AN/R: This isn't going as well as I hoped.. I wish I could get right into my favorite parts, but those aren't coming for a while now. This is one of my favorite chapters, though.. the events pop up in later chapters, too, but I won't tell you what and leave you in suspense O.O Not that this is particularly suspenseful or anything XD In the meantime, please R&R.. please? ::puppydog eyes:: On with the story!
And that's how it went for about three years. Every morning I'd rise at dawn, make myself proper, and go out to sell papes with Boxer. By then, we were actually making it to the harbor to sell. When we were done each day, we'd go out to eat, or maybe just stay around the harbor for a while. I liked the harbor. Something about it was so calm, but I knew that it was very powerful underneath. Most of the time, though, Boxer would take me to see the fights in the afternoon. Even at nine or ten, he didn't think I was too young to see a guy beat the living snot out of someone else; he rationalized it to the others by saying it would help me with my fighting skills. I got to meet some of the people who worked in the ring because they were Boxer's friends, and they all seemed to take to me. I was glad that I could be liked the same way Boxer was. The more time that went by, the more I idolized him. He was like God to me. No, he _was_ God. He had been God since day one.
It was a normal September day when it happened. Everything had been normal at first - Boxer and I sold our papes, caught a quick lunch, and headed back to the Lodging House. It was a Sunday, so we skipped the fights. We hung around the lodging house for the rest of the day. I yakked with Arrow, Mike, and Duke, a ten year-old who had started selling papes that same year. Boxer was in the corner, near his bed, but none of us knew what he was doing. He seemed serious, even a little sullen, so we left him alone. Throughout the day the newsies came in and out of the house. Some of them looked at Boxer curiously, but a few didn't pay any attention. When the sun was finally setting, I discharged myself from conversation with Duke and headed for the door, thinking that maybe I'd go out by myself for a while. Catch dinner by myself or something. I knew my way around by then, of course. I was just sick of sitting around with Boxer acting so weird.
"Stay here, Spot." Boxer's strangely unemotional voice reached me just as my hand hit the doorknob. I looked back at him. He wasn't even looking up. That's when I got the feeling something was wrong. So I did what I asked him to - I sat back down to resume my conversation with Duke. He, along with the rest of the newsies in the room, noticed the problem he seemed to be having as well. We all stared at his back in silence until someone had the courage to speak up.
"'ey, Boxah, what's wit the silent bit?" Arrow asked in his natural disrespectful tone.
"Shut up, Arrow."
"I ain't shuttin' up til you tell us what's wrong."
Boxer lifted his head and glanced back at us over his shoulder.
"Well, dat's too bad, 'cause I ain't here just ta fulfill yer curiosities."
The rest of us kinda wanna know, too," Marbles, a soft-spoken newsie around the age of fourteen, piped up cautiously.
"Is everyone here?" asked Boxer.
"I t'ink so."
"Okay..." Boxer rose from his bunk to stand tall and face us. For the first time I noticed how tired his pale blue eyes looked. I peered past him to see a curiously large pack resting on the bed. "Is anyone here old enough to remembah Flashpots?" he asked, slinging the bag he had over his shoulder.
A few scattered boys, including Arrow, Raff, and Mike, raised their hands or nodded their heads, but didn't say anything. I'd heard him mentioned by Arrow once or twice, but I never knew him personally, so I stood still.
"For the rest of youse, Flashpots was the leadah here before me. He left when 'e got a job as a photographer for The Journal. I was sixteen at the time, and I'se nearly twenty-one now. Lotsa people have come, like Dukey here -" he paused as he gestured to him "- and lotsa people have gone, like Lanny. I know that I can't be a newsie all me life. I'se gotta make a life for myself as an adult, and to do that, I'se gotta give up my post and leave here."
There was silence for a moment. My mouth was agape from astonishment as the words sunk in. Boxer...leaving!? Leaving!! It didn't make sense, not to me, and not to anyone else there as well. Nearly everyone there was stunned...the only one I could see with an uninterested look on his face was Arrow. When the shock subsided, frantic chatter emerged among the boys, not only among themselves but directed at Boxer as well.
"L-leaving?"
"You can't, Boxah!"
'We need youse!"
"It ain't gonna be right if you ain't here!"
"Forevah?"
"'EY, SHUT UP!" Boxer hollered over the discussions. "Why're you all so surprised? Guys have left the past few years...Bars, Lanny, a lot of 'em, youse all know dat. I gave it a lotta thought, and it's the best thing for all of us. And you guys is gonna have a great leadah to take ovah fer me."
Arrow arched an eyebrow and grinned, as if he was expecting something.
"So, Boxah," he asked, folding his arms over his chest. "Who's takin' the torch?"
"Like I said, I gave dat a lot of thought...and I decided on someone who I know's gonna bring da boys to da top - Raff, take good care of 'em all."
Raff looked like he had been knocked right over. He was so surprised, you could have guessed that a feather had done the job.
"I...I'm takin' over!?"
"Congrats, Raff," said Mike, patting him on the back.
"Youse gonna be great!" agreed another, Rocky.
"What the hell kinda crap is dis!?" Arrow suddenly yelled through the cloud of good words. "I'se been here longer dan 'e has!"
"Dat don't mean shit, Arrow! I ain't evah seen you do anythin' unless it benefited yerself!" Boxer snapped. "You ain't fit to lead dis lodgin' house from what I know."
"Den when you leave, I'll take it over," he said cockily.
Boxer dropped his pack and stalked over to Arrow. He reached out a strong hand, grabbed him by the shirt, and slammed him against the wall angrily. We watched the whole scene in silence.
"You ain't doin' nothin' of the sort!" he yelled in Arrow's face. "You ain't happy here, den go down and find a new lodgin' house ta stay at, away from Manhattan. I ain't lettin' ya cause any more trouble here." He released Arrow with a shove to the side and slung his pack over his shoulder again. "It was good to know ya, boys," he said to us, and then headed out the door.
I stared at the door for a while, trying to understand just _why_ he'd leave, and why he'd abandon me, all so suddenly, as I ignored everyone else's hushed whispers and startled glances. I surprised everyone, though, when I sprinted as fast as I could out the entrance to the Lodging House and into the street.
"Spot, c'mon back here!" I could hear Raff yelling. "Don't follow 'im!"
But that's exactly what I was going to do. And even if Raff was the new leader, I wasn't going to let him tell me what to do just yet.
The advantage to being young is that you're faster and have more energy. Being twelve, and following someone who was without a doubt casually walking in familiar places, I caught up to Boxer in about fifteen minutes, but when I found him, I was barely able to tap him on the shoulder without gasping for air. More energy, yes, but when you stop, you're more tired too.
"Spot!" Boxer exclaimed as he turned around and saw me. "What're ya doin'?"
"Why...you...leavin'?" I sputtered between breaths.
"Did ya even listen to a word I said?"
"Every single one of 'em!"
"Den you know." He started to turn again. "Stay away this time, Spot. You won't be able to find me if you go lookin' again."
"Why are ya bein' this way!?"
"I said I was leavin', didn't I? And I am. I'm goin' where nobody can find me."
"Where?" I asked.
"Chicago."
"Why Chicago!?" I demanded.
He looked at me again. "Bein' a newsie an' bein' in New Yawk didn't do much fer me, Spot. The only reason I stuck around was ta earn money just to get by. But the other day this guy comes up to me, says he's from Chicago and woiks in da fights. 'e told me that I could be part of it, as long as I left today."
"WHY!?" I questioned, near screaming now.
"New Yawk don't do nothin' fer me anymore, like I said. Spot, if you don't lemme go, I'll miss me train." He started walking again.
"Fine!" I yelled after him. "GO! Go be a goddam real boxah! Go leave all of us!" I closed my eyes and started going through every curse I'd ever heard anyone say. "You fuckin' jackass cock-sucker bullshittin' bastard an' do yer filthy, pigshit crappin' -" I stopped as I felt pain shoot through me, as if something hard had come into contact with my jaw. Opening my eyes, I saw that something had been Boxer's fist.
"I told you, no swearin' til yer thirteen!" he barked as I cradled by jawbone.
"I'll be thirteen in two months," I informed him.
"Well, you ain't it today, so cut it. This is hard, Spot. Don't you dare think it ain't. But I'se gotta go and can't keep backtrackin' to set you straight. You got that?"
I nodded meekly, my jaw hurting like nobody's business.
"I'm glad I got to know ya, Spot," he continued, patting me on the head. "Keep up what I taught ya."
"Thanks fer savin' my life," I muttered, my eyes averting his.
I saw a grin break through his angry face.
"No problem, kid. Take care of yourself."
"You too," I said as he walked away.
God was gone.
And that's how it went for about three years. Every morning I'd rise at dawn, make myself proper, and go out to sell papes with Boxer. By then, we were actually making it to the harbor to sell. When we were done each day, we'd go out to eat, or maybe just stay around the harbor for a while. I liked the harbor. Something about it was so calm, but I knew that it was very powerful underneath. Most of the time, though, Boxer would take me to see the fights in the afternoon. Even at nine or ten, he didn't think I was too young to see a guy beat the living snot out of someone else; he rationalized it to the others by saying it would help me with my fighting skills. I got to meet some of the people who worked in the ring because they were Boxer's friends, and they all seemed to take to me. I was glad that I could be liked the same way Boxer was. The more time that went by, the more I idolized him. He was like God to me. No, he _was_ God. He had been God since day one.
It was a normal September day when it happened. Everything had been normal at first - Boxer and I sold our papes, caught a quick lunch, and headed back to the Lodging House. It was a Sunday, so we skipped the fights. We hung around the lodging house for the rest of the day. I yakked with Arrow, Mike, and Duke, a ten year-old who had started selling papes that same year. Boxer was in the corner, near his bed, but none of us knew what he was doing. He seemed serious, even a little sullen, so we left him alone. Throughout the day the newsies came in and out of the house. Some of them looked at Boxer curiously, but a few didn't pay any attention. When the sun was finally setting, I discharged myself from conversation with Duke and headed for the door, thinking that maybe I'd go out by myself for a while. Catch dinner by myself or something. I knew my way around by then, of course. I was just sick of sitting around with Boxer acting so weird.
"Stay here, Spot." Boxer's strangely unemotional voice reached me just as my hand hit the doorknob. I looked back at him. He wasn't even looking up. That's when I got the feeling something was wrong. So I did what I asked him to - I sat back down to resume my conversation with Duke. He, along with the rest of the newsies in the room, noticed the problem he seemed to be having as well. We all stared at his back in silence until someone had the courage to speak up.
"'ey, Boxah, what's wit the silent bit?" Arrow asked in his natural disrespectful tone.
"Shut up, Arrow."
"I ain't shuttin' up til you tell us what's wrong."
Boxer lifted his head and glanced back at us over his shoulder.
"Well, dat's too bad, 'cause I ain't here just ta fulfill yer curiosities."
The rest of us kinda wanna know, too," Marbles, a soft-spoken newsie around the age of fourteen, piped up cautiously.
"Is everyone here?" asked Boxer.
"I t'ink so."
"Okay..." Boxer rose from his bunk to stand tall and face us. For the first time I noticed how tired his pale blue eyes looked. I peered past him to see a curiously large pack resting on the bed. "Is anyone here old enough to remembah Flashpots?" he asked, slinging the bag he had over his shoulder.
A few scattered boys, including Arrow, Raff, and Mike, raised their hands or nodded their heads, but didn't say anything. I'd heard him mentioned by Arrow once or twice, but I never knew him personally, so I stood still.
"For the rest of youse, Flashpots was the leadah here before me. He left when 'e got a job as a photographer for The Journal. I was sixteen at the time, and I'se nearly twenty-one now. Lotsa people have come, like Dukey here -" he paused as he gestured to him "- and lotsa people have gone, like Lanny. I know that I can't be a newsie all me life. I'se gotta make a life for myself as an adult, and to do that, I'se gotta give up my post and leave here."
There was silence for a moment. My mouth was agape from astonishment as the words sunk in. Boxer...leaving!? Leaving!! It didn't make sense, not to me, and not to anyone else there as well. Nearly everyone there was stunned...the only one I could see with an uninterested look on his face was Arrow. When the shock subsided, frantic chatter emerged among the boys, not only among themselves but directed at Boxer as well.
"L-leaving?"
"You can't, Boxah!"
'We need youse!"
"It ain't gonna be right if you ain't here!"
"Forevah?"
"'EY, SHUT UP!" Boxer hollered over the discussions. "Why're you all so surprised? Guys have left the past few years...Bars, Lanny, a lot of 'em, youse all know dat. I gave it a lotta thought, and it's the best thing for all of us. And you guys is gonna have a great leadah to take ovah fer me."
Arrow arched an eyebrow and grinned, as if he was expecting something.
"So, Boxah," he asked, folding his arms over his chest. "Who's takin' the torch?"
"Like I said, I gave dat a lot of thought...and I decided on someone who I know's gonna bring da boys to da top - Raff, take good care of 'em all."
Raff looked like he had been knocked right over. He was so surprised, you could have guessed that a feather had done the job.
"I...I'm takin' over!?"
"Congrats, Raff," said Mike, patting him on the back.
"Youse gonna be great!" agreed another, Rocky.
"What the hell kinda crap is dis!?" Arrow suddenly yelled through the cloud of good words. "I'se been here longer dan 'e has!"
"Dat don't mean shit, Arrow! I ain't evah seen you do anythin' unless it benefited yerself!" Boxer snapped. "You ain't fit to lead dis lodgin' house from what I know."
"Den when you leave, I'll take it over," he said cockily.
Boxer dropped his pack and stalked over to Arrow. He reached out a strong hand, grabbed him by the shirt, and slammed him against the wall angrily. We watched the whole scene in silence.
"You ain't doin' nothin' of the sort!" he yelled in Arrow's face. "You ain't happy here, den go down and find a new lodgin' house ta stay at, away from Manhattan. I ain't lettin' ya cause any more trouble here." He released Arrow with a shove to the side and slung his pack over his shoulder again. "It was good to know ya, boys," he said to us, and then headed out the door.
I stared at the door for a while, trying to understand just _why_ he'd leave, and why he'd abandon me, all so suddenly, as I ignored everyone else's hushed whispers and startled glances. I surprised everyone, though, when I sprinted as fast as I could out the entrance to the Lodging House and into the street.
"Spot, c'mon back here!" I could hear Raff yelling. "Don't follow 'im!"
But that's exactly what I was going to do. And even if Raff was the new leader, I wasn't going to let him tell me what to do just yet.
The advantage to being young is that you're faster and have more energy. Being twelve, and following someone who was without a doubt casually walking in familiar places, I caught up to Boxer in about fifteen minutes, but when I found him, I was barely able to tap him on the shoulder without gasping for air. More energy, yes, but when you stop, you're more tired too.
"Spot!" Boxer exclaimed as he turned around and saw me. "What're ya doin'?"
"Why...you...leavin'?" I sputtered between breaths.
"Did ya even listen to a word I said?"
"Every single one of 'em!"
"Den you know." He started to turn again. "Stay away this time, Spot. You won't be able to find me if you go lookin' again."
"Why are ya bein' this way!?"
"I said I was leavin', didn't I? And I am. I'm goin' where nobody can find me."
"Where?" I asked.
"Chicago."
"Why Chicago!?" I demanded.
He looked at me again. "Bein' a newsie an' bein' in New Yawk didn't do much fer me, Spot. The only reason I stuck around was ta earn money just to get by. But the other day this guy comes up to me, says he's from Chicago and woiks in da fights. 'e told me that I could be part of it, as long as I left today."
"WHY!?" I questioned, near screaming now.
"New Yawk don't do nothin' fer me anymore, like I said. Spot, if you don't lemme go, I'll miss me train." He started walking again.
"Fine!" I yelled after him. "GO! Go be a goddam real boxah! Go leave all of us!" I closed my eyes and started going through every curse I'd ever heard anyone say. "You fuckin' jackass cock-sucker bullshittin' bastard an' do yer filthy, pigshit crappin' -" I stopped as I felt pain shoot through me, as if something hard had come into contact with my jaw. Opening my eyes, I saw that something had been Boxer's fist.
"I told you, no swearin' til yer thirteen!" he barked as I cradled by jawbone.
"I'll be thirteen in two months," I informed him.
"Well, you ain't it today, so cut it. This is hard, Spot. Don't you dare think it ain't. But I'se gotta go and can't keep backtrackin' to set you straight. You got that?"
I nodded meekly, my jaw hurting like nobody's business.
"I'm glad I got to know ya, Spot," he continued, patting me on the head. "Keep up what I taught ya."
"Thanks fer savin' my life," I muttered, my eyes averting his.
I saw a grin break through his angry face.
"No problem, kid. Take care of yourself."
"You too," I said as he walked away.
God was gone.
