A/N- Well, here it is. sorry it took so long to update. its been crazy lately.
Disclaimer- why must we write these all the time? It's obvious we don't own the newsies, and we're not making money off these things. it's a stupid rule since people forget all the time anyway. but the newsies belong to disney. happy government?
Noise tickled my deafened ears with darkness only compressing my fluttering eyelids as the outlines of vibrant dreams faded and trying to rejuvenate them would be just as pointless as trying to capture a butterfly. Strange how to the mind dreams are so refreshing, even when I couldn't remember much, like sand sifting through my hands, each grain leaving before I had a change to analyze it. Not that it mattered much now- only the war between awareness and the comforting coolness of behind my eyelids mattered. I could not keep my eyes closed for whatever lay behind my eyelids forever, or it would lure me into thoughts I needed to keep chained away and sealed with a kiss of lies.
"Wassamattah?" I slurred groggily like a bumbling drunk. I had drained the glass of sleep and was feeling the full blow of it, and now there were no men to join me in a rousing chorus of 'God save the King'. My mind was already ticking slowly like a drunk's, because for a minute I did not comprehend why there was no heat from the furnace and only the overwhelming chill sinking towards my rattling bones like a tap dancing skeleton. Shivering I reached for the light sheet instinctively and wrapped it to my chin, trying to remember if I had been drunk and fallen asleep somewhere. Until the rushing memories made me all too acutely aware of where I was.
"Da savages are hungry," an irritated voice muttered in the darkness. The repugnant taste of stale breath welled inside my mouth from just waking and moaning quietly I rolled to my side, my eyes adjusting quickly to the darkness.
"How come ya'll wake before the sun? Can't expect ta sell papes wid nobody out," I queried and Camelot snorted from her place on the mattress, in a position I can't even imagine how she had gotten into.
"Think about dat question before ya ask it, Lani. Don't want to sound as stupid as the boys now do ya?" She must've felt my glare for she continued, acknowledging it was too early for proper thinking. "Ya think a bunch of lazy bums will get out da door early? Dese nuns give us a roll or two so we'se gotta have time ta catch dem, and den have time ta walk ta da distribution office wid being early. Some of da newsies don't have dat good of a place. Jack wants to make sure everybody gets enough papes."
"A place?" I asked, confused but accepting of this logic.
"Weah we stand in line. Some of da newsies dat got homes get spots in front of da younger ones, or da quieter ones, if dey can back demselves wid dere fists. Jack'll step in when things go too far but it's humiliating. And if dere's one thing dat Jack understands its pride."
"Embarrassment wouldn't kill him," I muttered, recalling the reddened face of my leader as I undermined his authority. "Woith a shot though."
"Lani…" she trailed off but I heard her threatening tone, warning me she wouldn't stand down to that kind of talk to who was probably a surrogate brother, and to who she respected for reasons beyond my comprehension. I hadn't seen anything from Jack Kelly but an arrogance disguised as leadership and an authority figure I had a problem with.
My heart leapt in surprise, skipping its own tune as the door vibrated. Something or somebody had been thrown at the door, but now quieter it sounded again and the door hardly rattled in its unsteady rusty hinges. I groaned and flopped onto my back at the incessant knocking.
"We've been summoned," Camelot said bitterly. "Go answer da door."
"Why don't you?" I snapped back, propping myself on my elbows as the door continued to rattle; now growing louder.
"Cause it's my room."
"Now it's both our rooms."
"Yer lucky I didn't soak ya last night," she growled menacingly and I knew I should take this girl seriously, obviously having a reputation of her own, but the earliness of the hour could be blamed for my eyes rolling. "I should've aftah how you'se been treating me bruddah and Jack."
"I can not believe you're getting so upset over this," I cried, crossing my arms but I knew neither of us would budge, both too stubborn and giving in would mean we were subordinate. We were lionesses thrust together, each invading the others territory, and it was too early in our acquaintance to see much else than a threat for female dominance.
"If you'se don't open dis door right now I'se gonna tan both yer hides! Maybe den you'll have a liddle respect," Jack threatened from beyond the door, a door I had once thought to contain a forbidden secrecy, as the doorknob rattled. I could see a chair propped under the doorknob to prevent anybody from barging in without knocking.
"Jack gets a liddle cranky in the mornings," Camelot responded cheerfully to my wary glance, weighing the threat better as she threw a boot at the door. "We're up! Now who's gonna answer for our guest?"
I smirked at her sly grin but graced her with the pleasure of it, both of us now feeling sparks of Jack's impatience. Adjusting her clothes for modesty's sake she strolled towards the door and purposefully boisterously removed the chair to allow our guest to penetrate our domain.
"Well aren't we a ray of sunshine, Jacky," I greeted as he threw the door open, not sure if I wanted to instigate him so early but I couldn't resist at his blustering look. His greased hair was tousled from sleep, his cheeks pink from the imprints of his mattress and his clothes wrinkled- if he didn't look so livid he might be cutely childlike.
"I thought I told you not to block da door, Camelot Conlon," he said heatedly, pointedly ignoring me and from her significant look I could read he wasn't truly infuriated with us but now wasn't the time to question him. Perhaps later we would know what that something else was that was bothering him but now we were the brunt of his anger. I loathed being used as his outlet but unfortunately my own pride took a blow since I understood where he was coming from.
"Would you'se rather da animals somehow found their way in my room," she replied calmly and seeing the flame rising feverishly added, "I know da boys heah ain't like dat, but Skittery's friend from Queens who spent da night I ain't so sure about."
"If dere was a fire…"
"I have a fire escape by my window and da likelihood dat'll happen is about one to a million."
"Don't block da door again. And dat goes fer you'se too, Lani, in case you'se think ya can pull one over on me and she can block da door instead," he commanded, sending us both stern glares to assure us he meant what he said. His resemblance to a neurotically strict father was growing but I held my tongue, not really wanting to hear a regurgitation of my actions last night.
"Camelot, yer bruddah wants ta tawk ta you'se before he heads over da bridge," Jack informed her, his eyes narrowing at my prominent grin and from the cinders of violence burning there he could read me clearly, but for once I did not care.
"Can dogs swim?" I mused and I was indifferent to Jack's jaw tightening with restraint. For now everything problematic was that I had nearly formed somewhat of an ally that rapidly I was loosing with my condensation.
"I think ya better take dat back before we'se find out how well you'se can swim. In blood," Camelot hissed in a voice softer than the sleek coat of a kitten. Venom poisoned my curling blood as I calmly studied her, observing her tensed muscles ready to pounce and the change in her eyes, not quite like the serial killer's her brothers were but with their own threat of fire just as heavy. I knew how to pick my battles well, and in a lodging house I was not entirely welcome in this fight could mean exile.
"Dey can swim well," I replied dryly, unsure how to back away without turning my back like a coward. I could be risking everything just to save face.
"Spot don't like waiting," Jack reminded her, purposefully breaking the tension, cutting the strings on a marionette leaving us with no idea of how to react. Her expression mirrored mine, trapped like a deer in bright light, but Jack was the leader for some reason and knew enough to avoid these useless conflicts that would only create trouble for him later.
"Well he could use some patience," she seethed, spinning on her heel with a warning look from Jack and leaving the two of us, his glare burdening me until I had no choice but to look away.
"Dis ain't woiking," Jack sighed and the weight of his words only a minimal signal for whatever was to come. In my mind his announcement of my departure was wrestling with other images of how I would be thrown back to the streets and left to face Micah a failure, not even strong enough to last three days with the newsies, who I had thought I had despised for their seemingly easy life. One lonely thought flitted by; I had no commitment to Micah and Bryce to return. It would be simple not to, and if worse came to worse to avoid these newsboys and everything else trains were not difficult to hop. The thought had always been there, but I had never given it much time, always thinking I could not run from everything forever. But I could if I was given the chance to start over.
"Ya don't act like da oddah goils, ya don't act like a lady should," he began, his voice surprisingly civil, only exhausted. "I've seen enough ta know ya lived on da streets, and I don't wanna turn ya back to dat hell."
"I ain't a charity case," I interrupted proudly. "I've been doing fine on da streets and it ain't no heartbreak to be relieved of you'se and yer bloody newsies. I don't need anybody. I can make it on me own."
"Are you honestly dat naïve?" he snapped, surprisingly emptying me of any words that were ready to spill. "Dats wad we all would like ta think, ain't it? Dat we'se fine. Dat we don't need help. And cause of dat do you know how many good newsies I've seen go off dere trolley? Addicts to drug, sex, some even going as far as suicide.
"I see it everyday, sweetheart. And yer headed straight down dere alley if you'se keep tawkin high and mighty like ya don't need anybody, if ya keep everything bottled up and dese ghosts of yers wrapped tight. Wake up, we all have scars, some worse den oddahs, but we all got em. We wouldn't be heah if we didn't."
"Wad are you trying ta prove, Jack?" I cried, sick of this way of thinking. Sick of this pointless lecture that should only be telling me I'm a basket case that doesn't know her place and should pack up her nonexistent bags and leave. This psychology had no point but to reopen a can of worms and to prove he was some almighty enigma that knew everything.
"Ya ain't listening ta me, Lani," he retorted angrily, the desperation in his voice just trying to make me see things his way. "I ain't saying fer you'se ta go like some milksop moping bout whatever has ya scared ta death ta face reality. I know yer type. I saw it in you'se from da moment I met ya. Ya walk around wid a fake smile and a strong spirit wid who ya are locked deep inside. Trying so hard to not feel anything so every emotion is buried deep inside until eventually ya reach yer breaking point, and ya snap. Ya break. Ya get insane. Why do ya think dere's so many crazy people in da world? Dere mind has snapped in defense. I don't want dat to happen to ya. No matter wad ya would like ta think yer a good person and dere aren't enough of dose in da woild."
I tried to wrap my mind around everything he had just said but thoughts were swimming and flashing, moving too fast to grasp any one of them. I hated him right then, for seeing what nobody else saw, for feeling what it seemed I only felt, for making me see it like this. It could be devastating towards who I was. His compliment, if it was that, only infuriated me further because all he was trying to do was make me see how he wanted. Like some dictator convincing everybody to see just like him. But when he paused I was too wrapped in my thoughts and was loosing my chance to speak.
"I could see it in yer eyes before yer planning ta skip town. Nothing is gonna leave ya alone. Ya think da ghosts aren't ever gonna catch ya?"
"Why are ya tawking like this? It don't have to do wid kicking me out," I said furiously, my mind too confused to be civil.
"It has everything to do wid it, and I ain't kicking you out. Not yet anyway. Ya gotta get ta da root of da problem. Do ya really think you'se would respond so sharply to Spot or me if ya weren't so angry? Yer angry cause yer holding everything inside, getting upset at da liddle things though they ain't wad is bothering ya. Dat's da main reason I was bout ready ta kick ya out last night."
"I'se smart enough to know ya ain't gonna change much cause of dis. I know how much dis is all bothering ya and yer gonna probably store it away. I'se just warning ya now how yer acting ain't wise, and yer my newsie and I don't want ya getting hurt. Trust me, ya will eventually, especially wid how you'se and Spot act round each oddah. I'm telling you'se now, unless ya want ta reach dat breaking point hold yer tongue when yer around him. He's capable of making ya feel things ya shouldn't ever feel."
"Wad do ya mean by dat?" I demanded but my question was pointless when I already had the answer. Even an initial introduction with him, without us saying a word, he made me feel things I never wanted to feel. It was his nature, a nature very few boys possessed, but some magnetism in them made every girl want to throw themselves at their feet and grovel for them to pay a moments interest before they would be left heartbroken, while they were just toys to Spot. I hated the bastard for that. I hated him more than any boy I had ever known. I didn't want to admit to myself that Jack was right, but the danger of Spot Conlon had been nothing compared to now. Even his resources, that he could find who I really was, was miniscule to what Jack was saying now. I could not break, I would not let myself, and I would not let Spot be the one to do that.
"I think ya know," he replied in a cryptically significant tone. "But besides all dat, ya gotta stop undermining me authority every chance ya get. Dese boys look up to me, dey respect me, and making me look like da fool is causing problems already. They're beginning to second-guess my judgment since a goil is getting da best of me. Mutiny even, or they'll start mimicking ya and den I don't want ta have ta set dem back in dere place. I'm telling ya right now ta stop because I'll forget everything bout not throwing ya back ta da streets if ya forget it."
Before my mind was about to relapse from the exhaustion of sleepless nights, and a few hours sleep had knocked off inches of my tiredness yet now my sleep was pointless when the exhaustion just crept back to me again. His words were more tiresome than any hard labor and any sleepless night, their tediousness too little to be safe. It was how I lived my life, how he must too. Never upset the precious balance or be thrown into a tornado and every last word and every last duty and every last movement would be contradicting with each other. Every last second would have thoughts screaming at you until you went mad. Thoughts that were so tiring but not boring, any word that had truth, was dangerous. In this life we didn't have time for it, especially when being caught off guard could result in death.
I felt the familiar sensation of the warmth of another as he squeezed my shoulder comfortingly, so close I could smell the stale cigarettes and newspaper ink. The stench was soothing somehow and I found myself starved for it, inhaling deeply and letting it flow through my veins like nicotine. I felt him jerk but he didn't move and in surprise found we were so close now my cheek was pressed against his chest. If this was a fairytale the moment would be perfect for the utopian soul mates, but Jack and I were everything but that and this was no fairytale. This was the hardness of reality and I pulled back, embarrassed.
"I don't understand ya Lani, why ya act da way ya do," he broke the awkward silence. "Just try ta keep at least on the boundaries of staying in line, yer me newsie and things are getting rougher round dese parts and I have ta make sure ya stay out of trouble. Or so ya don't start trouble fer da rest of us. Now get ready," he instructed wearily, running a tired hand through his hair when he had taken my silence for confirmation. I didn't have the energy or the brain capacity to argue, and right now it was better to just let it go. I would never admit it aloud but I was beginning to see just why the pompous fool was leader as I watched him recede through the door.
"Way to go, Let," I mumbled, throwing my shirt over my undershirt, silently applauding for my stupidity at letting him know all this, or to continue to assume he was right.
"Who's Let?" Mush asked, eyeing me curiously as he rounded the corner, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed and one leg pressed against the frame, coolly superior. Swearing under my breath I silently berated myself for forgetting to close the door behind my troubled leader.
"My imaginary friend," I teased and followed his raised eyebrow anxiously, just hoping his easy going temperament would work to my advantage.
"Dat's not healthy, Lani. Dey can be dangerous. Me imaginary friend Buffy stole me goil once," he answered seriously and I laughed, glad for the relief he was bringing to my burdened mind.
"Ya nevah had a goil ta steal," Racetrack provoked cheekily as he wandered by and as I searched for my boots I watched with mild interest as Mush shoved the scrawny Italian lightly into the wall. From Mush's glow he had enjoyed that. Maybe a little too much.
"Where's Patchy da Pirate?" I inquired casually as I forced my scuffed boots on.
"Bet ya a nickel ya won't say dat ta his face," Racetrack challenged mischievously and I flashed him a grin.
"Ya underestimate me," I grinned evilly and scanned the bunkroom for any signs of my free rent.
"Race, ya need ta get dat problem checked out," Mush moaned, but we knew he had no worry and was rather looking forward to it. He perked up though in a minute, way too brightly for this early, as he remembered something. "Hey Lani, can I get a goil's opinion on dis?"
"I dunno how much of a lady ya can consider me," I said warily, watching him nervously like he was asking me to jump off a bridge into a sea of spikes.
"Dere's dis goil, ya know, and she's amazing. I mean, I think dis could be da one. Beautiful, funny, sweet…"
"So who's da love of yer life dis week?" Racetrack interrupted wryly, chewing knowingly on the end of his stogie and I snorted but Mush didn't seem to hear either of us with the stars in his hopeful eyes.
"Marigold. Or was it Tulip. No dat ain't a name, it was something wid a flower…" he muttered darkly, his face scrunching in effort to remember and Racetrack looked at me with a 'told ya so' look. "Hope. Dat was her name."
"Hope's a flower?" Racetrack asked skeptically.
"No…but she could be one. Shut up, I need ta tawk ta Lani," he told him and turned to me. "But she lives in Coney and I dunno if her leader will want her dating a Manhattan boy. Wad should I do?"
"Well…" I began, unsure of how to react to giving sincere advice. I was so tempted to make a wisecrack about it or lead him askew like Racetrack's look was telling me to. Yet Mush is one of those rare few who have purity still in their hearts and it must be paining him to ask for advice and I couldn't bring myself to it. "Ya ain't a Brooklyn boy or a Bronx boy so I think her leader should be happy. Just pull da whole naïve thing, steal some flowers, and tell her leader dat you already know he'll moidah ya if ya hoit her so he knows yer trustworthy. Ya have to follow yer heart or you'll regret it later."
"Thanks, I think I'll try dat," he announced happily. Well at least it didn't take much to make somebody happy.
"Skittery's friend, Cliffer, poured water on da floor so Dutchy and Specs would fall," Kid Blink snickered, appearing by my doorway so now it was completely blocked.
"Are dey okay?" I asked worriedly, feeling a bit defensive for my brief acquaintance. "Cliffer's gonna get himself a soaking if they ain't, and I don't mean wid watah."
"Don't worry yer liddle self," Blink provoked slyly but continued once he suspected my boot would be shoved up his ass if he didn't. "They're both fine. Cliffer just had a grudge against him since he got heah. Probably cause dey stole his hat."
"Bronx is psychotic," Racetrack mumbled, shaking his head. "Don't know why Skitt's is friend's wid Cliff."
"Probably fer da broads. Dame's flock to Cliffer like dey go to Jack, don't know why," Mush answered and again seemed to remember something and sent me a stern look. "Don't be fooled by him, Lani. He's crazy but he knows how ta play da charms, I'll give him dat. Be careful round him."
"He don't have much honor, either. He won't think twice bout hitting a goil and he's less tolerant den even Spot," Kid Blink warned me and the cursed crimson was flaming my cheeks as I looked away, ashamed. No time had been spared for thoughts of last night but now the reflections only brought how childish we both had been, and I had gone against everything I promised to myself about not provoking the king who could claim my head on his wall, and had completely ignored the three boys precautions. I tried to only think of that but with Spot Conlon came dangerous territory only a girl who didn't respect herself or was a complete milksop wanted to trek. Like eating something that had upset my stomach something warm rose, soothing with the laughter in his eyes as he mocked me, and a wave of heat flashed across. Regretting remembering I tried to shake it off like water as I looked at my selling partners remorsefully, playing the part of wide doe eyes and properly ashamed look.
"At least ya ain't gonna push him anymore," Racetrack shrugged it off, as uncomfortable with receiving apologies as I was with giving them.
"Who said dat?" I instigated to add to their alarmed looks. Shooting a mock irritated glare at Blink I added, "Patchy da Pirate?"
"I thought I told ya'll you'se can only call me dat on Friday," he retorted lightly but I could see the flicker of aggravation.
"It is Friday," Mush reminded him and his hat swiftly left his curly head.
"Heah," Racetrack said calmly as the two boy's scampered away screaming bloody murder. I turned to him and he dropped something into my hand. A nickel.
"Thanks," I nodded appreciatively as we followed Mush and parrot lad towards the land of the unknown, hearing Jack's reverberating cry. It was strange being amidst a chaotic bunch of rowdy newsboys and feeling like walking through a desolate battlefield after the last gun shot was fired. Eerily quiet in my mind when every where else was madness. Yet as Race and I walked towards the door everything seemed to settle into just how it should be and for some reason still I do not know I was comfortable. Jack and Spot were standing erect and silent, pillars of strength amongst a worried current, and as Dutchy moved away Spot and I were connected through a long tunnel that separated the two of us in worlds.
His tumultuous gray eyes had gone cold, the flame of last night gone, watching silent and frozen with his own mesmerizing thoughts. He saw me. I was sure of it when just for a second something lit his face in a familiar glow. Apprehension struck the hour and waiting was the disease I was cursed with, rooted to the spot, unsure how to react but waiting with bated breath to see how he'd retaliate. Ever in control he knew what was happening as his gaze caught mine and we were trapped with each other, until he finally let us break away. It was enough to acknowledge each other. Any more provocation we couldn't take. Closure was the dose and it was enough to end the lingering thoughts and replace with a warning of the storm to come. It was enough. Racetrack nudged me and I felt those immaculate hairs on my neck rise as I tore away, well aware Jack was watching with a protective look, probably just hoping I wouldn't create any more trouble. It was enough and as I walked away only half listening to Racetrack's vents those piercing eyes became haunting. Haunting because something had sent his mind reeling back to the ghosts that he cradled. But as I left him behind all I could do was wonder why a glance was enough.
The sun shone with the warmth of the moon. Shadows of wrangled branches fell across the sharp cobblestone as I tilted my chin up to the clear sky hoping the fire in the sky would shed some warmth. It would never cease to amaze me how such a stereotypically beautiful day could have my bones rattling in the skeleton's final number. I needed the dirt that had accumulated to me for heat, my clothes providing nothing, only seemed to be tempting the October temperature.
"I wish I had a coat ta offah ya," Racetrack said sincerely with true concern as he watched another shiver overwhelm me.
"Ever the gentleman, Race," I teased, smiling thankfully at him and just trying to suppress my scrawny body from shaking. I really did not need their concern, especially since they were probably just as cold as I was, nor did I want it. I was used to looking after myself.
Life was lived in a dirty city where the smoke created a gray veil over the blue of the sky, where the prejudices of society had the innocent ostracized, where each day people with only a penny in their pocket struggled for survival while rich fat cats looked down their stubby noses. The city could never better itself until the citizens were willing, and nobody wanted to tip the precious balance, not even the poor. The scale of life was not meant to have the poor in the air and the extravagant on the ground. It was not worth loosing everything for a silly dream. But right now serenity touched our troubled hearts with a chilly summer breeze, lifting our spirits like it did the leaves. Our feet resting we sat in the only patch of green docility amongst rambunctious sailors, swearing and sweating as they loaded crates to the ships upon the harbor. To us, though they may be just yards away, it was a different time as we imagined the seaside of where we had seen pictures of. The waves crashing to the cliffs with the wind blowing hair everywhere, with the breeze having each blade of grass dancing.
"It feels like we'se someweah else," I started softly, breaking a blade of grass and feeling the sticky ooze of reality. Their intensity vibrated and after some time I continued, "Away from dis city. Somewhere clean weah we ain't breathing in smoke and running from da bulls. I'm gonna make it dere someday. I don't know weah I'se going but I'm gonna get outta heah. Gonna feel the wind and the sea spray and listen to laughter instead of knife fights. Wad about you'se fellahs? Wad are ya gonna do?"
"Yer a dreamer, Lani," Kid Blink sighed, his light hair swirling a pattern of disbelief in the world where dreams could not coexist with reality. "Didn't know it till now. Most of is nevah gonna see such a place. Most of us won't even live long enough to try."
"I wish Mush was heah," I pouted, needing to hear my dreams take shape with his optimism, needing to hear he had dreams just as silly. He was making his dreams into something more though, and I regretted giving him that advice this morning now. He was off to Coney, had been after half our papers were sold, and off to sweep his dream off her feet.
"He's right though," Racetrack agreed grimly. "Most of us ain't gonna live till den, probably not to twenty five. Not wid freezing, starving, disease, and fights."
"We could if we'se was rich."
"Dat ain't nevah gonna happen, Lani," Kid Blink declined morbidly and I felt the familiar flicker of anger compress against the walls of my mind, trapped as a caged animal, and I would not accidentally set it free again. I had made too many enemies, had caused too many problems already.
"Why not?" I demanded and I could not ignore the exasperated look Racetrack and Kid Blink exchanged. "Why can't da poor ever be rich? It's America, ain't it? If we woik hard enough we can overthrow Pulitzer, even Roosevelt."
"We'd get killed," Racetrack pointed out logically. "Nobody wants a reformed street rat as mayor."
"Some dreams are worth dying for," I stated firmly and Racetrack's patience was only what tied Kid Blink back from shouting at me for the nonsense I spoke. I was just sick of it. Trapped here forever, knowing these newsboys and Micah and even Jack would probably end up dead for daring to be poor. The rich hadn't done anything for society but deprave it from their selfish needs.
"Lani, sit down," Kid Blink snapped and I looked down in surprise to find my legs outstretched upon the tilted upright world. I hadn't even realized I had been standing.
"I don't mind da city dat much," Racetrack intervened between the glare Blink and I shared, connected nearly physically enough to roll a marble along. "Lotsa card houses, different people, and da sheepshead is heah and da women are beautiful. Especially da Italians. Now I know I probably won't evah make it rich but I don't mind, I don't wanna be like dem. Dey look dere noses down at me cause I'se poor. But I don't look my nose down at dem cause dey is rich cause they have it rough too."
"Yeah, burden me, I don't mind," Kid Blink spat sourly.
"They do, Blink. Why would ya wanna live yer life just for materials, marry for money, live and breathe it, nobody gives a damn bout each oddah."
"Dey don't when yer poor either," I pointed out and he nodded, one of the very few people who actually listened and judged someone else's opinion before their own.
"True, most don't. Da newsies do though, and some gangs gotta and families gotta. Dey don't when yer rich. How would it be to never know wad its like to earn yer own way? They're empty people, trust me, I knew too many of dem. Shells. Ain't alive but dey ain't dead either, stuck in da worse place, in between. When yer poor ya have a chance ta appreciate things, ta feel alive in fights even."
Silence. The weight of it grounding us to Manhattan as each syllable was weighed under inspection, looking for error in his words but finding only the purest diamond. He was right. It was almost ironic looking at the short Italian chewing on that cigar of his, but his deep eyes had the soul of a boy who saw too much and grew too quickly, who knew more than wise men.
"I think…" Blink began cautiously as he stepped around the shattered glass Racetracks words had littered around the foundations we based every thought of society upon. My head felt heavy with contradictions and thoughts, an intermediacy of radical ideas even my own radically different mind couldn't grasp. Pity the rich who did not know the aches of starvation and the hollowness of watching a knife plunged through a friend because of a bar fight. Impossible. Racetrack was insane. Kid Blink seemed to agree, avoiding the topic, it being safer to return to my first question. "I'd go anywhere dat would have me but when it really came down to it, I wouldn't be able to leave. Every memory is heah, in dis city."
"Which is a good reason ta get da hell outta heah."
"Don't tawk like dat, Lani," Racetrack scolded absent-mindedly and I couldn't be sure if he was referring to my cussing or my damper on Blink's words.
"Dere's bad memories but dey completes us, ya know? We aren't story book characters, there's some good and bad inside us all, and its wad keeps us real. Everything's a part of us. Do you'se think we'd be who we are without bad things happening to us? I know I wouldn't. But dis city is weah I've taken me foist steps, had me foist friend, sold me foist pape, gotten me face pushed into da doit, had me foist kiss, gotten drunk da foist time…"
"I'se guessing da drunk and da kiss happened da same night?" Racetrack provoked lightly as Blink's face split into a delighted smile, his eyes far away remembering what we knew not.
"Emily. Da summah I was thirteen," he sighed.
"Careful. You'll be as bad as Mush soon," I warned him and his face looked mockingly offended.
"Dat's wad I'se gonna call ya," Racetrack announced to us all and my head whipped around, hair flying in a dramatization for our Shakespearean play. Warily I eyed him, for once not knowing what to say as I opened my mouth and closed it again. Open. Close. Open. Close. Open. And still no sound could penetrate the walls separating Blink and I from the mischievous glint in his eye.
"Emily?" Blink asked in confusion and I reeled back, equally as confused.
"No, not Emily ya twit," Racetrack condescended before he forgot all about Blink's 'stupidity' and turned to me, in a joke I wasn't in on. "Ya think I was paying any attention ta yer ramblings? I was thinking of Italy. And den I thought of it. Yer a newsie and a newsie needs a nickname, ya ain't living wid Lani on da streets."
"Get to it, Higgins," Blink cried in impatience and I had to join with him on that, my insides writhing. A nickname could determine initial respect, saving bruised knuckles or creating them.
"Venice," he proclaimed happily and Blink and I exchanged confused looks. "It's a city in Italy. Me ma used ta tawk about going there all da time."
"So wad does dat have ta do wid her?"
"Because…" he sighed, as if everybody should be following his train of thought. "Da city is different from most places. It ain't normal. But in a good way. Just like you'se, Lani. It's beautiful, I saw it in sketches. People get around in canoe things, gonds…gondolas, dats wad dey is called. It's artistic, but creates trouble since it's right on da watah. You create trouble too. It's perfect fer ya."
"Thanks, I think," I said blankly, turning my mind over to imagine Lani a disguise I would shed, stained skin from a snake, falling to the carcass of some new animal I did not know. Was it possible to convert everything I was in Lani to a new, different name? It was what I had been doing all my life though, pretending to be someone else. Yet now my name would hold meaning, a meaning to be confused and twisted by others and some watching me in disbelief if the name did not fit perfectly. How could it if living up to 'being abnormal in a good way' would now always be in the back of my mind, careful to not lead into acting in a bad way. I was forgetting a name didn't change who you were; it was something I had read once long ago. When I still cared enough to hear it. "A rose by any other name would smell as sweet." Shakespeare. Crazy old fool. Venice I would carry for the rest of…a fortnight. I was forgetting my dare, forgetting all my resolutions about never getting attached to anybody. Now I had earned a newsie nickname and then I would abandon the newsies and leave. Everybody leaves or forgets to stay.
"A newsie name," I started tentatively, careful to not offend Racetrack when his name was appreciated. "Is supposed to be something like Cowboy or yers, Racetrack. Something dat ain't trying to touch on who you are and something dat people could understand. Venice can be taken da wrong way out heah on da streets."
"Venice," Racetrack replied with a sly grin. "I think Mush, Snoddy, and Pie Eater are all names dat can be taken da wrong way on da streets. You'se a newsie goil, why should ya care wad oddas think?"
"A street name is supposed to scare potential killers away," I said desperately, the name not rolling over my tongue smoothly and now was my last try.
"Sorry, I missed when Mush, Racetrack, and Kid Blink evah sounded tough. It ain't da name dats tough, its da newsie behind da name. And I ain't looking fer a black eye so I ain't gonna say yer a goil so it don't mattah," Racetrack warned, eyeing my fist warily and I flexed it for pure amusement as his expression darkened. Venice.
"I can't change yer mind, can I?" I resigned wearily and Racetrack's wolfish grin lit a match to Kid Blink's own, a rarity that their stubbornness would conquer mine. Venice. Imagination could do whatever it wished and Spot Conlon would be having his fun with it, but I had my retaliations cocked like pistols. Admitting it would mean defeat but with the way I had been acting my alias could be notches worse. Venice.
"Welcome to da ranks," Kid Blink congratulated, patting me on the back as I digested everything with a pounding heart. A nickname officially inaugurated a newbie into the make believe real society of street rats and newsies, how other boroughs recognized one of their own minorities. It wasn't vital to survival like the newspapers they ate but it was vital to surviving here, now. I had been admitted into their world and now that I was here I would be beaming if my heart weren't pounding achingly hard, in sync with my mind for once. I was no newsie. In a fortnight I would be gone and my betrayal would burn their faces magenta. I was no newsie. I was an enemy of the newsies. I was one of the few they wanted dead. I was no newsie.
"Wads wrong? You cold?" Racetrack asked softly sad as he watched me tremble. I felt the chill spreading throughout guilt rotten bones, Jack's lecture hitting me hard now as the color drained from my skin. Why is it that these things creep up on you when you least expect it? Lowering my head I tried to gather some control of what was happening but once again the reigns of control had been torn from my hands and I was left drowning and screaming but everybody heard only a whisper.
"Listen, I need ta tell ya something," I said quietly, my voice shaking just as bad as I was. Not even trying to hide the pain etched on my expression. I opened my mouth but no sound came out. Their curiosity was engulfed by their sincere concern as I fought an internal battle they all saw. I could feel the words rising, those stupid words that would ruin everything I had been working so hard for, possibly even ruin my life. As I opened my mouth again I was powerless to muteness. I couldn't control my mouth but I could control one thing. Escape. My sister had once said what a lady knew how to do best was faint.
A/N- well, don't know how that was. how bout ya'll review and tell me. you don't know how much i'd appreciate it. it's why i'm putting these stories up, to gain feedback and i would love to know how i could improve
Shoutouts
Reffy- heya dude! thanks for reviewing the last chapter, your reviews are appreciated more than you know...or you might, dunno. i love writing with spot though, he's so dangerous and amusing even though you want to throw a brick at him half the time. there will be a lot more of him in the next chapter. and more camelot. hope i did a good job with jack in this chapter and kept everybody else in character. oh,and some person will make a reappearance in the next chapter so things are gonna get interesting...i hope. haha. well, all in all i hope i didn't butcher this chapter too bad. i was in arush toput it up. love to hear your feedback and any critiques you might have. hope i did agood job and you liked this chapter, even though it was mostlyjust talking
Just Da Girl- huzza! new reviewer! i'm super happy to know that you like my story so far, hope i did a good job with this chapter and you enjoyed it. hope to hear your feedback on it. thanks for reviewing, its why i'm posting it up here is to hear what others think. thank you again.
