ate better than I did. I was a dirty, skinny little scamp. My clothes, which weren't really more than potato sacks, hung off of my frame like rags.
"Then one day, a lady, a real lady with a fur coat, saw me out front playing with a ripped dolly that I had found in the street. She told me that I'd get a quarter if I told her about my parents. I was only 7, I didn't know any better, so I told her what I just told you. By the end, she was crying.
"Just then, my da' came home, drunk and swearing like a sailor, yelling bloody murder. She gasped and scooped me up. She asked if I would like to go with her for a little while. I nodded, and she ran to her carriage. My dolly fell to the ground and lay there, smiling, as she always would. I screamed, but the lady paid no mind. I cried, and looked back. I saw my father, for what was to be the last time. He was curled up on the ground, with his arms over his head, wailing. He had lost everything.
"We got to the lady's house, and I forgot my doll. It was enormous. Two entire floors, just for one woman, her husband, their servants, and now me. There was a lawn, with a flag in the middle. All of the windows had pink and white flowers growing on them. She whisked me upstairs and told one of the servants to bathe me. I looked up into the maid's face, and saw an angel. Her hair, tucked into a white cap, was as red as the sunset. Her eyes were as clear and as green as the sea. And she had a wonderful smile. Her name was Delia Flynn. The water was rose scented, and as she washed my hair, she sang me a song about the Angels of Limerick. I adored her. She dressed me, in a real dress, with bows and shoes and everything.
" Nearly every night, Delia told my a new story. Stories about the Angel on the Seventh Step, and others about brave Cuchlain. Then one night, as she was putting me to bed, I asked, 'Are you me muddah?"
"She whispered, 'Ach, no. I'm afraid not. But be sure of one thing, my dear. I didnae ever love a lass s'much as I love ye. Now, promise me, wee one, that you'll grow to be a fine Irish lass, but American, t'rough and t'rough. I pray the Sacred Heart of Jesus to follow you always.'
"The next day, the fine lady decided she no longer wanted me, like children do with toys that no longer interest them, or a kitten that has grown up. She cut me hair to my chin, put me in a pair of pants and paid a newsboy two whole dollars to take care of me.
"His name was Squirt. He was nine, no more than a year older than me. He started me sellin' papes. One day, he said to me, ' Airen, we'se gots ta find ya a new name. Your's is just too Irish." So, he started calling me Martie.
"When I'se 12, Squirt fell off the Brooklyn Bridge. Seemed to me like everyone I had ever loved had died, or gone away. So for the next few years, I switched from lodgin' house to lodgin' house, never stayin' long enough to really get attatched to anyone. Then I met Ben.
"He was from Maryland, and he had the most wonderful accent. He was tall, very handsome. He had short blond hair and blue eyes. He spoke gently, laughed a l0t, and really respected people. I had loved people before, but... I was in love with Ben. Really in love. He treated me like royalty. I didn't see why; there wasn't really anything extraordinary about me. He's the one who taught my how to really play poker. He disappeared July 5th, two years ago.
"An' now, I'm here."
{{
Oscar said, "You had a pretty rough life."
"Well, I've heard worse." Martie looked at him. "So, what of it? You gonna tell me your story?"
Oscar sighed and said, "I guess I might as well..."
"Morris was born barely a year before me, but me muddah weren't too happy wit' neither of us. She weren't plannin' on evah havin' kids, but wit' the way she lived, I'se sure she had 10 moah aftah us...
"Anyways, one day, she jus' up an' decided that she didn't want neither of us no more. Kinda like your lady, 'cept'n this was me muddah. She dumped me an' Morris at the World newspaper center wit' a dime each and a piece of moldy bread between both.
"When we got to the window, dis big oaf of a guy asked us, 'How many?' Me an' Morris didn't know what we was supposed ta do. So, Morris started cryin'. 'S kinda funny. When we was kids, it always seemed like I was older, like I was 10 ,and Morris was the one what was 9.
"So the big guy told us to wait on the side. Once all the newsies had got their papes, he asked us what was goin' on. We tol' 'im, an' he just shook his head and brought us inside.
"That's about all there was to that. He just all a sudden became our Uncle Wease."
Martie rolled over so she was facing Oscar. She rubbed her eyes. "I dunno why I feel like I can ask you this, but... Have you evah... been in love? Before?"
Oscar blinked at her. "Well, I guess dat's what you'd call it... Uh, I'se real tired, so, I'se just gonna go ta sleep..."
"Yeah..."
}}i{{
The next morning, Martie woke up to see Anita grinning and shaking her shoulder. "What... hey, wait, you got out?"
"Yeah," Anita shrugged. "I guess it got warm enough, that the hinges were able to move. And the snow has melted. You'd better get up if you want to get your papers."
Martie sat up and shook the cobwebs out of her brain. Memories of everything she had told Oscar the night before flooded into her mind. She got up and pulled her hat and coat on.
Outside, the newsies huddled together for warmth and laughed at how silly and red they all looked. Blink was dancing around, singing some silly song to Fairy; She was trying to look embarrassed, but Martie could clearly see that she loved it.
A few of the newsies called out to the two girls as they bounced down the steps with their papers. They smiled and waved back. Jack stormed over to them and started yelling.
"Where have you been all night?? Do you have any idea how worried we've been about you? And Anita, Snoddy was practically sick over you? I can't believe that you were so careless..."
Martie tuned him out and pulled his cowboy hat from inside her coat. "Oscar found this and wanted me to give it to ya."
"Well, why didn't dat stupid little rat give it to me hisself??"
"You would've tried to kill him."
Jack started to retort, but he knew it was true. So he jammed the hat onto his head and walked out into the street.
The court was empty, so Anita and Martie started to walk out. "Hey, girls!" They both turned, to see Oscar and Morris standing just inside the door.
"We'll see ya again sometime?" Morris winked at Anita.
"Sure."
Morris elbowed Oscar. "From the look on your face, I'd say you had a pretty good night, ah?"
"We didn't do anythin'. We jus' talked..."
"WHAT?? You sleep wit' a girl you had your eye on for a while, an' you TALKED?"
"People do crazy things when they're in love..."
"Please, Os, you ain't in love, you just wanna get OOF!"
Oscar pulled his fist back to his side from where it had met Morris' jaw. "See? Completely crazy..."
Martie rapped on the frozen door. Oscar opened it and winced at the blast of cold air. Martie rushed inside and looked around. "Where's Morris an' Wease?"
"Ah," Oscar shut the door. "They went to da bowlin' alley. Do ya, um, wanna siddown?"
"No, thanks. I just wanted to thank you." Martie shrugged. "For listening. I nevah told anybody me whole story before, at one time. 'Nita knows the whole t'ing, but she got it in bits and pieces. An' I wanted to apoligize..."
"F' what? You ain't done nothin' wrong!"
"Well, for askin' you.... about whether you been in love. It wasn't any of my business, an' I knowed that guys don' like talkin' about it much, an'..."
Oscar abruptly leaned forward and kissed Martie. She was startled, but then she kissed him back.
Suddenly, Martie pulled away and turned her back to Oscar. She covered her eyes with her hands, her mind racing.
"Martie," Oscar's voice came from behind her. "I know dat I ain't got the best reputation, wit' bein' a Delancy an' all. An' I know dat I done a lot of really bad stuff. Like a couple of summers ago when me an' Morris beat Crutchy up. An' that time when we got the Crib to gang up on Jack an' the uddah newsies. I know dat stuff was all terrible, an' I feel like a real jerk. I ain' sayin' I like Cowboy, I can't stand him, but...
"You gotta understand dat I'se human. I got feelin's for myself an' uddah people, same as anybody else. I'se got emotions too. Yeah, hate an' dislike, but also affection an' love, an'... Martie, please. Jes' forget dat I'm Oscar Delancey. Forget all dat, an' figure out how you feel."
Martie turned around, with her eyes still covered. "I feel scared. Cuz everybody I evah loved has left, an' I don' wanna be hurt no more."
"Jeez, Martie! Don't you know dat I wouldn't nevah hurt you? It's like a little kid wit' his muddah. He t'inks she hung the stars, the sun rises and sets on her, an' he wants to do everything he can ta make her happy. An' he'd jump on any thug dat even talks to her, cuz he don' want her ta get hurt. C'mon, Martie, won't you even look at me? Please?"
Martie opened her eyes and looked up at him. His eyes were pleading. She searched them for a few minutes that seemed like eternity. She put her hands on his neck and kissed him. He pulled his hands from where they had been clasped behind his back, and put them around her waist.
Martie hovered an inch from his face, her mouth open and her eyes closed. She tucked her head in and leaned on Oscar's chest. Who knew how long they stood like that, Oscar with his arms wrapped around Martie and his face in her hair, Martie pressed against Oscar, feeling more protected than she ever had. But the warmth that the two young lovers made thwarted that of the blazing fire beside them.
THE END