CHAPTER 2:
"Mama? Mama, I'm home!" It was about ten-thirty when I got home, so I didn't really
expect her to be there yet. Working for Medda kept her out until about one every night.
"Emily? You're home. Good." I heard a voice say. It wasn't my mother.
"Miss Larkson, what are you doing here." Being my mother's employer, Medda didn't
come by the house very often for social visits. I refer to her as Medda only because that's
what my mother called her, but to be polite I was always to address her as Miss Larkson.
"Oh hun, there was an accident."
"Excuse me?"
"It was at the theatre. A little bit of a riot broke out. I asked your mother to
help me calm the crowds, and then there were a few gunshots from the crowds. A few drunken
men were arrested...but, honey...your mother. She was..." She trailed off, and started to
sob. I knew what she was trying to tell me. My mother was hit.
"Is she okay? Is my mama okay? Tell me!" I was nonsensical. My head was spinning
and nothing was making sense. I saw Toby, another one of Medda's helpers, come out of the
shadows.
"Basically, child, she didn't make it. It was too late when the doctor finally arrived.
I'm sorry." He explained.
"She's DEAD?!?!" I screamed and ran out of my house. I ran into the street and in
front of a carriage. The horses stopped before a collision.
"Get out of the street child!" I heard Toby yell, but I kept running. I ran all the
way to the Brooklyn Bridge. So many people find it scary there, what with Spot's newsies and
all, but I find it serene almost. Spot was a very territorial kind of guy, but he wasn't so
bad once you got to know him.
I stood on the bridge, not crying, not shaking, not feeling anything. I was empty.
I had the newsies, yeah, they were my friends, but my mother...my mother was my only family.
My mama. I didn't know my father's family because they didn't approve of my mother. My mama
was an only child, like me, and her parents died in a fire when I was four. I was all alone,
and with no money.
"So I heah you wanna be a newsie." I heard a Brooklyn accent say.
"Not now Spot. Anytime but now."
"Look, I ain't got nuthin' against goils, but when they wanna sell papes, and I knows
they can sell papes bettah than me, I get a little noivis. You know?" I didn't answer him.
I just looked over the bridge and hoped he'd go away, but no such luck. Spot Conlon never did.
"Little Bit? Dat is you right? I'd hate to be out heah talkin' to a strangah about what makes
Spot Conlon noivis. It ain't good foh da reputation."
"Yeah it's me."
"Den why ain't you tawkin'?"
"I don't want to Spot. I'll see ya later." I started to walk back to Manahattan.
"Look, it's late and your in a bad pawt a da neighbahood. Want me to walk you home?"
"I don't have a place to go."
"Why not?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"You get in a fight wit ya ma?"
"No."
"Ya house boin down?"
"No."
"Den what?"
"I dunno."
"You want me ta walk wit ya? Just walk?"
"Okay." So we walked, in silence mostly, until the sun came up. We walked from
Brooklyn to Manhattan, and everywhere in between.
We reached the Lodging House where I had told Jack I'd meet him in the morning. The agreement
of my selling papes seemed so long ago. I guess with what happened and staying up all night,
it can do that to you. I wasn't ready to start a new day. I had a funeral to plan and bording
to figure out, but before I could walk away, Jack was outside.
"You look dead," was the first thing he said to me. I finally broke down.
"She ain't tawked much ewall night. Now dis. Somethin' ain't right heah, Jackey-boy."
Spot told him. "You try and get somethin' outta her. See ya later Bit." And he walked back
to Brooklyn.
"Was it somethin' I said?" Jack asked. We walked to the distribution place, and Jack
got his papes from Weasel, the Delancey Brothers' uncle. He sat down on the steps with his
papes in one hand and patted the ground next to him with his other hand, making the motion for
me to sit. "What happen' las' night? You was ewall excited about sellin' papes, and today I
see you walkin' wit Spot, and you ain't slept at ewall. What's wrong?"
"Well first of all, Oscar screwed up my arm, and my mother died, and I have no place
to live anymore because I can't afford rent since my mama..." I cried some more.
"Oscar did dis to ya? Race said he didn't."
"I didn't think so, but I recognized his voice, and..." I couldn't seem to finish a
sentence today.
"Wait, wait, wait. What happened to ya ma?"
"I don't know. Something about a riot, and a gunshot. I couldn't really hear anything
Medda or Toby were telling me. It's all a blur. It's just, everything's falling apart. But
you can't tell anyone. I'm not helpless. I can fix this. I don't know how, but I can." I
stopped crying and soon the other boys were getting their morning papes.
"I think they's gonna figure out what happen' to ya ma at the funeral."
"Oh. Right. Well, you tell them. I have to go."
"Awrigh'."
"Thanks cowboy." I walked off to Medda's place.
"Mama? Mama, I'm home!" It was about ten-thirty when I got home, so I didn't really
expect her to be there yet. Working for Medda kept her out until about one every night.
"Emily? You're home. Good." I heard a voice say. It wasn't my mother.
"Miss Larkson, what are you doing here." Being my mother's employer, Medda didn't
come by the house very often for social visits. I refer to her as Medda only because that's
what my mother called her, but to be polite I was always to address her as Miss Larkson.
"Oh hun, there was an accident."
"Excuse me?"
"It was at the theatre. A little bit of a riot broke out. I asked your mother to
help me calm the crowds, and then there were a few gunshots from the crowds. A few drunken
men were arrested...but, honey...your mother. She was..." She trailed off, and started to
sob. I knew what she was trying to tell me. My mother was hit.
"Is she okay? Is my mama okay? Tell me!" I was nonsensical. My head was spinning
and nothing was making sense. I saw Toby, another one of Medda's helpers, come out of the
shadows.
"Basically, child, she didn't make it. It was too late when the doctor finally arrived.
I'm sorry." He explained.
"She's DEAD?!?!" I screamed and ran out of my house. I ran into the street and in
front of a carriage. The horses stopped before a collision.
"Get out of the street child!" I heard Toby yell, but I kept running. I ran all the
way to the Brooklyn Bridge. So many people find it scary there, what with Spot's newsies and
all, but I find it serene almost. Spot was a very territorial kind of guy, but he wasn't so
bad once you got to know him.
I stood on the bridge, not crying, not shaking, not feeling anything. I was empty.
I had the newsies, yeah, they were my friends, but my mother...my mother was my only family.
My mama. I didn't know my father's family because they didn't approve of my mother. My mama
was an only child, like me, and her parents died in a fire when I was four. I was all alone,
and with no money.
"So I heah you wanna be a newsie." I heard a Brooklyn accent say.
"Not now Spot. Anytime but now."
"Look, I ain't got nuthin' against goils, but when they wanna sell papes, and I knows
they can sell papes bettah than me, I get a little noivis. You know?" I didn't answer him.
I just looked over the bridge and hoped he'd go away, but no such luck. Spot Conlon never did.
"Little Bit? Dat is you right? I'd hate to be out heah talkin' to a strangah about what makes
Spot Conlon noivis. It ain't good foh da reputation."
"Yeah it's me."
"Den why ain't you tawkin'?"
"I don't want to Spot. I'll see ya later." I started to walk back to Manahattan.
"Look, it's late and your in a bad pawt a da neighbahood. Want me to walk you home?"
"I don't have a place to go."
"Why not?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"You get in a fight wit ya ma?"
"No."
"Ya house boin down?"
"No."
"Den what?"
"I dunno."
"You want me ta walk wit ya? Just walk?"
"Okay." So we walked, in silence mostly, until the sun came up. We walked from
Brooklyn to Manhattan, and everywhere in between.
We reached the Lodging House where I had told Jack I'd meet him in the morning. The agreement
of my selling papes seemed so long ago. I guess with what happened and staying up all night,
it can do that to you. I wasn't ready to start a new day. I had a funeral to plan and bording
to figure out, but before I could walk away, Jack was outside.
"You look dead," was the first thing he said to me. I finally broke down.
"She ain't tawked much ewall night. Now dis. Somethin' ain't right heah, Jackey-boy."
Spot told him. "You try and get somethin' outta her. See ya later Bit." And he walked back
to Brooklyn.
"Was it somethin' I said?" Jack asked. We walked to the distribution place, and Jack
got his papes from Weasel, the Delancey Brothers' uncle. He sat down on the steps with his
papes in one hand and patted the ground next to him with his other hand, making the motion for
me to sit. "What happen' las' night? You was ewall excited about sellin' papes, and today I
see you walkin' wit Spot, and you ain't slept at ewall. What's wrong?"
"Well first of all, Oscar screwed up my arm, and my mother died, and I have no place
to live anymore because I can't afford rent since my mama..." I cried some more.
"Oscar did dis to ya? Race said he didn't."
"I didn't think so, but I recognized his voice, and..." I couldn't seem to finish a
sentence today.
"Wait, wait, wait. What happened to ya ma?"
"I don't know. Something about a riot, and a gunshot. I couldn't really hear anything
Medda or Toby were telling me. It's all a blur. It's just, everything's falling apart. But
you can't tell anyone. I'm not helpless. I can fix this. I don't know how, but I can." I
stopped crying and soon the other boys were getting their morning papes.
"I think they's gonna figure out what happen' to ya ma at the funeral."
"Oh. Right. Well, you tell them. I have to go."
"Awrigh'."
"Thanks cowboy." I walked off to Medda's place.