TALE OF TWO BURROUGHS
Morey Banks never really did fit in with her family. Unlike her mother and father, she loathed the high class life. The dresses she was expected to wear were not made to fit one's body, but rather the body was manipulated by a corset to fit into the dress. It almost seemed, Morey thought, that the dress was wearing her instead of the other way around. But, she wore them. Because that's what high class girls do. She always made a point of putting up a fight though.
Parties were like slow torture for her. The only food was food that she was expected not to touch and the only drinks there was she was not allowed to consume. The only talk was small talk, and just about the most boring small talk humanly possible.
Her parents looked forward to the party on that late Friday night, but it had remained a secret to her until…
P.p.P.p.P.p.P.p.P
"Open the door! And please tell me that you're already in your corset. If not then we'll have a little issue here darling."
Morey scoffs. "Darling. That's new." then louder, "If I was ready, I would be out there by now!"
"I'm coming in!" her mother said with the door already open most of the way. That made Morey wonder if a warning was even useful anymore when it was already happening.
"Fine. You can help me with this cursed thing." She said holding out the corset.
Morey had long ago gotten used to wearing a corset. She didn't like it, just gotten used to it. Gotten used to the feeling of being squished in ways that no lady should be squished, and feeling light headed after the first ten minutes of wearing it.
Mother tells Morey to hold on to something while she laces it up to perfection- as soon as she can't really breathe.
"Now get on your dress! Tonight is a special night! A very special night!"
Mother was giddy as she threw the thousand-pound dress at her daughter.
"Isn't it just a party?" Morey asks over her arm-full of silk plumage.
"Hm? Oh. Yes of coarse. Nothing more than a… a party."
Morey stared at her mother. She had never seen her more antsy in her life.
When Morey slips into the dress, she immediately notices something amiss. The dress was low. Low low low cut. It was a navy dress with an insane plunging neck line.
"It looks good. Draws men in like moths to a flame."
Morey looks skeptically at her mother. "Uhm. of coarse mother."
"I am going to get Genevieve for your hair, I don't feel like doing so tonight. And your makeup. And everything else."
"Mother, I thought you only hired Genevieve for my birthday because she costs so much to work."
"Why yes, I did tonight anyways." And without further explanation, Morey's mother leaves the room and is replaced by the beautiful Genevieve Parkes.
"Hey darlin'! You ready for a new up-do?" Genna says with her strange accent. Morey gives Genna her best "when have I ever" look. The woman laughs a happy laugh that makes the world seem just a tad lighter.
As Genna brushed through Morey's hair, she got up the courage to ask a question she had been holding for a long time. "Genna," Morey whispers.
"What, sweetheart?"
"Is there, I mean…"
"Spit it out." Genna urges.
"Is there a way to make a living on the streets?" Morey says in a rush, as if someone would stop her.
Genna starts curling Morey's hair and smiles.
"What an interesting question! Are you just curious or are you reading something…"
"Just curious."
"Well, funny you should ask that. I know a boy who, not to long ago, became what high-society people call a "street rat". He calls himself an entrepreneur, which he is, in more ways than one. He wrote me a letter not three days ago saying how happy his life is, but how incredibly hard."
"What does he do?" Morey asks on the edge of her seat.
"Why, he's a, what did he call it? Oh, right. He's called a 'Newsie'."
"A Newsie?" The words sounded foreign in Morey's mouth.
"Yes. Selling Newspapers and whatnot in New York City."
"That's where the party is tonight, right?
Genna nods.
They spent the rest of the time together in a comfortable silence.
Before she left, Genna kissed her forehead and looked in her eyes with such a knowing look that Morey could have sworn she knew her entire plan.
"God bless you." she said sadly as if this would be the last time. It probably would be the last time.
P.p.P.p.P.p.P.p.P
The carriage ride to New York was long and bumpy.
Morey wanted to doze off multiple times during the five hour ride but her mother's nonstop chatter prevented her.
"Okay, fix your skirts, our stop is coming." Father says with a grin. Morey snapped out of her day dream and peeked out the curtain. A large house stood in the midst of a creepy looking neighborhood. The house had light pouring from dirty windows. The small patch of lawn was in grim shape. The trees were bare- it being winter and all- and the statues strewn around were broken and disturbing.
"Mother. Where are we?" Morey asks with a nervous tone. "Who's house is this?"
"We are in New York. City, I believe. This is the home of an extremely wealthy man. Do not make him angry or there will be extreme consequences." She said "extreme consequences" as if it were as pleasant as saying "warm chocolate chip cookies".
A stout man opened the door and motioned for them to get out.
Morey stepped out of the carriage as daintily as she could. Just as mother told her to.
The house was a grand fake on the inside. Pieces of glass hung from the ceiling in a cobwebby chandelier and straight faced butlers handed out masks and food around the room.
"Oh! A masquerade!" Mother said, not at all surprised.
She planned this. Morey's mind flashed.
A young man met Morey at the door and handed her mother a green feathery mask. "Er. Thank you." she said and put it on. It clashed with her lacy yellow dress.
With a dramatic bow, the same boy hands Morey a white mask. Morey felt herself blush as she thanked him.
"Hurry up!" mother snaps and Morey jumps and hurries after her.
P.p.P.p.P.p.P.p.P
About an hour into the boring party, Morey was called over to meet someone. A man, around 20 years old.
"Pleasure Miss Banks." He said charmingly enough and kissed her hand. "Truly a pleasure."
"Morey, this is Cameron Dilks." Mother said placing a hand on Morey's shoulder.
"And?" Morey looks at her mother with a curt look.
"He," an encouraging smile from Cameron, and her mother continues, "is your betrothed."
"Ha. That is funny. I think you've had too much punch."
Cameron's eyes flare. "It is true. We are going to be married."
"Mother. He's joking." her face was unreadable.
"No." Cameron says almost evilly.
"No!" Morey screams and runs outside.
P.p.P.p.P.p.P.p.P
Morey braided her hair and put on a hat. It was the first time she had ever worn pants and she felt awkward and exposed. But the moving was easier and more fluent, compared to bustling around in huge heavy skirts.
"Planning on leaving so soon?" said a voice behind her. She whirled.
"Oh. It's just a servant." It was the one who gave her the mask.
"Young boys would never talk like that. You gotta be rude. Act like you could care less."
"Couldn't care less." I corrected impulsively.
"See? That's why you will never ever make it out there. Someone'll notice somthin if your correctin them on their grammer. Most kids aint never been to school like you has." The servent walked up to Morey and tucked her braid under the hat.
"No one said that I could do this in the first place. You say I can't make it? Well, I'll do what I always do. Proove. You. Wrong."
"Okay, whatever you say." he chuckled and tossed her a piece of paper. Go there and ask for Match. Tell'im everything. Tell'im Taps sent you. He'll take care o' ya."
The paper had an address on it. "Thanks."
"No problem. And I suggest you get outta here fast. They'll be lookin for ya." Morey Nods and runs to the street.
"Wait! I almost forgot!" Taps shouts after her. "Avoid Spot. He's difficult."
Morey thanked him again and took off.
P.p.P.p.P.p.P.p.P
She arrived finally at a large lit house with shouts and laughter pouring out the open door.
She cautiously walked up the stairs and peeked inside. An old man sat at a desk checking off something in a large book. "Can I help you?" he asked her without looking up.
"Uh. Oh, yeah. Can I talk with… er… Match?"
"Ah." the man nods and looks up for the first time. "MATCH!" a boy around 14 runs in, still laughing at a mysterious joke.
"Yeah?"
"Someone'd like ta talk to ya." Match met my eye and grinned.
"Sure. 'Bout we step outside?"
Hope you like this chapter! :D luv you all!
=Quirk=