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"Cowboy!" Serce yelled across the street, "whadda ya heah, whadda ya say?" A few people turned their heads, hearing a name so odd for the surroundings; Jack Kelly, however, heard his name and searched the crowd for whoever was calling him. Then he saw Serce waving. "Serce!" he crossed over to her, "Guys told me you were back, but I didn't catcha ya dis monin'." They spitshook. "Yeah, I'se back. Wid a friend, in fact." He pulled out two cigarettes from his pocket and offered her one; gladly accepting it, she lit both hers and his. He blew out a cloud of smoke, "Hoid dat too. Scared li'l bundle, apparently. So, where is she?" he looked around. "I sent 'er back to da Lodgin' House. Today was da foist day she tried sellin' an', well…" she ended her sentence by motioning at the bunch of newspapers at her feet. Jack let out a small laugh. "Was wonderin' bout dose. So she can't really sell, eh?" Serce shook her head with a sigh. "Real sweet goil, she is. A yeah youngah den me. Da usual story; no family, no friends… found 'er in an alley. T'ing is, she don't have a penny on 'er. And well, I can't really afford supportin' da both of us. Don't know what ta do…" she ran her fingers through her short, chin-length blondish hair, in exasperation. She wasn't asking for help, and he knew it; she was just venting.
Jack looked at her closely. Serce wasn't known for showing her feelings, much less those of affection. This girl must've really struck a personal chord with her. He fiddled with his red bandanna and tried to sound carefree, "Don't sweat it. You'll figure somet'in out. Feed her for now, and ya know da Lodgin' House fee ain't a problem. Kloppmann won't kick her out for da life of him. She'll just pay him back sometime." Serce chuckled, "Actually da poor kid sorta fed me today. She did sell ONE pape… to some old chap who gave 'er a nickel 'cause she was cryin'." She shook her head quietly. Jack got up. "Hey, da day's too short fer worryin' an' sellin'. Sell now an' worry latah. Need some help wid dose?" he pointed at her papes. Serce glared back at him, "I ain't feelin' dat bad." He laughed. "Sorry. Just an innocent offah. I'se off den. See ya latah." With that he threw his cigarette stub on the floor, and after stepping on it, jogged away into the ever-moving lot of people.
Serce still had a few puffs of her cigarette left, and enjoyed them as much as she could. Jack was right, the day was too short; and not selling was not an option. Her worrying would have to be kept for later. Snubbing out the cigarette with the toe of her boot, she picked up the remaining papers. Taking a deep breath, she yelled the sentence which was probably the one she had most pronounced in all her 18 years of life: "Extra extra! Read all about it…"
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"Newsboy's Lodging House," Glitter read aloud. "This is it." She paused for a moment before going in. There weren't many girls in there; Serce had told her of a time when the upper floor was completely packed with newsgirls, but after other lodging houses started up, they had spread out. Only a few remained, and they weren't really regular lodgers. Like Serce, they mostly came and went, in between different jobs, different boyfriends, different lives. There was a great number of boys though. And Glitter was shy around people she didn't know well. Yesterday she had met most of them, but still, she wasn't that comfortable.
She realized she had been standing on the doorstep for quite a few minutes now, and she felt she was being watched. Looking up, she saw an eye-patched smiling face staring at her through the window. "Aaagh!" she jumped. The face broke into laughter that was soundless through the glass. She smiled coyly back, glad he hadn't taken it the wrong way. Kid Blink's his name, I think. Odd name… then again, most of these boys' names are odd, she thought, and started ticking them off on her fingers, Swifty, Snoddy, Pie Eater, Racetrack…Bumlets and Skittery? Boots and…Snipeshooter, oh my. Itey, Snitch, Mush…Crutchy, Dutchy, and Specs. Some of them do seem to make sense though…Then there's Jake. Jake is a real name. A dull rapping startled her again. She looked up at Kid Blink and he motioned for her to come inside. Dusting off her pants, she walked in.
Blink bobbed down the stairs, his ever-smiling face still twinkling with laughter. "Heya Glitter! How's it goin'? Whatcha doin' heah? Why were ya just standin' on the step fer hours?' he fired away, a question a minute. She seemed a bit overwhelmed and he laughed. "Sorry," he said. "Take a breath foist. Wanna sit down in da kitchen? I'se starvin', didn't have lunch. Did ya have lunch?", he continued his rambling and she remained silent. He didn't seem to mind though, and she followed him into the kitchen. "Ooops, I forgot, no food heah. I'se gonna go ta Tibby's den, wanna come?" She finally managed to put in a word, "Whoa! You're surely a talker, aren't ya? I'm like that too…sometimes. Anyways, no thank you, I just had lunch at Tibby's with Serce. Guess I'll stick around here a bit." Twirling her hair, she couldn't stare straight at him, her shyness still taking over her; but she was already beginning to feel more comfortable with the friendly newsie. "Well, I'se off den. See ya latah!" He flashed her one last smile and left the lodging house, whistling. He sure is cheerful, she thought. Impressive attitude to have, with such a life…
The lodging house seemed deserted. She assumed everyone was still out selling, or maybe having lunch. Or doing whatever else it was that newsies did. She had only entered their world a day ago, and she still had many things to learn. But she had already noticed that this odd assortment of people, boys and girls, young and older, of all shapes, sizes, and backgrounds, were like a family. It made her feel secure in a way, seeing that they were treating her as one of them already. She slowly started up the stairs, pausing everywhere to take everything in; like the sign that said "Speak the Truth", for example. She made her way to the the last floor, where a huge room hosted the few girls' bunks. Serce had said that there used to be many more, when the other girls still lived there, but when they began leaving, Kloppmann moved some to the boys' rooms and sold off a few others. She remembered taking a quick glance into his quarters yesterday; Kloppmann's that is. Right behind the main desk, a small room scarcely furnished. Must be a tough life for him too, running this whole place, in addition to being the closest thing to a harmless parent figure most of these people must have. She knew not all of the newsies in the house were orphans; the ones that weren't didn't seem to be on good terms with their parents, though. Serce wouldn't talk about her father and brother, though she did say they were still alive.
Once she entered the bunkroom, she walked over to the bunk that had been assigned to her by a girl called Hay. She seemed nice enough, and appeared to be in charge of the room. Serce didn't really seem to like her that much; they had apparently had some run-in a while ago. They both seemed to respect each other though, and stay clear of the other's path. Glitter sat down on her bed and looked around. The emptiness of the room, of the floor, of the whole house, suddenly hit her hard. And for the countless time in the last few days, she hung her head and started crying. Not sobbing, though. The quiet kind of crying; not quiet for shame, but quite for reality. For realizing the true impact of everything that happened, and what life will be like from that point on.
She let the tears trickle down, not bothering to stop them. Once they seemed to stop by themselves, she crept over to the washroom and dried her face on a towel. Looking into the mirror, the image of a scrawny girl, red- eyed from crying, hair in disarray stared back at her. She couldn't quite recognize one feature, though: a hollow look in her eyes. The kind of look you get once you notice that all you knew as your life, all your dreams, had been shot away. The kind of look that may be covered up, but never truly healed. Realizing this new characteristic was now a part of her, she turned her attention elsewhere.
Trying to scrub the dirt off her fingers, she realized it was pointless. She was all dirty. Her elbows, knees, arms, feet, everything… part of being a guttersnipe, she guessed. She let out a small laugh. I'm learning new words at least…she thought.
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"Cowboy!" Serce yelled across the street, "whadda ya heah, whadda ya say?" A few people turned their heads, hearing a name so odd for the surroundings; Jack Kelly, however, heard his name and searched the crowd for whoever was calling him. Then he saw Serce waving. "Serce!" he crossed over to her, "Guys told me you were back, but I didn't catcha ya dis monin'." They spitshook. "Yeah, I'se back. Wid a friend, in fact." He pulled out two cigarettes from his pocket and offered her one; gladly accepting it, she lit both hers and his. He blew out a cloud of smoke, "Hoid dat too. Scared li'l bundle, apparently. So, where is she?" he looked around. "I sent 'er back to da Lodgin' House. Today was da foist day she tried sellin' an', well…" she ended her sentence by motioning at the bunch of newspapers at her feet. Jack let out a small laugh. "Was wonderin' bout dose. So she can't really sell, eh?" Serce shook her head with a sigh. "Real sweet goil, she is. A yeah youngah den me. Da usual story; no family, no friends… found 'er in an alley. T'ing is, she don't have a penny on 'er. And well, I can't really afford supportin' da both of us. Don't know what ta do…" she ran her fingers through her short, chin-length blondish hair, in exasperation. She wasn't asking for help, and he knew it; she was just venting.
Jack looked at her closely. Serce wasn't known for showing her feelings, much less those of affection. This girl must've really struck a personal chord with her. He fiddled with his red bandanna and tried to sound carefree, "Don't sweat it. You'll figure somet'in out. Feed her for now, and ya know da Lodgin' House fee ain't a problem. Kloppmann won't kick her out for da life of him. She'll just pay him back sometime." Serce chuckled, "Actually da poor kid sorta fed me today. She did sell ONE pape… to some old chap who gave 'er a nickel 'cause she was cryin'." She shook her head quietly. Jack got up. "Hey, da day's too short fer worryin' an' sellin'. Sell now an' worry latah. Need some help wid dose?" he pointed at her papes. Serce glared back at him, "I ain't feelin' dat bad." He laughed. "Sorry. Just an innocent offah. I'se off den. See ya latah." With that he threw his cigarette stub on the floor, and after stepping on it, jogged away into the ever-moving lot of people.
Serce still had a few puffs of her cigarette left, and enjoyed them as much as she could. Jack was right, the day was too short; and not selling was not an option. Her worrying would have to be kept for later. Snubbing out the cigarette with the toe of her boot, she picked up the remaining papers. Taking a deep breath, she yelled the sentence which was probably the one she had most pronounced in all her 18 years of life: "Extra extra! Read all about it…"
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"Newsboy's Lodging House," Glitter read aloud. "This is it." She paused for a moment before going in. There weren't many girls in there; Serce had told her of a time when the upper floor was completely packed with newsgirls, but after other lodging houses started up, they had spread out. Only a few remained, and they weren't really regular lodgers. Like Serce, they mostly came and went, in between different jobs, different boyfriends, different lives. There was a great number of boys though. And Glitter was shy around people she didn't know well. Yesterday she had met most of them, but still, she wasn't that comfortable.
She realized she had been standing on the doorstep for quite a few minutes now, and she felt she was being watched. Looking up, she saw an eye-patched smiling face staring at her through the window. "Aaagh!" she jumped. The face broke into laughter that was soundless through the glass. She smiled coyly back, glad he hadn't taken it the wrong way. Kid Blink's his name, I think. Odd name… then again, most of these boys' names are odd, she thought, and started ticking them off on her fingers, Swifty, Snoddy, Pie Eater, Racetrack…Bumlets and Skittery? Boots and…Snipeshooter, oh my. Itey, Snitch, Mush…Crutchy, Dutchy, and Specs. Some of them do seem to make sense though…Then there's Jake. Jake is a real name. A dull rapping startled her again. She looked up at Kid Blink and he motioned for her to come inside. Dusting off her pants, she walked in.
Blink bobbed down the stairs, his ever-smiling face still twinkling with laughter. "Heya Glitter! How's it goin'? Whatcha doin' heah? Why were ya just standin' on the step fer hours?' he fired away, a question a minute. She seemed a bit overwhelmed and he laughed. "Sorry," he said. "Take a breath foist. Wanna sit down in da kitchen? I'se starvin', didn't have lunch. Did ya have lunch?", he continued his rambling and she remained silent. He didn't seem to mind though, and she followed him into the kitchen. "Ooops, I forgot, no food heah. I'se gonna go ta Tibby's den, wanna come?" She finally managed to put in a word, "Whoa! You're surely a talker, aren't ya? I'm like that too…sometimes. Anyways, no thank you, I just had lunch at Tibby's with Serce. Guess I'll stick around here a bit." Twirling her hair, she couldn't stare straight at him, her shyness still taking over her; but she was already beginning to feel more comfortable with the friendly newsie. "Well, I'se off den. See ya latah!" He flashed her one last smile and left the lodging house, whistling. He sure is cheerful, she thought. Impressive attitude to have, with such a life…
The lodging house seemed deserted. She assumed everyone was still out selling, or maybe having lunch. Or doing whatever else it was that newsies did. She had only entered their world a day ago, and she still had many things to learn. But she had already noticed that this odd assortment of people, boys and girls, young and older, of all shapes, sizes, and backgrounds, were like a family. It made her feel secure in a way, seeing that they were treating her as one of them already. She slowly started up the stairs, pausing everywhere to take everything in; like the sign that said "Speak the Truth", for example. She made her way to the the last floor, where a huge room hosted the few girls' bunks. Serce had said that there used to be many more, when the other girls still lived there, but when they began leaving, Kloppmann moved some to the boys' rooms and sold off a few others. She remembered taking a quick glance into his quarters yesterday; Kloppmann's that is. Right behind the main desk, a small room scarcely furnished. Must be a tough life for him too, running this whole place, in addition to being the closest thing to a harmless parent figure most of these people must have. She knew not all of the newsies in the house were orphans; the ones that weren't didn't seem to be on good terms with their parents, though. Serce wouldn't talk about her father and brother, though she did say they were still alive.
Once she entered the bunkroom, she walked over to the bunk that had been assigned to her by a girl called Hay. She seemed nice enough, and appeared to be in charge of the room. Serce didn't really seem to like her that much; they had apparently had some run-in a while ago. They both seemed to respect each other though, and stay clear of the other's path. Glitter sat down on her bed and looked around. The emptiness of the room, of the floor, of the whole house, suddenly hit her hard. And for the countless time in the last few days, she hung her head and started crying. Not sobbing, though. The quiet kind of crying; not quiet for shame, but quite for reality. For realizing the true impact of everything that happened, and what life will be like from that point on.
She let the tears trickle down, not bothering to stop them. Once they seemed to stop by themselves, she crept over to the washroom and dried her face on a towel. Looking into the mirror, the image of a scrawny girl, red- eyed from crying, hair in disarray stared back at her. She couldn't quite recognize one feature, though: a hollow look in her eyes. The kind of look you get once you notice that all you knew as your life, all your dreams, had been shot away. The kind of look that may be covered up, but never truly healed. Realizing this new characteristic was now a part of her, she turned her attention elsewhere.
Trying to scrub the dirt off her fingers, she realized it was pointless. She was all dirty. Her elbows, knees, arms, feet, everything… part of being a guttersnipe, she guessed. She let out a small laugh. I'm learning new words at least…she thought.
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