Part IV
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That night, Sally found a new boarding house. She and Michael took a room on the second floor, and for a while, everything was going well. Michael left early every morning and joined the newsies for a whole day, selling alone and eating lunch with Red and Fish.
One day, Red, a very observant young man of fourteen, said, "'Ey Spotty… why don't ya nevah come outta Conlon's Boardin' 'owse anymore?"
Michael paused mid-bite, then set down his sandwich. "Uh… me fadda… 'E kicked me out."
"Why?" asked Fish.
"Cause a sumpin' me sistah did. I dunno what, dough. But I'm dyin' ta find out."
"Who's yer sistah? An' what's she look like?"
"Sally Wintahs. She's, uh, 'bout tall as Fish, maybe a lil' bit tallah. Yella 'air, coily, blue eyes, skinny, wears real fancy clothes…"
"Dat 'er?" asked Fish casually, waving his hot dog towards the window.
Michael turned, then ducked. "Geez, I shoah hope she didn't see me!"
A man sitting at the table next to them, who had happened to hear their entire conversation, laughed. "Ya wanna know what she did, kid?"
Michael looked at the man. "How d'ya know what she did? Ya don't even know 'er!"
"Oh, I know 'er, all right," the man said with a laugh. "She's workin' at the saloon."
"What d'ya mean, woikin'? Like a waitress? What's wrong wit dat?" asked Michael innocently.
"Uh, we'll explain it ta ya latah, Spot," said Fish. "C'mon, let's git outta heah."
Michael, Fish, and Red headed for the distribution office slowly. Fish and Red attempted to explain to Michael, and after a few tries, Michael realized what the man had meant.
"Ewww!" cried Michael with a shudder. Fish chuckled.
"So, ya need a place ta stay? Ya can always stay at da lodgin' 'owse fer da newsies. Y'know, wheah we stay. 'Cross da street from da saloon."
Michael nodded. "Yeah, shoah, dat'd be a lot bettah dan livin' wit dat… dat… Jezebel!" Michael finally spat.
Fish nodded and stepped up to the distribution window. "Hundred papes."
"Hundred papes!" the man shouted. "Next!"
"Fifty papes."
"Fifty papes!" the man shouted, slamming the stack of fifty papes down on the counter. Red handed them down to the much-smaller boy, who nearly crumbled under the weight. Michael was a small, skinny kid, but he was stronger than he looked.
"See ya tamarrah, Red. Bye, Fish," Michael called as he headed out to the streets. He walked the streets of Brooklyn alone. A few businessmen returning to their offices for lunch stopped him to buy a pape, but most people left the scrawny little kid alone as he walked to the pier. Michael loved the river. It reminded him of the rivers in Pittsburgh, and how often Stephie or Maria would take him and Dana down to the point where all the three rivers met…
"Don't get too close," Maria called from several yards back.
Michael and Dana disregarded her warning, though, and ran right down to the edge. The water was cold and silverish. The three rivers were wide and enormous, and moved very fast. The February evening was cold and dark, and a few stars poked out from around the clouds. The hill to the left was lit with tiny dots of light, from windows and lampposts. All in all, the night seemed magical.
"'Ey, Spotty, what're ya doin'? Ya got papes ta sell!" shouted Keys, who got his name from his talent to pick any lock.
"Leave me alone, Keys! I'se lookin' at da 'eadlines!" called Michael, opening a pape and glancing it over. Broken Railing on Trolley Leaves Three Injured. Michael smiled, knowing that the headline had potential. Jumping to his feet, Michael grabbed his papes and hurried to the streets.
"Extra! Extra! Trolley's Broken! Hundreds a lives at stake!" shouted Michael. Passers-by swarmed over to buy his papes, and Michael found over half of his papes had been sold. With a grin, he headed to another part of town.
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That evening, as Michael ate a poorly-cooked dinner with Sally, he asked, "'Ey Sally, wheah d'ya woik?"
She looked panicked. "At the saloon," she answered nervously. "I'm a waitress."
"No you ain't," Michael sneered, sick and tired of Sally and her lies. "I was talkin' ta dis guy in da restrant taday, an' 'e said dat yer a Jezebel."
Sally's eyes grew wide. "You stupid, selfish brat! Who are you to question what I do? I'm feeding you and clothing you for no cost! And what do I get in return? A stupid little brat like you! Get out! Out! Right this instant! I won't stand for it any longer. I hope you like living on the streets!"
"I'se not gonna live on da streets. I'se gonna live wit da newsies. 'Cross da street from da saloon wheah youse a waitress," mocked Michael.
Sally picked up her glass and threw it at him, but she completely missed. Michael jumped out of his chair and grabbed his pillow, reaching for the sock. Sally came after him, looking quite out of her mind and ready to kill. Michael had picked up some good fighting tips from Fish and Red, and within ten seconds, Sally was laying on the floor in a lot of pain. Michael grabbed all his money, all the money of Sally's that he could find, and his cap.
"S'long, Jez," Michael said, shutting the door and heading down the stairs. He walked quickly, because he wasn't sure how soon Sally would recover. Once he was on the street, he pulled on his cap and walked along, alone as usual. He was soon outside a large building with a sign above the door that said "Newsboys' Lodging House." Michael paused, then entered his sixth, and hopefully final, home.
--------
That night, Sally found a new boarding house. She and Michael took a room on the second floor, and for a while, everything was going well. Michael left early every morning and joined the newsies for a whole day, selling alone and eating lunch with Red and Fish.
One day, Red, a very observant young man of fourteen, said, "'Ey Spotty… why don't ya nevah come outta Conlon's Boardin' 'owse anymore?"
Michael paused mid-bite, then set down his sandwich. "Uh… me fadda… 'E kicked me out."
"Why?" asked Fish.
"Cause a sumpin' me sistah did. I dunno what, dough. But I'm dyin' ta find out."
"Who's yer sistah? An' what's she look like?"
"Sally Wintahs. She's, uh, 'bout tall as Fish, maybe a lil' bit tallah. Yella 'air, coily, blue eyes, skinny, wears real fancy clothes…"
"Dat 'er?" asked Fish casually, waving his hot dog towards the window.
Michael turned, then ducked. "Geez, I shoah hope she didn't see me!"
A man sitting at the table next to them, who had happened to hear their entire conversation, laughed. "Ya wanna know what she did, kid?"
Michael looked at the man. "How d'ya know what she did? Ya don't even know 'er!"
"Oh, I know 'er, all right," the man said with a laugh. "She's workin' at the saloon."
"What d'ya mean, woikin'? Like a waitress? What's wrong wit dat?" asked Michael innocently.
"Uh, we'll explain it ta ya latah, Spot," said Fish. "C'mon, let's git outta heah."
Michael, Fish, and Red headed for the distribution office slowly. Fish and Red attempted to explain to Michael, and after a few tries, Michael realized what the man had meant.
"Ewww!" cried Michael with a shudder. Fish chuckled.
"So, ya need a place ta stay? Ya can always stay at da lodgin' 'owse fer da newsies. Y'know, wheah we stay. 'Cross da street from da saloon."
Michael nodded. "Yeah, shoah, dat'd be a lot bettah dan livin' wit dat… dat… Jezebel!" Michael finally spat.
Fish nodded and stepped up to the distribution window. "Hundred papes."
"Hundred papes!" the man shouted. "Next!"
"Fifty papes."
"Fifty papes!" the man shouted, slamming the stack of fifty papes down on the counter. Red handed them down to the much-smaller boy, who nearly crumbled under the weight. Michael was a small, skinny kid, but he was stronger than he looked.
"See ya tamarrah, Red. Bye, Fish," Michael called as he headed out to the streets. He walked the streets of Brooklyn alone. A few businessmen returning to their offices for lunch stopped him to buy a pape, but most people left the scrawny little kid alone as he walked to the pier. Michael loved the river. It reminded him of the rivers in Pittsburgh, and how often Stephie or Maria would take him and Dana down to the point where all the three rivers met…
"Don't get too close," Maria called from several yards back.
Michael and Dana disregarded her warning, though, and ran right down to the edge. The water was cold and silverish. The three rivers were wide and enormous, and moved very fast. The February evening was cold and dark, and a few stars poked out from around the clouds. The hill to the left was lit with tiny dots of light, from windows and lampposts. All in all, the night seemed magical.
"'Ey, Spotty, what're ya doin'? Ya got papes ta sell!" shouted Keys, who got his name from his talent to pick any lock.
"Leave me alone, Keys! I'se lookin' at da 'eadlines!" called Michael, opening a pape and glancing it over. Broken Railing on Trolley Leaves Three Injured. Michael smiled, knowing that the headline had potential. Jumping to his feet, Michael grabbed his papes and hurried to the streets.
"Extra! Extra! Trolley's Broken! Hundreds a lives at stake!" shouted Michael. Passers-by swarmed over to buy his papes, and Michael found over half of his papes had been sold. With a grin, he headed to another part of town.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
That evening, as Michael ate a poorly-cooked dinner with Sally, he asked, "'Ey Sally, wheah d'ya woik?"
She looked panicked. "At the saloon," she answered nervously. "I'm a waitress."
"No you ain't," Michael sneered, sick and tired of Sally and her lies. "I was talkin' ta dis guy in da restrant taday, an' 'e said dat yer a Jezebel."
Sally's eyes grew wide. "You stupid, selfish brat! Who are you to question what I do? I'm feeding you and clothing you for no cost! And what do I get in return? A stupid little brat like you! Get out! Out! Right this instant! I won't stand for it any longer. I hope you like living on the streets!"
"I'se not gonna live on da streets. I'se gonna live wit da newsies. 'Cross da street from da saloon wheah youse a waitress," mocked Michael.
Sally picked up her glass and threw it at him, but she completely missed. Michael jumped out of his chair and grabbed his pillow, reaching for the sock. Sally came after him, looking quite out of her mind and ready to kill. Michael had picked up some good fighting tips from Fish and Red, and within ten seconds, Sally was laying on the floor in a lot of pain. Michael grabbed all his money, all the money of Sally's that he could find, and his cap.
"S'long, Jez," Michael said, shutting the door and heading down the stairs. He walked quickly, because he wasn't sure how soon Sally would recover. Once he was on the street, he pulled on his cap and walked along, alone as usual. He was soon outside a large building with a sign above the door that said "Newsboys' Lodging House." Michael paused, then entered his sixth, and hopefully final, home.