Author's Note

.｡｡*ﾟi hope you're staying safe and being kind to yourself! .｡｡*ﾟ

Love youuu 💗

𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚

MANHATTAN 1897

Sophie awoke around 5 in the morning. The storm had ceased, leaving an overcast morning. No birds sang. Even the streets sounded quieter than usual.

She turned over in the hospital cot, seeing Jack's was facing away from her, and that she had most of the covers. Then again, her head was halfway off the pillow. She sat up carefully, not wanting to disturb her sleeping brother or any of the other boys.

She didn't want to leave him, but she also didn't want anyone to catch her in there. Besides, Medda would worry if she weren't back by now.

With one last, long look at her brother, Sophie left and ventured through Manhattan. She laid low for a while in Central Park, selling papers for most of the morning into late afternoon. She figured she'd made enough to skip out on the evening edition and walked back to Irving Hall.

She ducked through the main entrance, spying Bella cleaning the stage after a performance, having a cigarette for dinner. Sophie rushed toward the steps of the stage, anxious to share the news of what happened.

"Jack's at Bellevue, along with a dozen other boys," Sophie said, breathless. "There was a fire at the Refuge, and now he's out!"

"I know. Where did you sleep last night?" Bella asked, gawking at Sophie's tangled hair and untied boot laces. "Medda almost sent me after you."

"I slept there," Sophie replied plainly as Bella put out her cigarette on a banister, stepping past furniture.

"But you hate hospitals."

Sophie's smile disappeared. "Yeah. I just missed Jack, is all. I was worried about him."

"Well, I was worried about you," Bella replied. "Thought maybe someone grabbed you in an alley. You have to let me know if you're spending the night somewhere else."

"I'm sorry."

Bella gave a rueful smile. "Medda will want to see you. She's in her dressing room."

Sophie brushed her hair back, turning away and nodding. Her mouth opened, and she stared at Bella with large, tearful eyes, and then looked away. "He's acting different."

Bella studied Sophie. "How do you mean?"

Sophie stepped slow, making her way across the stage. "I don't know…he's just different."

Staring after her, Bella smoothed her dress with her hands. "Oh, Sophie. He was in the Refuge," she said with a sad laugh. "He's probably been talking to the walls. Just give him time."

Sophie glanced at Bella and forced a smile. "You're right." Her chest heaved, and she headed for the wings.

In the backstage hallway, a stagehand carrying a crate on his shoulder moved for a dancer trying on her wig. A man donning a top hat passed Sophie as she made her way down the crowded corridor.

She paused, looking up at a sequin tutu hanging in the doorway.

"Who are you looking for?" The stagehand asked her.

"Medda," Sophie replied.

The stagehand laughed as he walked off. "The Swedish Meadowlark is in her dressing room. But I wouldn't go in there if I were you. She's a bit tipsy."

"Sophie?" A statuesque dancer – Florence – asked with a small pirouette. She was a French ballerina in her late twenties and swore up and down she'd danced with the French Ballet Company. "You finally working now? Saw how much Bella made, huh?"

"No, I just heard Medda was looking for me," Sophie said definitively. God, she hated Florence. It was as if she thought she was better than Sophie somehow, yet still managed to seem jealous of her. "Besides, Medda said I don't have to work here if I don't want to. I've got my papers."

"Papers?" The man in the top hat asked. Sophie didn't recognize him and supposed he was a client. "Not many girls hawk headlines, that's a boy's job."

"I do," Sophie mumbled. "It pays okay."

"Well, aren't we smug?" Florence said in an overexaggerated Brooklyn accent.

The client laughed again, wrapping his arm around Florence's waist. "I've had enough waiting. I've been waiting all evening for you."

"Shall we?" Florence replied with a bat of her eyelashes, taking his hand off her waist, and pulling him toward a staircase to the rooms upstairs.

"Would you like to join us, girl newsie?" The client called over his shoulder, not bothering to look at Sophie.

"I can show you how it's done," Florence added with a coquette smirk, and Sophie could see she was a bit tipsy as well.

"No, Medda's looking for me," Sophie replied, too nervous to admit she'd never done anything like that before. And frankly, she was scared to. The way Bella talked about it sometimes – it made Sophie's skin crawl.

"Ah, Medda's losing business, keeping your clothes on like a nun," The client's booming voice echoed off the walls.

"It's not dear little Sophie she cares about," Florence cackled, grabbing onto the railing for support, her makeup askew. She tossed Sophie a look that said she knew something Sophie didn't. "It's her brother's clothes that Medda wants off."

Sophie chewed on the inside of her lip as the pair strutted away, knowing that was just another one of Florence's lies. But it still unsettled and embarrassed her.

She looked around the still bustling backstage area before approaching the slightly opened door illuminated by a gas lamp. Sophie reached the door and leaned close to it, peering through the crack, and knocking tentatively.

"Whoever it is, I'm in no mood, you're too late," Medda's fake Swedish accent came from the other side.

"It's Sophie."

"Oh, come in, darling," Medda replied, the accent dropping. "And close the door, would you?"

Sophie entered, shutting the door behind her.

"Sophie, Sophie, Sophie, I just want to crawl into bed and sleep for a thousand years," Medda sighed. "My head aches, I wore the wrong size shoe during my performance. How stupid of Milly to bring me those damned shoes. I specifically told her the gold ones with the lace trim in a size 9. How hard is that?"

"I'm sorry," Sophie said quietly.

"You have nothing to be sorry about, absolutely nothing, my girl," Medda hummed, turning from Sophie. "Tell me, what does it look like out there? Anyone important? I told them I'm done for the night. I'm going to bed. I'm well beyond exhausted – no, I am corporeal."

"Bella said you wanted to see me?" Sophie interjected, ignoring the questions.

"I did?" Medda peered past her and unpinned her wig, removing it. "Oh, yes, of course. I wanted to make sure Jack was alright. Was he injured in the fire?"

"He's fine," Sophie replied, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders.

Medda rubbed lotion onto her hands, massaging it into her neck. "I never cared for that Nigel Snyder. You know, the few times he came here, he was always rough with the girls. I had to send Toby to get rid of him once, but he came back with a busted lip, so I had to send a bigger fella." Her hands fell into her lap.

"Hm," Sophie studied her. "Well, Jack will be okay."

Medda gave her a serious look. "They're not going to make him go back to that awful place, will they? I mean after all that, I think he's done his time."

"I don't know," Sophie shrugged. "We'll know soon enough. Maybe you could talk to Snyder since you know him. Tell him my brother's not a criminal, and he'll be on his best behavior if he's released—"

Medda took her hand. "Sophie, I'm sorry. I can't do that. I don't have that kind of power."

Sophie's face fell. "But—"

"Would you be a dear and help me out of this dress?" Medda asked, turning from Sophie as she struggled to take off the elaborate garment. "Don't you just love it? It arrived all the way from London."

"It's very pretty," Sophie replied, running her fingers over the fine lace and stitching. She dutifully undid the back ribbons, letting Medda exhale.

"Sophie, you could be so beautiful," Medda sighed, finishing back the rest of her wine. "Look at you, come here," she said, ushering Sophie to look in her vanity mirror. "Just like I was when I was your age."

Sophie examined her reflection, not paying much attention to how she looked, and instead chose to focus on the various smudges and cracks littering the mirror.

"Perhaps I've been too lenient with you for too long," Medda said, her tone changing a bit as she shimmied the rest of the way out of her fluffy purple gown.

"What do you mean, lenient?" Sophie asked in confusion, helping Medda spin around so she could step out of the dress.

"About working here, I realize it now," Medda replied, as if it were obvious. "But with all the trouble that's befallen you and your brother, I see now this is the perfect opportunity for you to turn your life around. Make real money. And I could be the one to get you there."

"I don't know," Sophie allowed herself a small, furtive frown as she guided a tipsy Medda out of the dressing room and up the stairs to her private bedroom.

"After all," Medda continued, stumbling up the stairs, clutching the railing with one hand and Sophie's arm with the other. "I was younger than you when I started." She paused on the top step. "And with your brother in the Refuge, perhaps for longer than we thought…"

Sophie felt her stomach drop, her head spinning. "I…"

"You're going to need to support yourself. And you can sell all the newspapers you want, but that's no way for a girl to earn a living," Medda slurred her words, feeling the wallpaper as they got to her bedroom door. "Not to mention, you're wasting your looks."

Blushing with embarrassment and anger, Sophie pulled back Medda's comforter, helping her into bed. "Wouldn't you much rather work here where it's warm and clean, as opposed to standing outside all day, exposed and exhausted?" Medda asked, leaning against her pillows in a dream-like movement. "Oh, you'll thank me one day. You'll be the belle of the ball. I'll teach everything I know. My own little protégée."

Medda pulled Sophie close, startling the girl. "Sophie, you know I would never let any harm come to you. You and Bella are like the daughters I never had." She said, a whimsical look in her tired eyes. "And we'll make such a team. Work our way up in the world long enough to slum it with Fifth Avenue types. Don't you want that? Caviar and pearls and mansions on Long Island?"

Sophie straightened away as Medda released her hand and turned over in the bed. "Perfect," Medda mumbled in an absent, enchanted way. "Simply perfect."

Sophie stared down at Medda, sleeping with half her corset and shift on, and walked away without a word.

When she climbed up to the room she shared with Bella, she found the Italian girl already in bed and under the covers, making her jump. "I thought you'd be down there working," Sophie admitted.

"Not a lot of people here tonight," Bella replied with a small laugh. "Toby said I could go to sleep early."

"Lucky you," Sophie chuckled, pulling off her blue shawl. She got into her own bed and flopped down on her stomach, turning to face Bella.

"Let me guess, Medda made you another proposition, didn't she," Bella whispered.

Sophie smiled. "Yeah. But she assures me it's for the best."

"Yeah, well," Bella rolled her eyes. "She'll say whatever it takes for you to make her money."

They were quiet for a moment.

"But to tell you the truth," Bella began, staring at the ceiling. "This life ain't so bad."

Sophie's lips parted, and she blinked. "You like it?"

"No," Bella confessed. "But it's easy, mostly. I suppose, it's better than other places. Beats a dive or a flop house. Or God forbid, the streets."

Sophie's breathy laugh was short-lived, more of an exhale than a giggle. She knew Bella was right, but at what cost?

"So," Bella whispered with a regretful smile. "What are you going to do?"

"I guess, I'll…" Sophie shrugged, "think about it."

"What is there to think about?"

"Well, Jack would never let me," Sophie said. "He doesn't want me doing that kind of work, and I promised him I wouldn't. I don't want him to come back and find me like this."

Bella looked away, frowning. "Jack can't tell you what to do forever."

Sophie raised an eyebrow. "No, but he'll try," she mused. "I just don't want to let him down. He's done so much for me, and the least I can do is stay out of trouble. Make an honest living."

"Right. Guess I don't know what that's like," Bella sighed, her eyes shining in the dim light. She gave Sophie a small smile. "I don't have any family."

"Yeah." Sophie shrugged. "But you have me. You're the closest thing I've ever had to a sister."

Florence's high-pitched moans echoed from the room across the hall, jolting the two girls like electricity.

"Nearly scared me half to death," Bella whispered, grabbing her sheets tightly. "She sounds like a seagull."

"No, more like a banshee," Sophie replied, falling into a fit of giggles with Bella, squeezing her eyes shut.