The morning sunlight crept in through the window slit, accompanied by the peaceful chirping of the morning birds. And to the singing of their melodies, Samantha awoke. Rubbing her eyes till they puffed red, she grouchily sat up on her bed, trying to wipe away the drool on her left cheek.
That was…. horrible. Yeesh.
Her sleepy mind was still cringing from the seemingly normal but horrifying dream that shook her world.
She… she had dreamt that she met that boy again…. And he was climbing up her treehouse…And oh boy, he was knocking on her freaking window…And… And… He had a smug look on his face, saying something but it was all muffled to hear clearly. But Sam didn't need to hear him; she could well understand what his mouth was saying….
SPOILED BRAT.
Yes, that was what that Kelly boy said. In her dream, anyway. And Sam's heart was still pounding uncontrollably from the vivid dream.
For no absolute reason at all, she shrank deeper in shame as her mind was cleared of the sleepiness to make room to remember events of last night. After the excitement of last night had worn off, realization dawned on her. She had unleashed her tongue on him in anger without any thoughtfulness whatsoever. She had torturing thoughts of this Jack Kelly mocking at her small knowledge, or her clumsiness when she couldn't keep her sneeze to herself.
Oh it was all unbearable!
She tried to recall exact details of every word that came out of her tongue the night before, perhaps that will give a bit consolation to her troubled mind. Were there any childish sarcasm she acted? Was she able to hit the point with certain surety or was she inarticulate, again like in English Class? Would any of her actions reveal how badly inadequate of manners she is, as a high-class 16-year-old? Most importantly, did she really make sure this boy didn't know her name?
Because like, if he didn't know her name, rest assured for Sam's troubled conscience of her parents ever finding out about last night. If he didn't know her name, she could simply shake him off her memory. Because if he was so lowly enough to try and blackmail her, would her father believe a lying little scamp over his own daughter insisting she has never ever sneaked out of the house?
For a fraction of a second, the thought successfully gave her momentary happiness before her mind had to go back to more depressing subjects.
No, she was not going to let this stupid dream ruin her bright day. She had a whole day of amusement to look forward to – aka listening to Pitty Parker whimper on and on about the disgusting vandalism on her house last night. Yes, Samantha's day needed her full attention. And she can't be bothered wasting it on some newsie with an interesting accent she barely cared about.
Interesting accent. Just interesting.
But the mere idea that he was probably laughing at her right now, at her stupidity, at her ignorance. Suppose he was jeering at her? Why, he would probably be telling his fellas about the spoiled, stupid, selfish brat he met last night.
Oh, but what did she care?
On the other side of Manhattan, the News Boys' Lodging House was already starting to buzz-a-bustle busily as a new day started to dawn. Kloppman's wake-up call was an effective one, no matter how hard the grouchy heads may try to resist. The tapping of the old man's cane against the wooden floor was becoming rhythmic as he went from bunk to bunk, yelling inside the unsuspecting ears of boys sound asleep.
"Wake-y, wake-y! The sun's shining, the streets' sauntering, and now git outta here,"
His voice was successfully ringing aloud in the room, initiating sleepy groans and the creaking beds.
Mr. Kloppman made his way to the familiar area between two bunks of his favorite boys. Favorite might not be the right word. Ah, handful, it is. Although there's no telling who was more difficult to control, because, well, they're practically all difficult. And on this fine morning, as usual, his eyes immediately fell on the stuck-out butt on the bottom bunk on the right. With a tut-tut of his tongue and a slight push of his cane, he got the poor boy falling out of the bed, landing his face flat onto the floor with a loud thud.
"Ow!" the boy said, with a very heavy Italian accent, "Don't ya know yer ain't got not right pushin' people out of bed that way?" Race sat upright on the floor, rubbing his red cheek with a childish glare.
Kloppman just merely laughed heartily at this reproach. He had found out, after more than 50 years of running the House, not to take seriously of any child who had been disrupted of their sleep. Especially these boys. And especially this boy.
"That is, what, the 70th time?" Kloppman asked ahead, before the boy would announce his usual count of mornings he had woken up kissing the floor.
"73." Race corrected.
Mush, from the top bunk above Race's, popped his head up, snickering. "Jeez, Race, I'll get you a cute chic to kiss, if you's desperate. For da sake of us all, stahp gitting your tongue all 'ver da place!"
All the boys who were rubbing their eyes sleepily started to burst out into gales of laughter. Race himself leapt up to grab his bunkmate by the front of the shirt. Mush quickly raised both his hands up in early defeat – although he had quite a difficult time trying to keep a serious face.
"Alrigh', git off," Kloppman dragged a wriggling Race away from a violently giggling Mush. The old man's eyes fell onto the neighboring bunk, where black little arms were squeezing the pillow over his head, trying to cover his ears and block out everything.
"Boots!" Kloppman tried to grab the pillow away, but found it tightly grasped. The old man tried again, and this time, an insistent groan followed from under. Finally, for the third time Kloppman snatched the pillow away successfully. Boots sat up, stretching his arms wide with continual yawns.
"Ya dreamin' of sellin' papes?" Kloppman slapped the back of Boots' head with a cheerful grin.
"Not this time, Kloppsies. I's had no blink o' sleep all night."
"What's the matter, eh?"
"Some big elephant couldn't stahp rollin' da whole time," Boots pointed up above his head.
"Well, that's unheard of," Kloppman muttered, straightening his back to wake the boy on the top bunk.
"Howdy, cowboy," he said to the boy who had given his backside to the old man. But the figure of the big boy just moved rhythmically in pace of his slow leisurely breaths, unresponding to Kloppman's insistent attempts.
"You know I know you ain't asleep, boy," Kloppman warned before snatching the boy's blanket away.
The boy let out an annoyed groan as he tried to retreat his blanket back, but Kloppman merely chortled teasingly. The man threw the blanket onto Boots' head below, who let out a muffled yell of surprise.
"Gimme that," Jack said with an exasperated tone, "I's had no sleep nudder,"
"Tha' makes the two o' us," Boots agreed sarcastically as he got rid of the blanket off his head and out of his bunk.
"Why haven't yer had no sleep then? Well, doesn't matter, now git up if ye wanna keep your heads, y'all running late!" And with that the old man moved onto the next bunks. But not before moving back to Jack's bunk when he saw the boy hadn't gotten out of bed yet and knocking the boy's head with his cane.
"And I mean it!"
The truth was…. Sam did.
And how she shivered from the thought even in the warm sunlight's presence…
Only then did she notice she was still on the floor – and not her comfortable bed. The water bucket and the towel was still there near her, and she remembered how she had slept without putting them back. She scrambled up hurriedly, picking up the things to head to the bathroom where they belonged.
Thank goodness Mama hadn't come to wake me up.
She stopped dead in her tracks, her left foot raised up mid-air. She glanced at the table-clock beside her bed – why, the shorter hand was already pointing at 7! Her mother always woke her up before 6 even though Sam's school wasn't supposed to start until nine. The reason behind that was because Sam took at least 2 hours to wake up. Oh well. Never mind about that.
With a very confused head which hardly ever tried to understand, she now continued to walk slowly towards the bathroom. She couldn't figure out why her mother wouldn't come wake her up today. Well, Sam actually was glad about it though. Of all things, she wouldn't know how to explain her sleeping on the bedroom floor to her mother. So that was one good thing… although Sam was worried now. Her mother never failed to wake her up each morning – ever since Sam moved into her own room from the nursery. Not one single day. Not even when Baby Constance* was born. And now, this absence made her feel awkwardly empty inside.
After she had gotten into her school uniform, and combed her hair up neatly into a low ponytail, tied with a blue ribbon of her school color, she light-heartedly went downstairs – skipping two steps at a time as she expected her day to be full of amazing things to come. Well, first, she had Pitty Parker's wails and whines to look forward to… And that was practically her plans of the day… Sometimes, Sam wondered if her school life actually revolved only around taunting her feminine rival, rather than making plans and meeting up with her girlfriends.
No matter. Seeing Pitty Parker in a distraught shall be enough entertainment for me.
However, when she arrived at the breakfast table that morning, she was joined by her little brother, and her sister and the tedious fiancé. Sam stopped uncertainly, her face pulled up in confusion.
"What's he doing here?"
Her sister, Edith, gave a disapproving glance at the tolerably rude question of her younger sister. In the awkward silence that followed (actually silence followed whenever Sam raised a question concerning Edith's fiancé) Ralphie spoke up in answer to his sister's question.
"Mama's sick today. So Edith and Toad –" There was a hush of drawing breaths, especially Sam, who widened her eyes in warning to her brother, who seemed to get the message immediately, "I mean, Tom – is sending us to school."
The two adults seemed to be nonchalant over the incident, the older girl still plastered her sweet smile and the guy staring at the floor with his ears tinting red. Ralph looked at them one by one, and gave an innocence giggle at his glaring sister who still had not taken her seat at the table.
"Well then, why can't we have Devon drive us?" Sam questioned, not wanting to spend any more time around her sister and the fiancé than was necessary. And may it be noted that this question was rather directed solely towards her brother, whom she seems to think is the only living being in the room as she completely wished to neglect the other two. Her sister knew of this, but equally ignored the younger girl's outright manners.
"Devon is sent to fetch the doctor, and he is to be tending to Father's orders while Mother lies sick," Edith stated coolly as she took a sip from her teacup without looking up at Sam.
Knowing there was no way of getting out of it, Sam decided to simply go with the matter and make everyone miserable. It had always been her habit – either she gets her way of doing things, or she makes others miserable.
"Of all the things we have to go through-" she started as she aggressively sat down for breakfast.
"Now Samantha, you will not be saying no more word about it and have your breakfast quietly." Edith cut her off with a sharp reprimand which often had a silencing effect on both her younger siblings. And this morning, Sam's mouth opened uncertainly for a while at this abrupt treatment but she stood up angrily.
"Well, I'm sorry, but I will not have you telling me what to do, because you're no longer my sister, remember?"
And with that, Sam stormed out of the dining room – her breakfast still untouched, her little brother fidgeting in his seat.
Down the corridors she ran so fast, not willing to let the teardrops fall down her cheeks – not at least in the sight of Edith and that terrible toad. As she reached the corner of her parents' bedroom, Sam stopped, standing there and trying to still her hiccups. She wanted to see her mother, but it would do no good for her to see just how bad things had turned out right from the morning.
Oh but they should have known.
Yes, they should have known to not let Edith and that toad to send her to school. Not when Sam couldn't stand a minute in their presence, and she was sure they couldn't either.
Rearranging her appearance to look fit for her mother, Sam turned the corner, instantly encountered by Devon, their chauffeur. He gave a sincere nod at her, she returned with a small smile, and knocked on the door which rang its echoes down the silent corridor.
She went in, her footsteps slowly carrying her to the big canopy bed in the far off center. She could see her mother's figure sleeping, beside the bed sat her father in his pajamas.
That doesn't seem right.
Her brain cells screamed at her. Something was wrong. Her father never appeared in anything but formal suit. Now he was sitting there in his pajamas, his hair disheveled and his eyes sunken from a night's lack of sleep. In just 24 hours, it seemed her father had aged into a 90-year-old man.
He looked up at her, she looked at him back with worry that matched his.
"Sam, aren't you supposed to be at school by now?" he furrowed his eyes disapprovingly. His daughter merely shrugged off, shuffling her feet meekly.
"How's Mama?" she enquired, biting her lips.
"She is fine. Just a little stomach bug from yesterday's tea. Now hurry along, you're going to be late for school." He waved his hand away absent-mindedly, and Sam was taken aback, although she did take an uncertain step backward. The pain of her heart must have been visible upon her face, though (and plus, add a little puffiness in her red cheeks and swollen eyes from crying), for Joseph Pulitzer retreated his words back.
"Wait, why don't you come greet your mother?"
He needn't have asked twice, the young wild one was sat by her mother's bedside the next second.
"Careful, now," her father let out a chortle at her eagerness. She returned it with a bright grin before turning to her mother's soft features.
"Morning, Mama," Sam whispered, kissing her mother's both cheeks wildly and lovingly.
"Now, don't wake her up, she needs her rest," her father placed a restraining hand on Sam's shoulder. She nodded, stood up to leave when a voice from her mother came like the music of angels.
"Be a good girl." And with that, she gave a small squeeze to Sam's hand. Tears welled up in Sam's eyes but she held them back in happiness.
"Thanks, Mama. I'll see you later."
And Sam made a promise to herself – at least for her mother, that she will try to get along with everyone in her life today. She will tolerate the tedious acquaintances. She will be obedient to her teachers. She will be kinder. She knew her mother wanted her to be a better person. But sometimes it was hard.
But nothing was impossible for Sam.
Maybe except this.
A/N : there's an asterisk on Baby Constance because yes, historically she was born in 1888 but I'm changing it slightly to 1898 - a year prior to this story. This was simply to have a baby in the story and have Ralphie (who was also historically born in 1879, but, for the sake of this story, will be shifted to 10 years younger - 1889) to be the "closest sibling" with Sam as they are the only ones nearer of age. I don't even think anyone would look up the real historical figures on google but just in case someone scrutinized lol.