A Simple Act of Kindness
A Newsies fan fiction
by Galatyn Renner
Francis Sullivan sat up in a cold sweat. It ain't true, the sixteen year old told himself. I ain't never going back there.
Then he looked around and saw the bunks, stacked too high for the lodging house, and he knew his nightmare was real. He was back at the Refuge. In a few hours Snyder would come to haul them out of bed and it would all begin again, the routine he hated with every bone in his young body. The daily grind that wore down your soul until all you could remember was the Refuge.
He could have cried. The tears would have come if Francis had let them. He lay back, fighting sobs. But Francis had been beaten to it; someone was crying softly in the bunk above. Francis tried to remember the kid's name. He wasn't one of the 'regulars', having been brought in for the first time only that day. The goon who dragged him in had said the kid owed him money, an unusual charge. Francis had been surprised that he had even made it to the Refuge, much less in one piece.
It wasn't unusual for the new ones to cry. Francis had cried when he was first brought to the Refuge, accused of stealing food. He hadn't even gotten the loaf of bread, so it wasn't even fair. Snyder didn't care, though. He didn't have to listen to the kids cry at night. all he did was dole out punishments with a liberal hand and count his money.
Francis's stomach rumbled; he had missed dinner for what the warden called "disruptive behavior". But the kid was still crying, so Francis dug into the small cache between the his bed and the wall, pulling out the apple. He had been saving it for a treat, but there were more important things, like making a friend who wouldn't squeal when Francis got his chance to escape.
He stood up on the bunk, being careful not to squeak the springs. This brought him to a bit above eye level with the person on the top bunk. Or would have, if the kid hadn't had his face buried in the pillow.
Francis reached over and touched the boy's shoulder. He rolled over, stared at Francis briefly, and curled back up in a tearful little ball.
Francis sighed. "It's all right," he said softly. "I cried, too. We all did. It ain't nothing to be ashamed of."
"I ain't never goin' back to da tracks again. Never. I don't think I can stand it." Whispered in a tear-thickened voice.
"You can't let 'em beat ya. You gotta remember that they're dead wrong at that gives you the advantage." Francis didn't believe a word he was saying, but the boy caught his breath and rolled over toward him, so it didn't matter.
"Is this place really as bad as they say it is?"
Francis smiled ruefully. "Yeah. Pretty much."
"Figured." The kid's tone absolutely dripped with cynicism.
Francis was surprised to hear the voice of an adult coming out of someone he had taken to be nine or ten. "How old are you, kid?"
"Fourteen. Why?"
"You look younger."
"I'm short, okay" The kid was peaked enough to stop sniffing, Francis' original intent.
"You hungry?"
"Don't ask me again, I might eat you."
Francis smiled and handed him the apple. "Stick this in your gob. And get some sleep, you're gonna need it." He moved to lay back down, but the boy caught his arm.
"Thanks- I don't even know your name."
"They call me Cowboy."
"Cowboy, huh? Ain't any worse than mine, I guess; Racetrack Higgins."
"Stay close to me tomorrow, Racetrack."
"Got ya, Cowboy. Good night."
"Good night, Racetrack."
Francis lay back down, trying to ignore his hunger and the soft crunching coming from above. Suddenly a hand reached over the side. It was holding something. "It's your apple," Racetrack said. "You want half?"
Francis took what was left of the apple. He liked this kid. "I'm gonna get us out of here, Race."
"I believe ya, Cowboy." And Racetrack did.
Afterword: As we know, Francis, later Jack Kelly, did get them out of the Refuge in a very flamboyant manner. And Race did get back to the tracks. Some things never change. Things like compassion. Reaching out to help someone is just as important today as it was in 1899. Maybe more so. Sometimes it's as simple as cheering up a crying boy with an apple. You never know ho something like that can return to you. Jack made a lifelong friend that night.
So look around you today. If you see someone who's lonely, go over and say hello. If someone's being pushed around, go help them out. It doesn't take very much to make or break someone's day. An apple and a kind word late at night.
Fin
A Newsies fan fiction
by Galatyn Renner
Francis Sullivan sat up in a cold sweat. It ain't true, the sixteen year old told himself. I ain't never going back there.
Then he looked around and saw the bunks, stacked too high for the lodging house, and he knew his nightmare was real. He was back at the Refuge. In a few hours Snyder would come to haul them out of bed and it would all begin again, the routine he hated with every bone in his young body. The daily grind that wore down your soul until all you could remember was the Refuge.
He could have cried. The tears would have come if Francis had let them. He lay back, fighting sobs. But Francis had been beaten to it; someone was crying softly in the bunk above. Francis tried to remember the kid's name. He wasn't one of the 'regulars', having been brought in for the first time only that day. The goon who dragged him in had said the kid owed him money, an unusual charge. Francis had been surprised that he had even made it to the Refuge, much less in one piece.
It wasn't unusual for the new ones to cry. Francis had cried when he was first brought to the Refuge, accused of stealing food. He hadn't even gotten the loaf of bread, so it wasn't even fair. Snyder didn't care, though. He didn't have to listen to the kids cry at night. all he did was dole out punishments with a liberal hand and count his money.
Francis's stomach rumbled; he had missed dinner for what the warden called "disruptive behavior". But the kid was still crying, so Francis dug into the small cache between the his bed and the wall, pulling out the apple. He had been saving it for a treat, but there were more important things, like making a friend who wouldn't squeal when Francis got his chance to escape.
He stood up on the bunk, being careful not to squeak the springs. This brought him to a bit above eye level with the person on the top bunk. Or would have, if the kid hadn't had his face buried in the pillow.
Francis reached over and touched the boy's shoulder. He rolled over, stared at Francis briefly, and curled back up in a tearful little ball.
Francis sighed. "It's all right," he said softly. "I cried, too. We all did. It ain't nothing to be ashamed of."
"I ain't never goin' back to da tracks again. Never. I don't think I can stand it." Whispered in a tear-thickened voice.
"You can't let 'em beat ya. You gotta remember that they're dead wrong at that gives you the advantage." Francis didn't believe a word he was saying, but the boy caught his breath and rolled over toward him, so it didn't matter.
"Is this place really as bad as they say it is?"
Francis smiled ruefully. "Yeah. Pretty much."
"Figured." The kid's tone absolutely dripped with cynicism.
Francis was surprised to hear the voice of an adult coming out of someone he had taken to be nine or ten. "How old are you, kid?"
"Fourteen. Why?"
"You look younger."
"I'm short, okay" The kid was peaked enough to stop sniffing, Francis' original intent.
"You hungry?"
"Don't ask me again, I might eat you."
Francis smiled and handed him the apple. "Stick this in your gob. And get some sleep, you're gonna need it." He moved to lay back down, but the boy caught his arm.
"Thanks- I don't even know your name."
"They call me Cowboy."
"Cowboy, huh? Ain't any worse than mine, I guess; Racetrack Higgins."
"Stay close to me tomorrow, Racetrack."
"Got ya, Cowboy. Good night."
"Good night, Racetrack."
Francis lay back down, trying to ignore his hunger and the soft crunching coming from above. Suddenly a hand reached over the side. It was holding something. "It's your apple," Racetrack said. "You want half?"
Francis took what was left of the apple. He liked this kid. "I'm gonna get us out of here, Race."
"I believe ya, Cowboy." And Racetrack did.
Afterword: As we know, Francis, later Jack Kelly, did get them out of the Refuge in a very flamboyant manner. And Race did get back to the tracks. Some things never change. Things like compassion. Reaching out to help someone is just as important today as it was in 1899. Maybe more so. Sometimes it's as simple as cheering up a crying boy with an apple. You never know ho something like that can return to you. Jack made a lifelong friend that night.
So look around you today. If you see someone who's lonely, go over and say hello. If someone's being pushed around, go help them out. It doesn't take very much to make or break someone's day. An apple and a kind word late at night.
Fin