A/N: Hey, I have the second chapter finished. Wow I'm on fire! Just a quick note. As mentioned before, I have read the book as well as seen the movie, so things from both will be taken and adapted. If you have any questions, feel free to PM me about anything.
Disclaimer: I still do not own Glee Ryan Murphy does. I still do not own Oliver Twist, even though I have a paperback copy. That all belongs to Charles Dickens.
Now on with the show.
Chapter Two: Complications
Now to understand the rest of this story, we need first to understand the beauty and horror that was London England at that time. The young'uns like Kurtis were divided into groups, ones that slaved at the Parish Workhouse, ones that slaved as apprentices because no one else wanted them, and ones that made a downright dirty and dishonest living. That was poor London. Poor London was seen in the eyes of the authority as a disgrace, like scum on their shoes, and the one in charge of ensuring that poor London didn't get in the way of the wealthy was one Master Carl Howell. Carl Howell was the Parish Beadle, and he wasn't afraid to let others know.
That same day that Kurtis found himself out of the workhouse, Sue Sylvester paid Carl Howell a visit.
"Well, hello there Ma'am, how may I help you?"
"Skip the pleasantries Howell. There is a boy that I want you to watch. He goes by the name of Twist."
"Ah yes, young Kurtis Twist. I presume that is of whom you speak?"
"How did you remember?"
"I remember every child I name Madam. I am in charge of them after all."
"I believe you mean that I am in charge of them." Sue said.
"Of course Madam." Carl waved a hand dismissively. "I'll keep an eye out for the lad. I shall even find a tradesman willing to take him on, for the right price of course."
And a notice was posted. It read:
Boy available for trade work; price is five pounds!
Shortly after that, Kurt put his plan into action. He eyed the large gate. C'mon Kurt, don't be a bloody coward. He ran at the gate, scaling it like a pro. He walked carefully, his footsteps not making a sound to the matron's room. Sue Sylvester was asleep, confident that the brat would no longer be her problem. How wrong she was.
Kurt crept in, gently removing the key from the matron's neck. He grabbed a chair, stepping oh so carefully. His hand reached the box, unlocking it without moving it from its place. He felt the coolness of the locket in his fingers, and he smiled as he removed it, placing it in his pocket. He then moved to the dresser removing a key ring, and crept back out. He ran back to the gate, unlocking the gate with the keys on the ring. He sprinted out, closing the gate behind him, and throwing the key ring and the matron's key over the gate. Kurt slumped against the wall, thinking out his next move, and that is where he fell asleep.
A fellow had seen the notice and approached Carl. "Sir, I would be interested in employing this boy." His name was Ken Tanaka and he was a chimney sweep.
Carl called the boy forward. He had caught the boy earlier that morning asleep against the wall.
"Please Sir; please don't make me work for him." Kurt pleaded. Tears accented his eyes, and the men on the council were sympathetic, fortunately for young Kurt.
"He will not go with this man."
Carl Howell was left a blubbering fool.
"Come on now! Look sharp!" Carl Howell had dragged the boy to the shop of the undertaker. Mr. Sowerberry had taken an interest to the young lad and wished to employ him.
The man was an older gentleman. He wore wire rimmed glasses, and had hair as white as snowflakes. "Is this the orphan?"
"Why yes." Carl said. "Kurtis Twist." He then went on to explain how the boy received such a moniker, as Mrs. Sowerberry walked in.
"He's small." She huffed.
"But he'll grow Madam." Carl replied.
"By our food and water."
"Please be reasonable dear!" Mr. Sowerberry said.
"How can I?" She screeched. Kurt was afraid of this woman. She was scary.
"I really must be going." Carl said. "Good day all." He tipped his hat and left.
Kurt stood awkwardly at the door, as Mr. Sowerberry motioned him in. "Come on in boy."
"Santana!" Mrs. Sowerberry screeched. "Give this boy the scraps that the dog won't eat." This earned a look from her husband, not that Mrs. Sowerberry cared.
Kurt was roughly pushed to a table in the corner, and handed a plate of scraps. At least it isn't gruel. He dug in then, savoring each bite, grateful for the food.
"Hurry up. Into the basement with you brat." Santana barked. Kurt looked up. It had barely been three minutes, and there was still food on his plate.
"Pardon me… but…" Kurt was confused, but then he was cut off.
"Hello, so you're the new brat are ya?" This was David Karofsky; the undertaker's apprentice and a holy terror.
"Yes Sir." Kurt replied.
"Aw, look at 'im, so polite, hard to believe he comes outta a workhouse." Dave taunted.
"Get into the basement." Santana barked. She opened the door and pushed him down the stairs.
Kurt landed hard, and pressed his knees up to his chest. Things had to get better didn't they?
"Eh Workhouse! Get up!" Mr. David Karofsky banged on the basement door. In what had become their daily routine, David woke him up, where he ate his scraps in the corner, before beginning a list of mindless chores that David set up.
"I'm all finished taking down the shutters Sir." Kurt said.
"Well, what're you waitin' for? Put 'em back up."
"But you just asked me to…"
David stood, advancing towards Kurt, fists clenched at his sides. Kurt ran and started putting the shutters back up. And this is how it was for a long while, until Mr. Sowerberry talked to his wife one evening.
"The boy has such a melancholy expression. He'd be a perfect mite for funerals."
"You can't mean adult funerals dear." Mrs. Sowerberry said.
"Of course not; but the children's'. The boy needs to do something m'dear. He can't be well from sitting in that basement all the time."
"It matters not. " Mrs. Sowerberry whispered bitterly.
And so it was arranged. Kurt went with Mr. Sowerberry, attending the children's funerals. Kurt watched as the proceedings went on, and found he quite liked Mr. Sowerberry, and the routine of it all. He liked feeling useful.
"Oi, Kurtis is it?" David stood, waiting for Kurt to finish his meal. He didn't like that Kurt had gotten chosen to go with Sowerberry, and he had a trick up his sleeve.
"You're just asking now Sir?"
"Don't push it Workhouse… er… Kurtis. So your mum must be missing you?"
"She died." The boy replied, confused as ever.
"That's good. Your mum was a tramp. She deserved all she got." Dave smirked as the boy's face reddened. He jumped out of the chair and attacked.
Santana ran in then, and in seeing all that was going on, knew that Dave had put his plan into action. "Oh! Mr. Sowerberry, Mrs. Sowerberry! Help!" Kurt had pushed Dave to the ground and was punching his face with as much strength as he could muster.
"Don't talk about my mother that way!"
The Sowerberrys and Santana were separating the two boys, David sobbing into her shoulder. "He just attacked me for no reason at all." There was a bleeding scratch along his left eye.
"Dave, find the beadle." Mrs. Sowerberry said. She shoved a raging Kurt into the basement.
David ran calling out, and forcing tears to fall. "Mr. Howell! Mr. Howell! Help us please. It's Kurtis. He's gone bloody mad he has."
The beadle crouched beside the boy, all business. "What happened lad?"
"We was just mindin' our own business and Twist just started attacking us. He almost killed me."
The beadle stood, and followed the boy. He knew Twist was trouble. Lads like that always were. Lads like Twist stirred up trouble just for attention's sake, not caring what they did.
"Let me out! Let me out of here!" Kurt banged on the door, hoping somebody would hear, as he listened to the conversation outside the door.
"It's the meat Madam. If you wouldn't have taken him off gruel this would have never happened. Mark my words."
Absurd! Kurt thought. Nothing to do with the meat. He insulted my mum. Kurt continued banging on the door . Sowerberry opened the door, and Kurt nearly burst out in a rage.
"Do something Sowerberry!" Mrs. Sowerberry yelled. David handed him the flogging post. He bent the boy over. His screams could be heard by everyone. Who chose to listen, that was another story.
A/N: The Artful One will be introduced in the next chapter. Any guesses as to whom? Cookies if you review. *Holds out plate of cyber cookies*. Until next time readers. Tif S.