Chapter One
Chloe looked around the dismal surroundings in her dark cell at the Refuge. It was funny, when she thought about it, but even after the Newsies exposed the Refuge on their treatment of inmates, things only got worse. Snyder just tried harder to cover up all of the wrong doings of the place, and he seemed to be succeeding. When the monthly visit occurred to evaluate whether or not the place was improving, he threatened the kids with no food, water, or blankets unless they acted content and well fed.
Her stomach twisted from hunger. It was very difficult to live off of the leftovers from other inmate's meals, seeing as there were hardly any to speak of. That little system started three days ago, when she got in a fight with one of the other girls in the place. Looking back on the fight, both the black eye that she got from it and her punishment, she felt that it was all worth it. She had never gotten along with Ash, but she usually had an easy enough time ignoring her comments, but on that one day, she was extremely sensitive. It had been the one-year anniversary of her father's death, and that had been the choice topic of Ash's insults.
Her dad had been a thief, plain and simple. Not for his whole life, mind you, but ever since they came to America. When they came to the country from Russia after her mother died, he couldn't find any other kind of work. America didn't take to kindly to immigrants, despite what was told. Chloe didn't remember anything about Russia, or about her mother for that matter, but from the stories that her father had told her, she felt that she was cheated out of a lot in her life. When he couldn't find work, he refused to let them die of starvation, so he took action. He had always promised her that one-day he would quit, but that day never seemed to come. He got mixed up with the wrong gang, and crossed the wrong people. And when he tried to leave the life of a thief, they killed him. Plain and simple. A clean shot in the head, and a nightmare for his daughter from then on.
But oddly enough, Chloe never felt bitter towards her father. The majority of the memories left behind were happy ones. Ones of them laughing and talking about everything: friends, work, and even boys. She loved her father dearly, and missed him equally. But the one thing that she did hold a grudge about was that her father had gotten her into the business of theft. Not the big time, second story work that he did, but petty theft: pick pocketing, shoplifting, basically anything and everything that she could get her hands on that wasn't hers, she took. And she was damn good at what she did. And that was what landed her here. With rats, mold, mildew, dirt, and smart-ass girls who couldn't keep their mouths shut. Chloe felt that it was her duty for the world to shut them for them. Many girls didn't like to go against her; she had learned many things from living as a thief. She was a ruthless and unpredictable fighter, something that helped her walk away alive in more than a few situations. And that was the story of her life.
Except for Jack. She smile to herself just thinking about him. He had been her only solace. Her own personal "refuge" in her sometimes depressing world. He was her big brother; at least that was what she considered him to be. He and his newsies had been quick to hide her from the cops, and talk to her when she was down or lonely. But even though she was good friends with all of them, she knew that, no matter what, she could always go back to Jack. And that was what she was going to do the second that she got out of the Refuge. Go back to Jack. Go back home. But that seemed like such a long ways away from her life right now, if you could call it a life. That was her dream though, and sometimes, it felt like her unreachable goal. Some nights, she had a dream that felt so real; felt that if she could only reach out far enough, she could touch him. If she could only find her voice, she could talk to him. Just being with him would be enough. It was hell for her to wake up, and realize that he might as well be in Santa Fe, he felt so far away. But he was the one thing that kept her alive, thriving, and never giving up without a fight.
She had met him when running from the cops. She was clumsy when cleaning a guy out; he sneezed, and took her hand out of his pocket instead of his handkerchief. Jack had taken her to the Manhattan Newsie lodging house, and given her a place to stay for the night, no questions asked. She loved him so much it hurt, the love of a sister for her brother, and she missed him. She often wondered if he thought of her as much as she thought of him. Deciding that it was too depressing a reality to think other wise, she believed he did. But she remembered him all right. His quick need to help others, and equally quick smile. His tough guy attitude he tried to impose on people, even though he was a softy at heart. He was the total opposite of her, and that's probably why she loved him so much.
Chloe looked around the dismal surroundings in her dark cell at the Refuge. It was funny, when she thought about it, but even after the Newsies exposed the Refuge on their treatment of inmates, things only got worse. Snyder just tried harder to cover up all of the wrong doings of the place, and he seemed to be succeeding. When the monthly visit occurred to evaluate whether or not the place was improving, he threatened the kids with no food, water, or blankets unless they acted content and well fed.
Her stomach twisted from hunger. It was very difficult to live off of the leftovers from other inmate's meals, seeing as there were hardly any to speak of. That little system started three days ago, when she got in a fight with one of the other girls in the place. Looking back on the fight, both the black eye that she got from it and her punishment, she felt that it was all worth it. She had never gotten along with Ash, but she usually had an easy enough time ignoring her comments, but on that one day, she was extremely sensitive. It had been the one-year anniversary of her father's death, and that had been the choice topic of Ash's insults.
Her dad had been a thief, plain and simple. Not for his whole life, mind you, but ever since they came to America. When they came to the country from Russia after her mother died, he couldn't find any other kind of work. America didn't take to kindly to immigrants, despite what was told. Chloe didn't remember anything about Russia, or about her mother for that matter, but from the stories that her father had told her, she felt that she was cheated out of a lot in her life. When he couldn't find work, he refused to let them die of starvation, so he took action. He had always promised her that one-day he would quit, but that day never seemed to come. He got mixed up with the wrong gang, and crossed the wrong people. And when he tried to leave the life of a thief, they killed him. Plain and simple. A clean shot in the head, and a nightmare for his daughter from then on.
But oddly enough, Chloe never felt bitter towards her father. The majority of the memories left behind were happy ones. Ones of them laughing and talking about everything: friends, work, and even boys. She loved her father dearly, and missed him equally. But the one thing that she did hold a grudge about was that her father had gotten her into the business of theft. Not the big time, second story work that he did, but petty theft: pick pocketing, shoplifting, basically anything and everything that she could get her hands on that wasn't hers, she took. And she was damn good at what she did. And that was what landed her here. With rats, mold, mildew, dirt, and smart-ass girls who couldn't keep their mouths shut. Chloe felt that it was her duty for the world to shut them for them. Many girls didn't like to go against her; she had learned many things from living as a thief. She was a ruthless and unpredictable fighter, something that helped her walk away alive in more than a few situations. And that was the story of her life.
Except for Jack. She smile to herself just thinking about him. He had been her only solace. Her own personal "refuge" in her sometimes depressing world. He was her big brother; at least that was what she considered him to be. He and his newsies had been quick to hide her from the cops, and talk to her when she was down or lonely. But even though she was good friends with all of them, she knew that, no matter what, she could always go back to Jack. And that was what she was going to do the second that she got out of the Refuge. Go back to Jack. Go back home. But that seemed like such a long ways away from her life right now, if you could call it a life. That was her dream though, and sometimes, it felt like her unreachable goal. Some nights, she had a dream that felt so real; felt that if she could only reach out far enough, she could touch him. If she could only find her voice, she could talk to him. Just being with him would be enough. It was hell for her to wake up, and realize that he might as well be in Santa Fe, he felt so far away. But he was the one thing that kept her alive, thriving, and never giving up without a fight.
She had met him when running from the cops. She was clumsy when cleaning a guy out; he sneezed, and took her hand out of his pocket instead of his handkerchief. Jack had taken her to the Manhattan Newsie lodging house, and given her a place to stay for the night, no questions asked. She loved him so much it hurt, the love of a sister for her brother, and she missed him. She often wondered if he thought of her as much as she thought of him. Deciding that it was too depressing a reality to think other wise, she believed he did. But she remembered him all right. His quick need to help others, and equally quick smile. His tough guy attitude he tried to impose on people, even though he was a softy at heart. He was the total opposite of her, and that's probably why she loved him so much.