(End of August, on a Monday)
Well, the first day of co-op wasn't as bad as you thought it would be. And that's good, right? I try to reassure myself. I mean, you didn't make any friends, and barely anyone acknowledged you, but at least you didn't get teased? I think, a little less confident. Ugh, I really need to stop talking to myself. Now, if I can only find an empty room. I start peering into the doorways of the community center that the co-op is held in. Finally, an empty one! Even though the lights are on, it's almost ten minutes past extracurricular class start time and no one is in the room, so I think it's safe to assume that there's not going to be a class in here.
I walk to a far corner of the room and sit down, take my mandolin out of its case, put my earbuds in, and start playing along to a recording of Bill Monroe and his Bluegrass Boys. After about five minutes of fast fingerwork and aggressive picking, the song ends, and I take a deep breath and take my earbuds out. Ten seconds later, there's loud applause and a few whistles and whoops coming from behind me. I immediately stiffen up and turn bright red. I slowly turn around to find a group of boys and maybe three or four girls wildly clapping and staring at me like they've never seen or heard a mandolin before, and for some reason they're all wearing some sort of old-fashioned caps. I turn an even brighter shade of red.
Once the clapping peters out, a boy in the front of the group with what looks like green paint on his cheek steps forward and says "Hey! I'm Jack Kelly, and this is the newspaper club," and gestures at the rest of the group, which has now broken up and scattered around the room, most people just goofing off. "You must be new. Are you here to join this craziness?"
"Hey, we're not crazy, just a little hyper. That's all," says a boy with golden blond hair, and what looks like a lollipop in his mouth, who just walked up behind Jack. Two seconds later another boy, this one with bright red hair, jumps on his back, steals the lollipop right out of his mouth, and runs off with it. "Hey! That's mine! Give it back, Al!" he shouts, and runs after him.
I stand up and stare after them with my mouth hanging wide open for a few seconds. Jack doubles over with laughter. "Like I said. Craziness."
Two more people walk up behind Jack, a boy with a singular crutch, and a girl with long, dull red hair in neat ringlets. "Ooh! Do we have a new member?" asks the girl.
"I don't know," replies Jack, and turns back to me. "Do you want to join our club?" he asks.
"Ummmm," I say. Oh. My. Goodness. This could be my chance to make some real friends! I think. I mean, these people seem nice enough. I glance at Jack, then the girl, and then the boy with the crutch, who gives me one of the most genuine smiles I've ever gotten. "I guess so," I finally say after a few seconds.
"Great!" says Jack. "Like I said, my name's Jack, and this is Katherine," he gestures to the girl, then puts his arm around the boy with the crutch "And this is Charlie!"
Charlie smiles again, and says "Everyone calls me Crutchie though, so you can too."
I smile back, although mine a little more unsure.
"Those two back there are Racetrack and Albert," Jack says, and looks back at the two boys, who are now running in circles. Suddenly, the redhead bursts out and headbuts a really tall boy with neatly combed hair and a sweater vest in the stomach. "And the one that Albert just hit is Davey," Then he points to more people one by one and says, "That one there with the glasses is Specs, the one with the slingshot and really curly hair is Finch, the short one in the corner is Spot, those two girls over there are Sniper and Smalls, the one that for some strange reason is wearing all brown plaid is Henry, and those four over there are Mike and Ike, who are twins, JoJo, who is wearing the huge, lopsided cap and baggy clothes, and Buttons, who's constantly scratching his head. There are more, but you'll meet them later."
Just then, a rather short boy saunters up. "Well hello, hello, beautiful!" he says to me. I blush a little bit.
"Awww, bug off, would ya?" Jack says to him. "And this is Romeo."
"Wow, you guys sure have some interesting names!" I remark.
"They're nicknames," says Crutchie. "Hey! We should give you a nickname!"
"Oh, no. I don't need a nickname," I try to say.
But I'm drowned out by Jack yelling at the top of his lungs, "Hey Newsies! We got a new member, and she needs a name!" Katherine pulls me to the center of the room, and everyone suddenly drops what they're doing, and gathers around us. "Anyone got any ideas?" Jack asks.
"How 'bout Blackie, 'cuz her hair," says Racetrack.
"Awww, come on Racer. No one wants to be defined by their hair color. Take it from me," says Albert. "What about Green, 'cuz her eyes?"
"That's no better than Blackie, Al, and you know it," says Specs. "Hey! What's that instrument you was just playing?" he asks me.
"It's called a mandolin," I say.
"Well there you have it. We'll call her Mandy!" he proclaims.
"Woah woah woah, hold your horses there, Specs," says Buttons. Now that he's closer, I can see that he's missing all the buttons from his button-down shirt. That must be why they call him Buttons. I think. He turns to me and asks, "Before we officially nickname you, what's your real name?"
"Do you just want my first and last, or do you want all of my names?" I ask.
"How many names could you possibly have?" asks Albert in a snooty voice.
"Who asked you?!" shouts most of the newsies.
"Sorry," says Albert.
"My entire name is Patience Seraphina Isabell Kaelyn Robinsen," I say, blushing when I'm met with resounding silence.
Buttons look thoughtfully at me for a moment, and then says, "We'll call you Skipper."
"Why Skipper?" asks Finch.
"'Cuz if you take all of her initials, PSIKR, and rearrange them, you get SKIPR, and that kind of looks like Skipper," Buttons answers. "And also, I have a feeling that she'd rather skip saying her full name," he adds.
JoJo looks me up and down, and says, "I like it!" Everyone nods in agreement.
"Skipper it is, then!" Jack says. Then he takes the cap off of his head and plops it on mine. "I now declare you an official Newsie!" he shouts.
The rest of the newsies all throw their caps up, and start shouting at the top of their lungs. Good thing we're in a secluded part of the building, I think, otherwise we'd be in trouble for sure!