Chapter 3

I was sleeping in the chair positioned next to her bedside, when I was awakened by shouts of "no's" and "why's". I studied Trousers face, and noticed she had tears leaving to identical trails along her cheeks. Why was she crying?

"Trous? Trousahs? Hey, Rosie what's wrong?" I asked her. She would toss and turn, laughing, crying or shouting. What was she laughing at and why were her emotions so different? It was like she was in her own little world—which I suppose she was. I repeated her name, over and over again, sometimes raising my voice a little. One time I got a different reaction. Her eyes lids fluttered. "Rosie?" I questioned. She moaned a little. "Trous, why is youse cryin'?" She sat up violently.

"Oh Spot! I keep seein' memories, just repeatin' ovah and ovah. Who started dat fiah, and why did it hafta take my fam'ly wid it?" Now I understood.

"Okay Trous, jus' lay back down now. Wese don' need youse hoitin' youse self even moah dan youse awready is." I gently eased her back onto her pillows. This girl was crazy. She was going to get herself killed one of these days. "I dunno who stahted dat fiah, but it could a jus' been an acciden'. I'm suah no one meant tah hoit nobody on poipose."

"Why though? Why couldn't God a chose a differen' fam'ly? Why did He hafta choose me? Ow. Why do Ise hoit all ovah? Whassa mattah wid me?"

"Trousahs- Rosie, do youse remebah anyt'ing? Anyt'ing 'bout why youse is hoitin' or why youse can' remebah dese pas' few days?"

"No… I just' remembah runnin' intah Blink and him callin' foah help 'cause I was hoit so bad." She got a confused look on her face then. "Wait, Ise do remembah a little bit. Ise was runnin' from some men 'cause dey was tryin' tah hoit me. Den one a dem jumped on me tah keep me from escapin' and Ise hoit my jaw and ribs real bad." She looked down at her stomach, which was wrapped in bandages. One of the nurses had tied one of her shirts up under her chest to avoid the bandages and still protect her innocence. She poked herself and winced. "Did I break a rib?" I nodded slowly.

"I believe youse did Trous. Da doc told us ya did anyway. Ise sorry."

"It's okay. I mean, it's not like deres anyt'ing anybody can do 'bout it. I'm suah I'll heal up just' fine." She smiled at me. Leave it to Trous to always be happy, even in a situation like this. "Uh… Spot? Ise gotta go… youse know. Like, Ise gotta go." My mouth formed an o.

"Uh, y'know, Ise don' know how tah handle dat pahticulah situation. Ise mean… Oh what da heck? Ise t'ink wese known each udda long enough as tah wheah Ise can help youse tah da bathroom. It can' be dat hahd can it?" I said, blushing slightly. Since when did the mighty Spot Conlon of Brooklyn help a girl to the bathroom? When did Spot Conlon help anybody except Cowboy? Well, I guess there's a first for everything, right? I walked closer to the bed and tenderly helped her up. She whimpered every now and again, but that didn't stop us. Finally, we managed to get her on her feet.

"Slowly, now, slowly, da doc said youse weren't supposed tah be outta bed foah anudda week or so." She was using my arms for support as she shuffled her feet forward. When she stepped on her left foot though, she crumpled to the side. Luckily, I caught her before she could hurt herself any further. "Oh, when I find out who did dis tah me dose scabbahs is soaked. No, deys bettah dan soaked, deys dead."

I rolled my eyes at this. Yeah, suah talk tough while ya can Trousahs. I chuckled.

"Sure dey is Trous. Youse keep t'inkin' dat."

"What? Youse don' t'ink Ise can soak 'em? Youse wanna bet?"

"Nah. Dat's Race's t'ing anyways. Wese gots tah getcha to da bathroom foist." We somehow ended up at the bathroom door. Don't know how, but we did. I helped her until she could stand on her own. "Okay, Trous. Dis is wheah Ise leave ya. Wese close, but not dat close." She laughed and clutched her side.

"Hey, don' make me laugh, it hoits. And get outta heah. Ise can handle da rest myself." She added blushing. I laughed.

"Ise know. And call me if youse need any help tah get back tah ya bed." I walked out and closed the door. I paced the room once or twice, got bored, sat down on the bed, sighed, got bored again, and resumed pacing. What was taking her so long? As I paced, I started humming to myself. It was the song we always sung at Medda's, the one about high times and hard times. Now, we were just waiting for high times again. I soon grew impatient, so I walked over to the door and knocked.

"Trous? Youse done in dere yet?"

"Go away! I'm taking a bath. I feel so gross."

"Trousahs, youse can't take a bath yet! Youse ain't gonna heal dat way!"

"Cool your horses Spotty-boy. Ise jus' takin' a sponge bath, and washin' my hair clean. I ain't gonna hoit myself again. Go bug someone else. Or, bettah yet, go call a doctah, will ya? My foot's killin' me, and Ise is pretty suah it ain't supposed tah feel like dis."

"I'll get right on it!" I called Racer, another one of my more skilled runners and birds in, and asked him if he could get Dr. Carheart to make an extra house call for us. He bolted out the door just as Trousers called my name telling me she was ready. We slowly, but surely got her into some new clothes and sitting up very comfortably against the wall. I sat next to her and she leaned her head against my chest, dozing fitfully while soaking my shirt with her wet hair. Geeze after a week of sleep you'd think a girl would get tired of it. But apparently not.

An hour later, Racer was back with the doc. Took him long enough. "Doctah! T'ank God! I t'ink she hoit her foot somehow. I dunno, when she took a step on it she crumpled ovah. Its da left one."

"What was she doing walking on it? I thought I could trust you with this simple task of watching over her." The doc shook her head and laughed. "But I see now that I was wrong. Should I get your pal over here to watch her?" I scoffed at that, choosing to ignore the comment and instead waking Trousers up.

"Oh, good, youse is heah, doc. I knew I could trus' dis one tah look aftah me. It's me foot. Ise can' walk on it." After a few minutes of testing it, the doctor decided the foot was broken, but starting to heal crooked. She had to re-break it and then set it. Trousers looked a bit worried, as if she knew how much pain she was in for.

"Can Ise stay wid her doc, while youse woik?"

"No, I'm afraid not Spot. You might try to stop me from helping her. Now, out. Shoo, shoo!" She said, ushering us out and turning to her entourage of nurses that always seemed to follow her. I sat on the other side of the closed door and waited with my breath held. I heard her screams and began pacing, knowing there was nothing I could do for her but sit and listen. After what seemed like an eternity, Doc Carheart finally emerged. "You can go in now. My work here is done." I followed her passed the Kirkbys who were wondering what was going on up there and out into the streets. I cleared my throat.

"Doc?" She turned at the sound of my voice.

"Continue along ladies. I'll be at our next appointment in a few minutes." I watched them walk away and spoke slowly.

"I- I'd just' like tah t'ank youse. Widdout youse I don' know what would a happened. She could a been dead. I'd also like tah t'ank youse foah not makin' us pay. So on behalf of all da newsies at 61 Poplar Street (which is actually the real location of the Brooklyn Newsboys Lodging House in Brooklyn) heah is wha' we could scrounge up and try tah make up tah youse." I produced a handful of coins which came nowhere near the amount we owed her for all of her troubles. I hastily shoved it into her hand and ran back into the house before she could protest. I watched out the window to see her slowly close her gaping mouth and walk down the street. Then I trudged up the stairs to check on how Trousers was doing.

Spot helped me up out of bed and led me to the bathroom. On the second step though, I toppled to the side. He caught me before I could fall.

"Oh, when I find out who did dis tah me dose scabbahs is soaked. No, deys bettah dan soaked, deys dead." We continued very slowly to the bathroom and he awkwardly told me why he was leaving me here… As if I didn't already know. I chuckled at him. I was surprised that after all these years he could still make me laugh. Not many people can do that. "Ow. Don' make me laugh. It hoits." I told him as I shoved him out of the room. He hollered at me to call him when I was ready. After I was done, I smelled myself. Ew. I needed a bath. I glanced at my reflection. Oh. I really did need a bath. I stripped down and ran water into the metal tub under the pump. Grabbing a cloth, I dipped it into the now soapy water and began slowly—geeze did everything have to be so slow with me?—to give myself a sponge bath. I winced a few times as I hit my now un-bandaged ribs, and avoided my side wound. I found some new bandages and wrapped myself back up. Man, getting in fights was painful. Somehow, I managed to clean my hair as well, and I dried it down as best I could before asking Spot to throw me some new clothes. He burst in right after I'd gotten my underwear and long- johns on. "Hey! You're lucky I wasn't unclothed heah!" I said, blushing ferociously. He chuckled nervously.

"Um… Ise already called da doc foah youse. She should be heah in a while. Need help?"

"Uh, yes, t'ank youse. It was gettin' kind a hard heah to do dis all widdout hoitin' myself again." After we managed to get me dressed, I hobbled back over to the bed with much help and we got me sitting up against the wall. Spot climbed up next to me and I fell asleep on him—again.

I awoke once again to Spot calling my name. "Oh, good, youse is heah. I knew I could trus' dis one tah look aftah me. It's me foot doc. Da left one. Ise can' walk on it." I told her explaining the situation. Spot was told to leave the room as he would just be a hindrance in them re-breaking my foot. As soon as he left and the doctor started about her work, I asked some questions to lighten the heavy mood. "So, doc, do ya evah get tiahed a hearin' people call youse doc all day? I t'ink I'd get pretty tiahed a it if I was you." She chuckled lightly.

"No, actually, you fine folks here at the boarding house are just about the only ones who call me that. I'm kind of thankful for it as you guys here actually trust me for being a doctor. Most people look down on me for it. Apparently women aren't supposed to be doctors." My brow furrowed at this news.

"Well why not? Youah jus' as reputable as me next doah neighbah back home, in Ireland. She was a woman an she healed people all da time. Do youse t'ink I could be a doctah someday?"

"Well, I don't see why not. Now, this may hurt, just a little." She said, as she painfully and skillfully broke my foot again in a way I didn't know just hands were capable of. I screamed and hoped Spot didn't just try to come to my rescue. She set my foot and I screamed again.

"Da woist ovah yet, doc? I mean how bad can it get aftah dis?" I asked her as she wrapped my foot up in multiple heavy bandages.

"Yes, I think the worst is over. All you have to do is heal. And it could be worse. You could be dead." Everyone laughed at this statement, and I winced.

"Ouch, doc. Dat hoits. Whoevah said laughter was da best remedy obviously hasn' tried laughin' wid broken ribs befoah now have dey?" Dr. Carheart left me with instructions on how to take care of myself, and that I shouldn't get out of bed.