Chapter 11
The cops began to know me by name, stopping by the lodging house, or local selling spot to tell me I had to go pick my Father up from one of the bars because he was too drunk and causing a scene. My hatred slowly grew into a loathing that couldn't be cooled with ice water poured over my flaming head. I was stressed about what my Father was doing to my family, and it showed in my work. I didn't sell as many papers, and all I wanted to do was curl up on a bench and sleep away the day. I barely got any sleep throughout the night, having to deal with father's rantings and ravings. I sat up late into the night with Mother in the kitchen, drinking countless cups of tea in silence. Sometimes Mother would tell me a story about when her and Pa first met, about Aidan when he was little and about what funny things I did as a baby. I enjoyed listening to her talk of happier times, it made the situation not seem so bad, but it made Mother sad sometimes. Especially when she talked of the house in Ireland and all the land we owned.
"Do you remember those cliffs?" She often acted as though we had left 10 years ago instead of just 7 months ago. But it did feel like 10 years at times, especially now. Pa had changed a lot in those 7 months, becoming a full out alcoholic from just a gambler. "Those hills, such rich green velvet! How'd I love to smell the clean country air, and see trees! Big lush ones in the middle of fields! And the grass! Oh how I wish to feel it underneath my bare feet. Now you might as well die before walking barefoot even in your own house. And what kind of house is this? We have neighbors through a wall and dirty as sin. I can't keep up with the cleaning!"
She would always end with complaints, but that was all we could do, complain about our situation because we had nothing good to talk about. Sometimes I had a good day at work, but mother didn't want to hear that. She didn't have the luxury of leaving the house and get away from the family to work on her own. Sometimes she would apologize for making me go get Pa from the bars, but it wasn't necessary. She couldn't be asked to leave her babies behind and go get him. Someone had to take care of the young children and by the time I got home from selling, it would be too late and Pa would be at the jailhouse.
"Maybe we should just let him go to jail." I mentioned to her one night.
"And have to pay to get him out? We're poor Brenna! Don't be ridiculous."
"I'm not Ma, just let him stay the night and let him get out on his own, we won't pay for anything. He'll have to wake up in a jail cell and maybe he'll realize what he's doing is wrong." So we didn't go pick him up from the bar the next night, and he went to jail. Stayed the whole night and into the morning, so drunk was he. He came home furious.
"You left me in a bloody jail?! WHAT KIND OF FAMILY IS THIS? I married a trash of a woman who can't even help out her husband! And what did she produce? A brood of bitches who can't help their poor old father. You two EVER do that again I'll wring your fucking NECKS!" Was he still drunk? Why did they let him out? Mother looked so depressed at that moment, but her spirit had yet to be broken. She straightened out her back at the terror of a man in front of her, who had a wrinkled shirt which smelled of vomit, a head of tousled hair, and eyes that burned like the devil.
"How DARE you come home after being ARRESTED and yell at ME! What did I do wrong? I was not the idiot with a pea brain who got so drunk that he had to be carted off in a police cart to the jailhouse! If you didn't get drunk, WE WOULDN'T HAVE TO GET YOU SO YOU WOULDN'T BE ARRESTED!" She threw up her hands, her eyes just as fiery as his, and walked out of the room. He stood shooting fire balls out his eyes at her, but he had been defeated by his own wife. And that was apparent in the hang of his shoulders and the twist of his mouth. His 'trashy wife' had gotten the last word in this fight and he had lost. He opened and closed his fist a couple times, glared at me and stormed out of the house.
For the first time in years, I respected my mother. She may be aging and poor, married to an alcoholic but she still had her dignity and her spirit. And I wanted to be just like her one day, to be able to stand up to a man twice my size and beat them down with my words.
*******
The newsies were in trouble. Strike had warned us that we might have a confrontation with the Italian gang again, but we hadn't guessed on it being as soon as it came.
They were at the distribution center when we got there. I had walked down from Poplar with Spot, Strike, Luna and Dash, and everything had been pretty uneventful. I doubt they were waiting for us, just looking for trouble, as Strike would have said. There were about 5 of them, and several of us. Braker, Joker, Voodoo, Cheat and Loco soon joined us, outnumbering them by four. Yet all we had for weapons was Spot's cane, and they had malots, batons, and other such weapons.
"What do you want Tony?" Strike stepped up, confronting one of the members who I guessed was a leader of some sort.
"We requested a meetin' with ya yesterday and you never showed." Tony stepped forward, banging his baton on his open palm.
"And I tell myself when I want ta do somethin', and meetin with you wasn't on me agenda." Strike crossed his arms over his chest and stood his ground. He wasn't going to fight, I knew that, unless Tony attacked him. "Get you and your boys out of my territory and we won't have any problems."
"First you listen to what I gots ta say." Tony stepped closer to Strike who kept his ground.
"Why should I listen to ya? I'se listenin to what Vinnie gots ta say, not his little bruddah." Strike glared at him, his eyes practically sending out daggers. I prayed that no fights would break out, however some of the newsies felt differently. "So I suggest you and your little friends get the hell outta heah and leave us be."
Tony snarled at Strike, waved his stick, and with a wave of his arm, left with the other four. "We'll be back Strike, we'll be back." He shouted over his shoulder as he disappeared down the road.
"We'se coulda taken em!" Dash jumped around the space where Tony and his friends once were. "Pow pow!" he punched the air, stopping in front of Strike. "Come on Strike, let us fight em!"
"No fighting." Strike was a good few inches taller than Dash, and looked down at him very seriously. There was no way around Strike when you think about it. What he says goes, and if you disobey orders, you would never be seen in Brooklyn again. "UNLESS they start beatin on us. Is that clear?" He wasn't only addressing Dash, he sweeped his eyes over the crowd of newsies now gathered outside the distribution center. "No fighting, none, unless they start the trouble with us! If I hear about any trouble caused by one of my guys, there will be hell to pay."
"Jeez, he sounds like he's addressin his troops before they go off ta war!" Joker whispered in my ear, laughing. It brought a smile to my face but I quickly hid it, afraid that General Strike would hunt me down and make me do pushups.
We all bought our usual amount of papers, and headed off to sell. "Watch out today fellahs, we may still be in fer some trouble with Tony and his gang." Strike yelled out as we dispersed on our routes. I was with Needles and Brick for this outing, my first time out with Needles.
"This is fucked up. Not allowed to fight? He's a dictatah that's what he is…rulin us like we're jus little ants." Needles just sighed. He reminded me a lot of Dash, except Needles had a nice streak to him. We continued to sell in silence, Brick constantly on the lookout for members of the gang. He was so busy looking for them that he almost missed Voodoo running at us, screaming about some fight.
"Guys, guys come quick!" She was terribly out of breath, her selling route far from where we were, and from guessing, she ran the whole way. "Guys, they attacked us. It was five of dem and 3 of us and dey got Jokah bad. Hurry!" She took off running and after a few seconds, we joined her trying not to loose sight of her as she ran.
We arrived at the scene in the alley where Joker lay on the ground with Braker bent beside him in pretty rough condition.
"It was like they were waitin fer us. They just sprung out at us and dragged us in heah, I escaped to go get help but they beat on Jokah real bad." Voodoo's words mixed together as she hurried to get them out. Cheat, Spot, Luna and Dash were close behind us and we all just stared in shock at the sight of Joker. He was badly bruised on his arms and legs, and had a gash over his shoulder which tore through the clothes. He had several cuts on his face and his hands were bloody from fighting. Spot was the first to react and told everyone to help get him up, we had to carry him back to the lodging house. Luna, Voodoo, Braker and I helped carry him while the others kept the lookout for the gang, just waiting to catch us off guard.
Joker was surprisingly heavy and by the time we got to the house, most of the good selling times were over. But that day no one else would sell, for fear more attacks would come. I stayed as late as I could, helping take care of Joker and Braker after the doctor left. Strike had found us about an hour after we got into the house, and lectured us about watching out for ourselves. But you could tell under his face of anger, that he was worried and concerned for his fellow companions. Pretty soon everyone was gathered back at the lodging house, where we remained throughout the evening.
Flash walked me home that evening under a cloudy sky. The first snow would fall that evening, but snow wasn't the only thing lingering above our heads that night. The threat that our little universe could possibly get shattered by a gang of ruthless boys fresh in the neighborhood hung over us thick as fog and no one wanted it to be true.