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The next morning around five, Mrs. Brewster came in to wake up the girls again. So began their normal routine of getting up and ready for work. She and Michele were ready around their normal time, and headed towards the factory.
"Sara, Michele," came a familiar voice from across the street. "Youse goils wanna join us fa breakfast?" Blink called. "It's on da way ta da factory."
Sara and Michele crossed the street, so they wouldn't have to yell. "How do ya know where we'se work?" Sara demanded, getting angry and feeling betrayed.
"It' ain't dat hard ta see what direction you're headed in, and dere's only one local factory 'round here." Blink said backing off. "Sides, I just though dat you'd like somethin' to eat in da moirning."
"Oh, uh . . ." Sara turned to Michele, who nodded, "sure, why not. But we'se can't stay long, 'cause da factory won't let us in if we'se late."
"Sure, youse'll get dere in time. Dese nuns, who feel bad fa us or somet'in', give us dis bread. Not dat it's any good, but it's food. Nobody gits enough dese days, and-"
"Listen, I'se appreciate it an' all, but we don't take charity from nobody."
"Look, he didn't mean ta offend ya. We don't make dat much eiddah." Racetrack defended Blink, almost apologetically.
"Well, it couldn't hurt. Might as well. C'mon Michele." And so the girls tagged along with the newsies, following them to their supply of breakfast that they were willing to share. They didn't have time to talk, though, because they were already there. The nuns started handing out food, and Sara and Michele were on their way to the factory.
During their lunch break, Michele was talking to Sara, and just told her that she was pretty sure that her father and mother had given up looking for her.
"That's good." Sara had found a nearby pretzel stand and they had bought a pretzel each, they had some change leftover from last night. After they were done, they headed back to the factory.
They got out late tonight, and headed to that restaurant that they went to yesterday. When Sara and Michele walked in, and Sara heard her and Michele's names being called. Sara turned around to see who it was, and found out that the baby-faced Italian, Racetrack, had called her, who was sitting with the ever so shy Mush.
"Hey Racetrack, Mush." She didn't know the two other boys who were there, but they slid over.
"Here, have a seat." Racetrack said, motioning for them to sit, where the other boys had slid over. Sara and Michele sat down, as Racetrack introduced them to the other boys. "Dis 'ere is Jack Kelly, da leadah of us Manhattan Newsies, and dis is Spot, da leadah of da Brooklyn Newsies. An' of coise you know Mush."
Jack and Spot introduced themselves. Jack was tall, brown hair and eyes, wore a cowboy hat and a red bandanna. Spot was shorter (not as short as Racetrack), had blonde hair, she couldn't decide what color his eyes were, and looked like he acted tough.
The waiter came over and took Sara and Michele's orders. "So, you all done sellin' your papes?" Sara asked no one in particular.
"I'se done 'cause I won at da tracks, an' sold da rest of me papes." Racetrack said.
"Yeah, me and Jackie-boy 'ere are done wit our papes early." Spot answered.
"I was wit Race taday, and sold all a me papes wit 'im." Mush said quietly. Sara had gathered that he was a pretty shy person.
"So, Spot, if youse da leadah of da Brooklyn Newsies, what are you doin' in Manhattan?" Curious Sara asked.
"Spot an' I had some business we had ta do." Jack answered. Seeing that Sara wasn't going to get anymore information out of him, she turned her attention to finishing her meal, which had arrived a while ago. The rest of dinner flowed smoothly, and the boys had even asked them if they would like to see a show with them. "It wouldn't cost nuttin', 'cause I'se friends wit da
owner." Jack coaxed, hoping that they would come.
"What time is it anyway?" Sara said, knowing that they had to get back soon.
"It's just 'bout eight fifteen." Race said. "Are you gonna come?"
"Oh, you gotta be kiddin' me! It's dat late already?"
"What's a mattah?" Jack asked.
"Well, our boardin' house has dis first come, first serve policy. Most of da girls go straight dere an' stay in for da whole night. Sometimes dere ain't 'nough room." Michele said quietly. They stood up, paid the waiter, and were getting ready to leave.
"Well, if ya's evah need a place ta stay, youse welcome at our lodgin' house. Duane street. Forty-nine. Drop in sometime." Jack replied. Sara could see why he was the leader, and had already began to trust him.
"Yeah, feel free ta drop in anytime." Said Blink, who had just walked in the restaurant.
"Bad night?" Mush asked, concerned about is friend.
"Yeah. Not too bad, though. Youse girls gonna stay 'round any longer?"
"Na, thanks for askin'. We'se gotta get back. See ya 'round."
"Bye! See ya's!" Blink said, and Sara and Michele walked out the door, heading for the boarding house.
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Sara and Michele were almost to the boarding house. It was late, and there weren't many people out on the streets.
"Do ya feel okay?" Sara was saying. "Ya didn't look to good at da restaurant."
"Yeah, I'se fine. I haven't been da best lately, porb'ally just a cold er somethin'." Michele was saying.
All of a sudden, these two men jumped out at them from an alley. "What do ya want? We'se nevah did nuttin' ta ya." Sara said getting, defensive, and ready to fight Michele along with her.
"Which one of you is Michele Herbert?" The one attacker with a faded red shirt said. Their attackers could see right through Sara, who was still trying to conceal her emotions of fear for her friend. "So it's you den." The 2 men had found their target. For a while Sara and Michele fought them off, but that only lasted for so long.
"Git rid a dat one," the other guys said, pointing to Sara. "Den we can get da other one." So they concentrated on eliminating Sara, who suddenly got pushed into a wall made of crates, which came crashing down on her. Sara made a futile attempt to cover her head with her arms as the crates toppled upon her. She was unsuccessful, and the force of the crates rendered
her unconscious.
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The next morning around five, Mrs. Brewster came in to wake up the girls again. So began their normal routine of getting up and ready for work. She and Michele were ready around their normal time, and headed towards the factory.
"Sara, Michele," came a familiar voice from across the street. "Youse goils wanna join us fa breakfast?" Blink called. "It's on da way ta da factory."
Sara and Michele crossed the street, so they wouldn't have to yell. "How do ya know where we'se work?" Sara demanded, getting angry and feeling betrayed.
"It' ain't dat hard ta see what direction you're headed in, and dere's only one local factory 'round here." Blink said backing off. "Sides, I just though dat you'd like somethin' to eat in da moirning."
"Oh, uh . . ." Sara turned to Michele, who nodded, "sure, why not. But we'se can't stay long, 'cause da factory won't let us in if we'se late."
"Sure, youse'll get dere in time. Dese nuns, who feel bad fa us or somet'in', give us dis bread. Not dat it's any good, but it's food. Nobody gits enough dese days, and-"
"Listen, I'se appreciate it an' all, but we don't take charity from nobody."
"Look, he didn't mean ta offend ya. We don't make dat much eiddah." Racetrack defended Blink, almost apologetically.
"Well, it couldn't hurt. Might as well. C'mon Michele." And so the girls tagged along with the newsies, following them to their supply of breakfast that they were willing to share. They didn't have time to talk, though, because they were already there. The nuns started handing out food, and Sara and Michele were on their way to the factory.
During their lunch break, Michele was talking to Sara, and just told her that she was pretty sure that her father and mother had given up looking for her.
"That's good." Sara had found a nearby pretzel stand and they had bought a pretzel each, they had some change leftover from last night. After they were done, they headed back to the factory.
They got out late tonight, and headed to that restaurant that they went to yesterday. When Sara and Michele walked in, and Sara heard her and Michele's names being called. Sara turned around to see who it was, and found out that the baby-faced Italian, Racetrack, had called her, who was sitting with the ever so shy Mush.
"Hey Racetrack, Mush." She didn't know the two other boys who were there, but they slid over.
"Here, have a seat." Racetrack said, motioning for them to sit, where the other boys had slid over. Sara and Michele sat down, as Racetrack introduced them to the other boys. "Dis 'ere is Jack Kelly, da leadah of us Manhattan Newsies, and dis is Spot, da leadah of da Brooklyn Newsies. An' of coise you know Mush."
Jack and Spot introduced themselves. Jack was tall, brown hair and eyes, wore a cowboy hat and a red bandanna. Spot was shorter (not as short as Racetrack), had blonde hair, she couldn't decide what color his eyes were, and looked like he acted tough.
The waiter came over and took Sara and Michele's orders. "So, you all done sellin' your papes?" Sara asked no one in particular.
"I'se done 'cause I won at da tracks, an' sold da rest of me papes." Racetrack said.
"Yeah, me and Jackie-boy 'ere are done wit our papes early." Spot answered.
"I was wit Race taday, and sold all a me papes wit 'im." Mush said quietly. Sara had gathered that he was a pretty shy person.
"So, Spot, if youse da leadah of da Brooklyn Newsies, what are you doin' in Manhattan?" Curious Sara asked.
"Spot an' I had some business we had ta do." Jack answered. Seeing that Sara wasn't going to get anymore information out of him, she turned her attention to finishing her meal, which had arrived a while ago. The rest of dinner flowed smoothly, and the boys had even asked them if they would like to see a show with them. "It wouldn't cost nuttin', 'cause I'se friends wit da
owner." Jack coaxed, hoping that they would come.
"What time is it anyway?" Sara said, knowing that they had to get back soon.
"It's just 'bout eight fifteen." Race said. "Are you gonna come?"
"Oh, you gotta be kiddin' me! It's dat late already?"
"What's a mattah?" Jack asked.
"Well, our boardin' house has dis first come, first serve policy. Most of da girls go straight dere an' stay in for da whole night. Sometimes dere ain't 'nough room." Michele said quietly. They stood up, paid the waiter, and were getting ready to leave.
"Well, if ya's evah need a place ta stay, youse welcome at our lodgin' house. Duane street. Forty-nine. Drop in sometime." Jack replied. Sara could see why he was the leader, and had already began to trust him.
"Yeah, feel free ta drop in anytime." Said Blink, who had just walked in the restaurant.
"Bad night?" Mush asked, concerned about is friend.
"Yeah. Not too bad, though. Youse girls gonna stay 'round any longer?"
"Na, thanks for askin'. We'se gotta get back. See ya 'round."
"Bye! See ya's!" Blink said, and Sara and Michele walked out the door, heading for the boarding house.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Sara and Michele were almost to the boarding house. It was late, and there weren't many people out on the streets.
"Do ya feel okay?" Sara was saying. "Ya didn't look to good at da restaurant."
"Yeah, I'se fine. I haven't been da best lately, porb'ally just a cold er somethin'." Michele was saying.
All of a sudden, these two men jumped out at them from an alley. "What do ya want? We'se nevah did nuttin' ta ya." Sara said getting, defensive, and ready to fight Michele along with her.
"Which one of you is Michele Herbert?" The one attacker with a faded red shirt said. Their attackers could see right through Sara, who was still trying to conceal her emotions of fear for her friend. "So it's you den." The 2 men had found their target. For a while Sara and Michele fought them off, but that only lasted for so long.
"Git rid a dat one," the other guys said, pointing to Sara. "Den we can get da other one." So they concentrated on eliminating Sara, who suddenly got pushed into a wall made of crates, which came crashing down on her. Sara made a futile attempt to cover her head with her arms as the crates toppled upon her. She was unsuccessful, and the force of the crates rendered
her unconscious.
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