I waited for him to break the surface and climb back onto the dock, Mouth couldn't be dead. After about ten seconds, he still hadn't come up, "Fer da love a," I took my cane out and handed it to Blackjack, then dove in after him. He was just below the surface. I lifted him out and passed him up to Rev before climbing back up myself. Rev laid him down on the dock and he started to cough. He had a ridiculous amount of hair hanging in his face. Blackjack handed me my can, which I shoved through my belt loop before rounding on the boy, "Whadya mean Mouth's dead?" I asked, straining to keep my voice under control.
"Where's my hat?" he asked, the nerve.
"Answer me." I clipped, using all my energy to keep from soaking him, again. I needed some information first.
"It means just what it's all ways meant. He got himself into a fight and forgot his own cardinal rule. I felt it myself." There was something about him that wasn't quite,
"Move yer hair." I said. He tucked it behind his ears and finally looked up at me. It was all I could do not to cry out. There were milky clouds over his eyes, with a red line running through the both of them. One of my boys, Twitch probably, skittered back and fell behind me, and from the looks of it, most of the others wanted to do the same. And to top it off,
"Youse a goil," I said to him, her, "Youse a blind goil dat found 'er way ta Brooklyn."
"Took you lot long enough to figure it out." She stood up, but swayed dizzily, her back foot threatening to slip back over the edge. I grabbed the front of her shirt and pulled her back out of reflex, realizing to late exactly what I had done.
"Ise," she cut me off.
"Look, can you find me a job or not. If not, I," her voice wavered, "I'll be on my way." I admit, I felt sorry for her; and there was no way I, or any of my boys, were going to let her fend for herself in the middle of Brooklyn with night half fallen all ready.
"Come wid us ta da Lodgin' House an we'll figure tings out from der."
"Fine then." Rev touched her arm and offered his hand so he could lead her there.
"If Ise may, miss," he waited for her to finish.
"Red," she said, turning her head towards him, "They call me Red. And thank you, but if you'll start walking I can follow just fine." Rev stood there waiting, confused, as were we all. How could she not need help? "Eight boys, even if they're trying to be quiet, make plenty of racket for me to follow. Besides," she added, "it'll make it much easier for me to find the way in the future." Not knowing precisely how to react, I did the only thing I could that would preserve my dignity. I started walking. My boys followed of course, but I resisted the urge to look back to see if Red was keeping up. I shouldn't have wasted the thought.
"Here's yer hat, Red."
"Thank you."
"Ise is called Blackjack by day way."
"Then thank you, Blackjack, for fishing it out of the water."
"Youse welcome." There was silence for maybe a minute.
"Hey, Red, where'd youse learn ta fight like dat? Ise ain't never seen someone Spot couln' hit." I gripped my cane.
"But he did hit me." My grip relaxed.
"It didn' even hoit youse though!" Before he knew it, the knob of my cane was at his neck.
"Do youse want ta get soaked, Specs?" I growled as Specs went paler than a ghost.
"It did hurt, actually." she said, a note of surprise in her tone, "In fact, it still hurts, but after you get hit enough you learn how to absorb it. If your fearless leader lets me stay, I can teach that to you, Specs."
I lowered my cane, "We'll see." Nobody said a word until we reached the Lodging House. I opened the door, stepped in, and was greeted by a dozen newsies asking a dozen questions each.
"Why is youse all wet?"
"How goes it, Spot?"
"Who's da dame with Rev?" and so on and so forth. I took my can out and banged it three times against the floor. Everyone shut up, and I saw Red's head whip around to face me. Rev was leading her to sit on one of the couches, perfect. I walked over to them and stood behind the couch were Red sat, twisted to face me. All my boys were quiet, waiting for me to speak and explain.
"Dis heah is Red." She turned and looked out at them. Of course, the whole lot started to mutter to each other, "Quiet!" They stopped muttering, "Now, Ise gots a promise ta keep, and Ise never breaks a promise. Red is goin' ta be livin' heah, wid us." I circled round the couch and sat on the table in front of her, "So," I asked, "what can youse do?"
"I can cook, if I know where the ingredients are. I can clean fairly well, though I do tend to miss spots." A small laugh rose out of the surrounding crowd, that I silenced with a glare behind me, "I could probably teach a few things about hand and knife fighting to anyone who is interested. I could always sell papers in the right neighborhood." even I nearly chuckled at that one, "Plus' she added hastily, "I know a fair bit about healing."
I held up a hand to stop the boys' excited whispering, "What kind of healing?" I asked, hoping she could do more than dress a wound, and even that was beyond most of the Brooklyn newsies.
"All sorts," she said, confused as to why I would ask, "I've splinted and stitched up plenty of boys after a fight. So long as no one cares that I have to touch what I'm stitching a lot more than your regular doc."
Looking around at the nods and grins on every boys' face, I really had no choice, "Youse hired." I told her. The boys let up a cheer and split to celebrate.
"For what?" she asked.
"Cookin', cleanin', doctorin', an teachin' if youse is asked ta do it. Anytin' else?"
"Yes," she said, "where am I supposed to sleep?"
"Right," I hadn't thought of that, "Who heah is willen' ta share der bunk?" I called out, several hands shot up, "Good, Specs an Tap, youse tow was da fastest, so youse gets ta share. Tap, Ise got yer bunk." I turned back to Red, "Der. Until other arrangements can be made, youse will take me room."
"I can't make them share." I was amazed, she was actually concerned.
"Its either youse take me bed, or youse bunk wid one of me boys. Yer choice." She sighed.
"Which way to your room?"
"Won't youse have a drink in Mouth's memory?" I asked, expecting the traditional 'I don't' drink' girls usually give, but half hoping she would say yes so I could find out more about what Mouth had done since he left Brooklyn.
"She smiled a little, "Believe me, I've had plenty." I took her to the stairs that led to my room. Before I left to go have that drink, she stopped me, "Oh, and Spot."
"Yeah."
"How many steps?"
"Eleven, Red."
"Thanks."
