Part X
Not all of the boys were orphans, and not all of them were abandoned forever. A few really did have parents out west, or somewhere else who were coming back for them. Parents who wrote to their kids, and missed them every day.
So it was not unusual for Kloppman to get a letter from Santa Fe. Not unusual for it to be a letter for one of the boys. What was unusual was for Kloppman to get a letter for Jack.
Jack had told many people that his parents were out west. It sounded far less shameful than, "My mom is dead and my father's in jail." No one gave sympathy to a prisoner's kid. It wasn't Jack's fault, but they still didn't buy his papers if they knew. Life's unfair, but Jack wasn't bothered. It's why he turned to lying.
The world looked a whole lot better when you saw it the way you wanted. Jack's life was so much better, if his parents had ditched him and were coming back someday. It was way better than the truth.
Obviously, he knew it wasn't true. It still helped though, Jack couldn't understand why, but somehow it helped.
But after the strike, the illusion had been dropped. Jack's mask was stripped away, and everyone knew the truth. Snyder had ruined it all. He had torn down the walls that Jack had spent years building. Walls that kept Jack safe from the shame of his family. Walls that let Jack sleep at night.
It didn't matter really; it wasn't like no one had ever lied about their pasts before. Half the runaways were really orphans, who didn't want to acknowledge their parent's death, and half the abandoned kids were really runaways, ashamed of giving up on their families, their lives.
The weird thing was, nothing changed. Sure Jack had lied, whatever, big deal. It didn't change anything. So he didn't have folks in Santa Fe! He was still a cowboy! Wasn't he?
So of course everyone was very interested when Jack received a letter from Santa Fe. Everyone knew that he didn't have family there. He had lied! Hadn't he? The rumors abounded; only one person knew the truth, and for once in his life, Racetrack Higgins was being quiet.
No one knew about Flame. She had left three years before the strike. Said she couldn't write to him. "What if the bulls had found the letter?" They were still after her! And as far as the bulls knew, Jack Kelly and Flame Sullivan had never once crossed paths.
The newsies knew that Birdy had left. They were there, most of them. Even newcomers like Davey had crossed her path. And Song Bird Kelly was rarely forgotten.
But Birdy hadn't gone to Santa Fe. That was too mean, after she begged Jack to return, or so the story went. Birdy was probably somewhere in Harlem, or lying low in Queens. She was a city girl, wouldn't make it in the country. Too much street smarts in her for the open plains.
No, Birdy wouldn't have gone to Santa Fe! Would She?
After his terrible day, plagued by bad headlines and haunting memories, the most painful in his past, Jack walked in and saw the letter on Kloppman's desk.
He took the letter outside, away from prying eyes. Jack prayed that it would be from Flame. Maybe she would come back! Maybe the bulls had stopped looking for her! Then another thought occurred to him. Flame was 19 years old, maybe she wasn't coming back. What if Flame was getting married and was going to stay in Santa Fe forever! Jack wasn't sure if he could deal with that.
Jack quickly slit open the envelope, and looked at the contents. Out tumbled two things, a note, and a drawing.
The drawing was accurate, if not very inspired. It pictured three girls, the first two , Jack recognized in instantly. The short stature, and bright red hair, immediately identified the first as Birdy. The other girl had curly brown locks, one twisted around her finger, Jack let his gaze linger on her for a moment, before turning his attention to the third girl.
The third, girl, he had never seen before, she had curly black hair, and freckles. The picture had a caption that had been hastily scrawled. "Birdy, Twirlah and Monica, Music sensashuns"
Jack smiled a bit, recognising his sister's bad spelling and untidy scrawl.
Apprehensive about reading what she had to say, Jack opened the note. Deep down, Jack did not expect to like what she had to say. He expected angry words, screaming off the page. He feared but was prepared for a tongue lashing like he had gotten the last time they spoke. Jack hoped for an apology, or an explanation for running. He got neither.
Scrawled across a page of note book paper, were these words:
Jack-
Meet Me at the station
April third or il soak ya
-Birdy
Jack dropped the note and ran screaming outta the lodgin house while his boys looked on with amusement.
REVIEW OR ILL SOAK YA!