"All rise. All rise. Court is now in session. Judge Harborrow presiding," called out someone as Francis and I entered the room, handcuffed and being led by one of the policemen. I was angry, furious, with both Francis and the policeman. I could kick them both. Francis didn't look much happier.
I looked around the small courtroom and was surprised to see the mayor's son waiting, along with Meggie. That was it. I felt my face heat up. I didn't know she would be there! How embarrassing. I gathered enough courage to glance over at Meggie. Oh, she was mad. Her expression was hard and dead set staring at me. I looked quickly back down at my boots as we were led up to the front before the judge.
He listed out our offenses and then asked the mayor's point of view. Of course, he told the plain truth, which was horrible in itself. There was no need for exaggerating. Then the judge asked our point of the story. I spoke first, defending my position, and when I was done, the judge asked if I had any witnesses to prove my defense. Of course I didn't. I opened my mouth to tell him so, but just then I heard the doors creak open. I whipped my head around to see Jones sauntering in.
"I witnessed it, yer honor," he said, pushing through the gate and coming up besides us.
"Proceed," the judge said with a raised brow. Jones glanced over at me with an unreadable expression that was close to disappointment. I averted my eyes.
"It's like this, yer honor, I was just exitin' the theater, helping this old lady by carryin' her coat. Then I saw that boy, whatever his name is," here Jones pointed to Francis with a heavy look of dislike, "sneak through the crowd and try to steal the guy's wallet. Charlotte saw him too and tried to stop him. The guy figured out what was goin' on and caught the kid and tried to beat him with his cane, but Charlotte tried to stop that too and ended up herself with the cane. That's what I saw."
I breathed a sigh of relief and gave a big smile to my friend, but he only returned it with a cold glare before his eyes flickered over to Francis.
"Thank you, young man. You're free to go," the judge said, "Charlotte O'Neil, I sentence you two weeks confinement in the New York House of Refuge for resistance against the law. Francis Sullivan, your three month sentence is extended to six months for disruptive behavior and also resistance against the law. Move along."
"What?" Francis burst out, "How's that fair? She only gets two weeks and I get six months?"
Jones left, a sob erupted from Meggie's cold visage, and Francis and I were escorted out of the room by the same policemen. While Francis struggled and yelled out his defense, I left the room with heavy feet and tears forming in my eyes. That was it. I was a convicted criminal and on my way to the Refuge, just like a common street urchin.
We were tossed in a carriage and carried away. Francis and I sat for a moment in silence, tension weaved thickly through the air.
"Ya know, Francis, I thought you could run faster," I muttered. He jerked his head away from the window.
"What?"
"From the bulls. I thought you were street smart and could get out of anything. You said we had a couple days and they wouldn't find us," I explained, staring at nothing in particular.
He shrugged. I turned to him and spat angrily, "I should of never followed you! I should of stayed at the theater and Jones would of witnessed for me and I wouldn't have the crime of resisting the law hanging over my head."
"Oh yeah, Charlotte, like this is all my fault," he said sarcastically.
I huffed and crossed my arms, turning to glare out the window.
"At least you only got two weeks! Sheesh, you should be taking pity on me," he said.
"Oh, shut up!" I cried, "I didn't attempt to steal the wallet, you did! I didn't do anything wrong, besides following you!"
"Yeah, why did you follow me?" he asked, looking at me coldly. I gazed back at the window quickly.
"I- I... it was instinct! Sorry!" I said.
He shook his head and ran a finger through his hair. The daylight streamed in through the carriage's windows as we flew down different streets. I almost began to cry as I saw Angie's shop.
"Whatever," he muttered, "I'll be out of there before that anyway."
"Sure, Francis, sure," I said sarcastically. The rest of the ride was quiet save the sound of street rattling under us. Remembering Meggie, I slipped the cowboy hat off my neck and fingered it in my hands. I couldn't believe I had thought that after the courtroom session, I would be free to go and I could happily offer the hat to Meggie and everything would be better again. She was probably so disappointed in me, but hopefully Jones testifying saved me from some wrath. Oh, good old Jones. He was always there for me, always watching out for me. I could tell he didn't like Francis though, but that didn't say much. He didn't like any boys I hung out with besides himself. I knew he had good reason, he having been out in the world a lot more than I have. I looked up and caught Francis staring at the hat. Then the carriage came to an abrupt halt and I knew we were there. The carriage door opened and I suddenly felt like I couldn't move. But the man grabbed my arm and I was soon being led up the Refuge's gates, Francis behind me. As we entered the courtyard, I looked back as the gates were closing. Already I felt like a caged animal. They took us in different directions, Francis to the left and I to the right. I was mad at Francis, but I was afraid to go in without him. He knew about everything and had been here before, I didn't. And he was the only person I knew. As I was led into a bunk room, much the newsies', and twenty different pair of eyes stared at me, I felt incredibly lonely. They were all girls who were dirty, tired, and overall looked miserable. There were a few younger ones, but most of them looked older than me. As the guard left me and I stood rooted to the spot by the door, I realized these were New York City's thieves, pickpockets, and vagrants, not the chicks who you'd hope to make friends with or keep company.
The oldest looking girl and two others approached me, a sort of welcoming committee, or so I hoped.
"We ain't got any spare bunks," said the oldest girl in a surprisingly quiet, kind tone.
"Oh, that's okay," I was quick to say, "I don't mind the floor."
She nodded and stuck out her hand. "Name's Queen."
I shook it and said, "Charlotte."
That day, my first day in the Refuge, I got to know most the girl's names and talk to a few. They weren't that bad and some I actually got along with. They were like one big family, each trying to help make the most of their sentence. It wasn't that bad, really. Sure, we didn't have the best living conditions and everyone who worked there treated us like brats, but I found out that we would actually be working during the day and going to the Refuge's makeshift school. I, being a productive person, was happy to hear this, my mental image of the Refuge being sitting in a cell all day.
That night, the girls gathered around Queen's bunk. I sat down next to Victory, a girl who I had talked to before dinner. I listened contentedly as a few of the girls shared stories and told why they were there, and then the conversation unexpectedly shifted to a topic I knew too much about.
"So," Queens said while leaning against the wall, "You guys see Cowboy today?"
It me a second to match the name with the Francis I knew.
"You mean, he's back?" one of the girls asked, her eyes lighting up. I frowned as a nervous buzz of excitement erupted from the circle. So, he hadn't been lying. He had been here once or twice and probably more than that, judging from Queen's knowledge of his criminal record. I was blushing as their conversation continued from there. Apparently I was blind and Francis was drop-dead gorgeous. He was the macho, cool criminal who had even picked a couple fights with a high and might name that was unfamiliar to me, Spot Conlon. Unfortunately, they picked up on my confused expressions and launched into a whole big explanation about who Cowboy was. And they just called him Cowboy too. I sat quietly and listened, at some point almost laughing. He had a big reputation built up here, and I was half-tempted to shred it into a million pieces. And I would too, except I would be too guilty about destroying half of these girls' dreams along with it.
"Have you ever seen him, Charlotte?" one of the girls asked after they had thoroughly explained enough of Francis to make me want to puke.
I nodded, "Yeah, but not here in the refuge."
"Where?" said a couple of them quickly and excitedly.
"Selling probably," answered another one of the girls in a bored voice. I shook my head.
"Nope," I said, "At the theater. My theater."
"Theater?"
"You own a theater?"
"Wait, so you've met him before?" Queen asked, sitting up. They were liked tigers pouncing on any juicy information. I smirked and decided to relish the knowledge I had.
"Of course I have! We're frie- well, we're partners in crime," I said. It was the truth, we were. In some odd way. The girls prodded me on, demanding to know everything I knew. I started, but was quickly cut off when someone yelled out from the door, "I hear her!" There was a mad scramble as everyone made a dash for their bunks and the room grew incredibly quiet. I didn't budge, confused.
"Charlotte, get in your bunk!" I heard Queen hiss.
"I don't have a-"
The door swung open and in came a tall, heavy set woman with one cane in her hand. I stared up at her as she came to stand directly above me. She looked down with a frown and tapped the cane against her palm. I smiled.
"What are you doing in the middle of my floor?" she asked coldly.
"Why, sitting, Ma'am."
There was a giggle that was quickly muffled.
She frowned even deeper. "Get to your bunk."
"I haven't got a bunk, Ma'am."
She quickly glanced around the room, girls dodging under their blankets.
"Well, this won't do. Harold, fetch me another bunk," she said to the man behind her.
"Ma'am?"
"Bah, we haven't got any more, have we?" she muttered and then grabbed me by the collar, yanking me up off the ground. I waved silently to the girls as I was dragged out of the room.
"Stupid police. They think we have all the room in the world here for you kids," she continued to rant as we went down the hall. It was dimly lit with only windows at both ends of the hall. She led me to down the stairs to the ground floor and opened the door to a room with two beds.
"Here, this is the sick room. You'll have to stay here till we can get another bunk," she said, pushing me in. "And don't try anything."
The door closed and I heard it lock. As I went over to a bed and started to take off my shoes, I reached for the cowboy hat around my neck. My hands froze as I realized it wasn't there.
xoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxox
I'm not going to explain every detail of my two weeks. That would take too long and you would get bored quickly. I'll summarize it though. We went to school in the morning, worked from the afternoon into the evening, ate dinner, did another hour of school, then did whatever in the bunk room till the matron came and blew out the candles and counted heads at eight. I got to know all the girls a lot better and even made a few friends. The work was tedious, making household items for the Refuge like sheets and whatnot, and the school easy. Meggie came and visited me once or twice. I was able to explain what had happened, and she seemed to understand. She was depressed. I could tell by the way her eyes were filled with sorrow and there was no energy in her voice or body language. She told me that Henry was dying. This jolted me and drove me to my own depression. Henry was my only father figure and he and I had a good relationship. It was because of him that I had a love of books.
The day after I found out was my last day at the Refuge. I met with Francis at our usual time in our usual spot, which was a little before the work period ended, so we only met if we got done early. Yes, we had grown to be friends again. After a brief argument, we both apologized and forgave each other. The girls hated to see me talking with him, but they knew I didn't like him. He was only a friend. They were just jealous, and I had fun teasing them constantly.
"What's a'matter, Charlotte?" he asked, leaning against the wall. We were in sort of alley of the Refuge, a small gap between the males' south and north division buildings. Francis stayed in the north division, the dorm for more older and "vicious" boys. He was also a class three boy. Queen said that that meant he was a class just below the worst. It was some kind of ranking of behavior. I didn't know my rank, but I didn't really care since I would be leaving tomorrow.
I leaned against the opposite wall with my arms crossed. I hadn't told anybody yet, but the girls had asked about my moodiness.
I looked down at my toes. "My father, Henry, he's dying."
Francis pushed himself off the wall and was instantly at my side. "Whadda ya mean? Did someone try and murder him?"
I shook my head, tears gathering in my eyes. I didn't want to cry in front of Francis though, so I ended up making this pathetic choking sound. "He's been sick for awhile now."
"Awuh, Charlotte," he said softly. I was surprised when he put his arms around me, but didn't take a moment of hesitation to wonder why, instead I took advantage of human contact and comfort and buried my head in his shoulder and cried my eyeballs out. By the time I was done, we had slid down to the alley floor and I was leaning against his chest. We were late for dinner, but I felt so much better. Francis was telling me about the time he had to be separated from his father, which shifted my attention away from problems to his and gave me comfort to know that he really understood. Sitting there in his arms and talking about something we both experienced, I felt like I suddenly had the brother I always wanted, even the best friend I always wanted.
"Charlotte!" cried someone from the end of the alley desperately, "Charlotte! Hurry! She's gonna whip us all if you don't get in that dining room now!"
I scrambled to my feet and dusted off my skirts and then held out a hand to help Francis up. We both walked out of the alley kind of slowly. I was trying to wipe away all traces that I had been crying, but unfortunately, Francis's shirt was soaked and my face was red. It always got red when I cried.
I laughed weakly as I wiped my eyes. "Gah, I look like a watermelon, I'm sure."
He looked over with a small smile. "Nah." He was quiet now and looked like he was thinking, his hands in his pockets. I hoped I hadn't brought up bad memories of his father or anything.
"Thanks, Francis," I said as we were walking up the stairs to the dining hall. He smiled again and held the door open for me.
"No problem."
I think it was because of that day that we became really close friends. While we ate dinner, I realized that tomorrow I'd have to leave Francis and all the friends I had made here. Was it possible that I didn't want to leave? I guess. I was going home to a dying father and a depressed mother. Back to the lonely life of reading at my windowsill and making costumes for Meggie... A pang reverberated in my stomach and I suddenly wasn't hungry anymore. Victory gladly took my soup and I sat the rest of the meal in silence, watching Francis from across the room and listening to my friends talk. I wouldn't see Francis for another five months or so and my friends for who knew how long.
"Charlotte," Queen said, "You have to come back and visit. Promise, okay?"
I redirected my eyes from Francis to Queen. "Can I? How?"
"Come next Monday!" a girl named Candy said.
"Yeah! Monday! The governor's coming down to give a speech or something to motivate us bad kiddies to do good," Queen said, rolling her eyes.
"Is it public?" I asked, hope lightening my morbid thoughts.
"Not entirely, but I'm sure they'll let in a few kids," Queen said.
"I'll be there then!"
So there. I had something to look forward to when I got back. I would just have to sneak out, because I was sure Meggie wouldn't let me come back.
xoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxox
The next morning, I packed whatever I had and went out into the courtyard to wait for Meggie. I felt lonely standing there as all the kids rushed to school and breezed past me. I had said goodbye to my friends in the bunk room and had made plans for next Monday. I was just thinking that I hadn't said good bye to Francis whens someone tapped me on the shoulder. I spun around and saw him smiling sheepishly and holding a cowboy hat.
"Francis! You stole it!" I exclaimed with a smile. I snatched it back.
"Sorry! I couldn't resist. I liked it and wanted to make you mad," he said, blushing. I loved it when he blushed.
"You didn't make me mad, I just didn't know where it was! I thought I had dropped it or something," I said, "Oh, it's all dirty and wrinkled now. I can't possibly give this to Meggie. I think she'd be offended."
He laughed. I heard carriage wheels rumble from behind me. Both of our faces became somber. I gave him a hug. He deserved it, after what he had done for me yesterday.
I pulled away and shoved the cowboy hat in his hand. "Here," I said, "You take it."
He stared down at it, "You don't-"
"No, it's okay. I want you to have it. You can remember me by it, or something like that."
The carriage was parked behind me now, waiting. I glanced back and saw Meggie in the window.
I turned back to Francis. "I'll be back Monday for a visit."
His head shot up. "Really? For Teddy Roosevelt's speech?"
I nodded and heard Meggie stepping out of the carriage.
His eyes flickered over to her, then he quickly grabbed my arm and pulled me close.
"That Monday, I'm goin' to get outta here, and I need your help, alright?" he whispered in my ear. I drew back a little and shook my head.
"No way, Francis! You can't-" I started to stay. Meggie was fast approaching.
"Just think about, okay?" he said and tried to smile as he let go of me.
"Just go! Before she comes over here and rips your guts out," I hissed, and turned him in the right direction.
He looked back. "Bye, Charlotte!"
I waved quickly and then turned to Meggie. She had a snarl on her face as she watched Francis leave. None the less, I smiled and hugged her. I had missed her.
"Come on, let's get outta of here," she said and quickly guided me to the carriage. I stepped up and settled into the seat as she came around the other side.
"What was he saying to you?" she asked as the carriage took off.
"Oh," I replied, "just goodbye."
Meggie shook her head. "The nerve of that boy..."
"Meggie, he isn't all that bad. Remember what I told you last time you visited? It was my fault. I shouldn't of ran with him," I said, "He's a good boy, really."
Okay, well deep down he was good boy.
She huffed. "I can't believe that my Charlotte, the best girl in the whole wide world, was thrown into the Refuge. That's gonna scar your records forever. Forget trying to get into a decent school, dear."
As the carriage pulled up the our theater, the bottled up feeling of homesickness overwhelmed me. I flew out of the carriage and up to our apartment, anxious to see Henry. I burst through the door and started calling his name while heading to the room I was sure he was in. Peeking my head into his room, my eyes went straight for the bed. I frowned. It was empty, but neatly made. I sped down the hall. Perhaps he was in the study. Room after room I looked. But he wasn't there. He wasn't anywhere. Meggie came trudging through the door then.
"Where is he, Meggie? Where?" I cried, raking a hand through my dirty hair over and over again. I knew the answer. I knew it. I started to cry. Meggie came over and held me in her arms. She started to cry too.
"I'm sorry, baby, I'm sorry," she said, rocking us both back and forth. I couldn't believe it. I didn't want to believe it. Henry was gone.
A/N: I know what you're thinking: Wait, how come Charlotte had so much fun at the Refuge? That's messed up. Well, I did a little research on the Refuge and stumbled upon a New York Times article from the 1860s. The article was all about the Refuge's history and what kind of institution it was. It even went to describe in detail what the kids did each day. Everything you read about classes, north and south divisions, etc. is true, unless of course things changed dramatically in the 1890s. Truth be told, the article made it sound like that the Refuge was more of an orphanage or lodging house than a prison. So there's your little history tidbit. If anyone wants the link to the article, just PM me. :D
Oh, haha, look, a new little review button! Click it, click it!