November 17th, 1898
Crutchie shivered as he made his way down the street back away from the circulation floor. A storm had moved in off the harbor that night, coating everything in a fine layer of freezing mist, and the blustery wind threatened to sweep him off his feet if he wasn't careful to avoid the patches of ice. Not many people out today and the prospects for selling didn't look very good. He shook off the numbness setting into his fingers – any feeling in his bad leg was long gone – and clenched his hand for a better grip on the crutch before putting on a stubborn smile and calling the first headline.
Either through a good deal of luck or sheer force of his optimistic will, the sun started to peek out from behind the midday overcast and the papers started to pick up as people made their way to the shops and food carts for lunch. He found a place with a friendly grocer and started to settle in, waving to one of the street kids who watched quietly from a stoop. Crutchie didn't expect him to be still sitting there whenever the crowds died down and he stopped selling to have a bite to eat, and he was more surprised when the boy scrambled down from his perch to sit next to him. He had a shock of curly light brown hair and wide eyes, but the most notable aspect of his appearance was his vest. It was dotted all over with dozens of mismatched buttons – shiny metal ones, carved wooden ones, rusty metal ones, big buttons, small buttons, of every shape and design.
"Hi, there! Need anything mended?"
Crutchie gave him a curious grin but decided to humor him and tugged off his right glove. "There's a hole worn through between the thumb and the palm where I hold my crutch. Can ya fix that?"
He nodded quickly, fished a spool of matching grey thread from his pocket, took a needle from where he kept it pinned in the fabric of his hat for safekeeping, and went to work. His fingers moved deftly between the fabric to create a web of string that wove around itself until the patch became part of the fabric itself. He finished it off by snapping the string with his teeth and handed it back to Crutchie.
"There ya go. That's a penny."
Crutchie smiled and gave him some extra spare change as he pulled on the glove. He wiggled his fingers and adjusted his grip on the crutch. The patch held up comfortably, and without the gaping window, the feeling started to return to his fingers.
"You got a name, kid?"
He squinted at the older boy. "My ma always said not to give my name to strangers."
Crutchie shrugged. "Your ma teach you how to sew too?"
He nodded a few times and blew into his hands to keep them warm.
"Then whatcha doing mending other street kid's clothes for small change? You're pretty good with that needle."
"Can't get no job with a tailor, being only twelve, and all the respectable sorts of folks either mend their own clothes or take them to a proper tailor, to begin with. Other street kids though I can usually help out."
Crutchie gave him a curious look. It was awfully generous - or foolish - of any street kid to operate like that instead of trying to score a real job. "I thought you said you got a Ma?"
The boy's face darkened, and understanding dawned on Crutchie. He put an arm around the smaller boy and pulled him into his side. "You got a place to stay for the night, Buttons?"
"I got a nice hiding spot behind an old laundry where the hot steam comes out," He suggested. Crutchie sucked in a breath of cold air and made up his mind. Buttons couldn't have been on the street for long, and he wouldn't last another week of this weather without a roof over his head. For a split second, it dawned on Crutchie that he'd switched positions with Jack from that fateful day all those years ago when he was cold and hungry and in need of a friend. Without a second thought, he pushed a bundle of newspapers into the younger boy's hands.
"Let's see if your voice is as good as your fingers. You can come back to the lodging house with me. I'm sure Jack wouldn't mind if you stayed the night, and then we'll get you selling properly in the morning. And if being a newsie ain't your thing, then we've got plenty of mending to be done between all the boys wearing their boots and everything else clean through."
"Really?!"
"Yeah, sure! Go on, try carrying the banner." Crutchie pushed gently him off the seat and into the sidewalk. He stood awkwardly for a second as the crowds swarmed around him like water around a pebble in a stream, took a glance at the paper, and shouted his first headline.
Crutchie had to admit that Buttons had a sort of natural charisma about him. Maybe it was his age, or his sociability, or his odd vest, but the customers walked away amused and pleased with the exchange. The two boys working in tandem quickly finished off the last of the day's papes and started back to the lodging-house together where Jack met the two with an enthusiastic greeting. They found some bunk space for him, and some scraps of fabric from a threadbare blanket so he could set about making himself some mittens, and retreated to their corner of the bunkroom with Race to talk quietly about the day.
"You did a good job bringing him back here, Crutchie. His fingers were half-frozen already."
"He seems like a good kid," Race added. "Clever, helpful. He'll be nice to have around."
Crutchie nodded and smiled slightly as Jack continued. "Did he say anything about his family. They won't be worried bout him or nothing?"
"Didn't say anything about a dad. His Ma passed away, and recently if I guess right. It's probably a sore subject. If he wants to talk, listen. Otherwise don't mention it."
Jack frowned and exchanged a look with Race. Many of their number and all the ones who stayed at the Lodging House came because they had nowhere else to go, but it was never an easy adjustment once the newness wore off and the homesickness set in. Especially when there was no remnant of an old home to go back to.
"I can keep him occupied," Race offered. "Between sewing jobs and games and work, he'll have enough to keep his hands and his mind busy."
"He needs time to process," Crutchie insisted. "That's good for the first few days but don't overwhelm him. 'specially not with the jobs. Those can be done anytime. Just make him welcome."
"Let's all just go round and introduce ourselves," Jack said. "He needs to meet everyone eventually, talking it out would be good for him, and then he won't feel so alone. How's that?"
Crutchie and Race nodded their agreement to the plan. Jack stood up and called for everyone's attention. He pointed out their newest member, Buttons gave a shy wave and told everyone to go round, tell their name, age if they knew it, and how they'd come to the lodging house. He started, introducing himself as Captain Jack (and rubbing his hand instinctively along the strap of the bag that was still slung around his shoulder) then gestured for Race to start the introductions around in a clockwise circle. Buttons nodded silently at each person, trying to commit the motley assortment of names and personalities to memory, and occasionally asking questions when a particularly interesting name or snippet of backstory caught his attention. Of course, the story of Jack's famous escape from the Refuge was amongst the stories. Buttons hadn't heard of it before and listened entirely enraptured as he regaled them of the tale that seemed to grow more outlandish every time. Since the last telling, Jack had become best friends with the governor while sitting in the back seat, and he allowed Jack to tag along on the errands for the day, where he'd been introduced to the theater star Medda Larkin. Crutchie thought it was a splendid addition, and only partially untrue. Jack did know the owner of Irving Hall, but he'd met her while during a different escapade that went unmentioned.
Crutchie, sitting to Jack's right, was the last to speak. He'd done this probably a dozen times, in one variation or another, which each new boy that was added to their ranks over the last years but seldom told his story the same way each time depending on how much energy he had to explain that night. His was… odd. At least by Newsie standards, though it could hardly hold a candle to Jack's antics. Most of them came to the profession either to support their families, going home in the evenings to help with whatever work they had at home, or they were orphans looking for a job to support themselves. He, unlike his braggadocious friend, remembered that his long-familiar situation would seem somewhat-sensational to the others, and it could easily drag out with exhausting questions or usurp the conversation. So keeping this and Button's poorly hidden yawning in mind he decided to give an abbreviated version.
"…and that's my bit," finished Albert who was sitting to Crutchie's right. "Your turn."
He adjusted his grip on his crutch and looked into the distance as he breezed over the story of his family's search for work, meeting Clara, and his illness. He feigned a casual tone of voice as he talked about the frustration that came with staying in bed for so many months, and how much he enjoyed the conversations he had with Clara over the time that he stayed with them. He spoke of the impatience that came with waiting for letters that never came, and how he'd landed upon what was at the time, a seemingly brilliant idea to follow the railways out West.
"…and then I left," he finished simply, "I made it to Manhattan before I nearly froze, Jack brought me here for the night, and I've been a Newsies since."
Almost immediately, a dozen questions came from the assembled company. So much for abbreviation. First came from Romeo, who turned on him a curious look. "Were you friends with the girl you stayed with? What was she like?"
Of course, Romeo asked about Clara. "She was my best friend," Andrew said slowly. "I miss her. I'd be lying if I said I didn't wonder what she's doing sometimes."
"Do you regret coming here? Do you still plan to go out West?" asked JoJo. There was an odd sort of apprehension in his voice – not fearful that Crutchie would leave them, but almost disbelieving as if he were trying to imagine a life in the lodging house without Crutchie, and the concept was too unbelievable to comprehend.
He hesitated, before answering, "No. I regret leaving her the way I did - without a goodbye, or a warning or any way to keep in contact. But that's history now, I love it here, and I've learned my lesson. I'm not leaving again." He cast a reassuring smile at Jojo and Romeo, and the younger boys grinned back.
He noticed Jack's bittersweet look and gave him a gentle punch in the arm. For as often as the two of them spoke of dropping everything and heading to Santa Fe together when things got bad, he knew that they both cared for the Newsies too much to skip out like that. They could dream, sure, they dreamed that one day they'd get a lucky break and one day the money wouldn't be so tight and one day there'd be another person ready to help lead the Newsies in their absence. But for now, they would stay, and he was content with that. Jack gave him a smile of understanding as Button's voice shook him back to the present
"You sound like you had a nice life there, but why did you leave? So soon like that?"
Crutchie looked around the room, as he found himself overwhelmed by nostalgia and realized how much time had passed and how much things had changed since his first night. He searched for a true answer to that question. He could probably name a hundred different reasons for how he justified his actions at the time, but only one mattered now.
"I needed to find my family," Crutchie answered. His voice was quiet and contemplative as he made eye contact with each of his brothers. "And, I did."
A/N: I think you're all going to like the next chapter! Any guesses as to where our intrepid heroes go from here?
Thanks for reading and reviewing as always!