"You are in a pitiable condition
if you conceal what you wish
to tell."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
When we try to erase past events, figures in our lives, we know, in the back of our minds that it is futile. Although you can't make these things vanish, you can come to accept and recover from them, and not let them stop you from living the life Mother Fate and Sister Destiny planned for you long ago.
For Mask, set in her ways, narrow-minded and stubborn at times, learning this came the hard way, one resplendant winter's afternoon when Manhattan lay under a blanket of shimmering snow.
An entire month had come and gone since her arrival here, and much to her surprise, she had found herself forming bonds of affection with the people she now considered 'her' newsboys. They'd become more than just acquaintances to her, they had taken the role of friends, confidents, brothers, fathers all in one. And for the first time in her life, she finally felt as though she belonged somewhere.
But there are other things, too she thought grimly, even as the girl grasped her papes under her arm and, shivering against the cold, tramped out to her usual selling spot. I ain't told dem everythin'...dey don't who I am. Shoah, dey understand I'se Key, but dey don't know da poison, Mara Charlotte Delancey. I don't t'ink I do, either.
She sighed, not exactly looking forwards to another day of busting her throat while screeching out various headlines. Although she was grateful she had one, life wasn't perfect. In fact, it was far from peaceful. A turbulance was brewing, and she could sense it.
Blink. Snoddy. da two guys causin' me and each other problems.
over the course of a month, Kid Blink had been getting more and more pushy with his affection towards her. So far, she had identified he and Mush as the two boys who had turned flirting into an art. But where Mush was more subtle, the one prone to spewing romantic innuendos, Blink was the one who was most likely to take the flirting to another level, using a more direct approach.
And that didn't fly well with Snoddy.
Jeez. It was just one kiss, an' we didn't do anythin' dat night othah than fall asleep togeddah. So why do I feel so obligated ta him?
After that one incident, Snoddy had been getting more and more possessive, bristling in defense whenever he thought one of his friends was taking the 'physical touch' a bit too far.
And as for da relashionship between Blink an' Snoddy...
Mask didn't even want to get into that. It had become a tangled web between the two of them, arguing over just who's girl she was. And Mask, in turn, let them argue, not really caring who came out as the victor. She decided her own future, planned her own destiny, which included choosing the boy she would claim as her's.
The girl had to admit, however, that it was partially her fault. In another stroke of brutal honesty with herself, Mask silently and very grudgingly admitted that she had been enjoying the afttention. It had fed her iripressable vanity for a while, and she had worked it, stirred the fire more than she needed.
Enough thinkin'. It won't earn you lunch money.
The girl grabbed a pape and began waving it back and forth, more out of habit than anything else.
"EXTRA, EXTRA! Read all about it! Foriegn Duchess visitin' New Yawk beaten ta death in park! Foreman of local factory suposedly respon'sble for crime!"
It was a far cry from what the actual headline said, but it was better than nothing. It was no foreign duchess that had been beaten to death, but the mayor's wife, robbed of some of her most valuable jewellry. Sure, some might want to read that story, but why not spice it up when the opportunity arose?
A young woman and older man paused at her selling spot, handed her a few coins and took the papers. That was expected.
What wasn't expected was Jake, tearing around the corner and slamming straight into her, bringing them both to the ground, Oscar and Morris hot on his heels, both looking mad enough to kill.
Mask struggled to her feet once more, then threw a confused glance first at Jake, then at both the Delancey brothers. Panting, Jake scrambled to get uponce more, then hurtled off down the street.
Mask wasn't quite sure what exactly he had done to anger the two this time, but knew well enough to provide a distraction. She stepped out in front of them, muscles tensed, ready to run if need be. Agility, not strength, as she had so long ago figured out.
Oscar skidded to a halt, which brought Morris to one as well, looking almost comical. Crossing her arms over her chest, Mask gave a halfhearted smile.
"Hey dere, ugly," she smiled. "'What'd he do dis time? Insult the intelligence dat ain't even dere?"
Morris snarled, shoving past his brother and leaping at Mask. She sidestepped him, watching in satisfaction as he fell to the pavement below, giving a yelp of pain as he landed chin first. Oscar hesitated for just a second, then lunged at the girl, only to find she had and her papes had somehow vanished into thin air.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Mask laughed to herself as she headed off towards Itey's selling spot. He had apparently caught a very bad cold, but refused to let that stop him from selling. Not really in a big rush to get rid of all of her wares, Mask thought she might as well keep him company.
Her feet left imprints in the now slushy, brownish-black snow, which she knew very well would soon turn white once more when the next round of flakes fell to the ground. Slender fingers grasped her suspendors; a habit she had picked up while in Manhattan.
Rounding yet another corner, she was dismayed to find it was not Itey standing there, hawking the headline, but Kid Blink. She had been trying to avoid both him and Snoddy for the past few days. It would be rude to turn back now; he had already caugth sight of her, so she stammered an uncertain hello.
To her surprise, Blink, who had been in a rather dark, contemplative mood for the past few days greeted her warmly. She took a seat on an old, worn crate several feet behind him.
"Heya, Blink. Whatcha doin' in Itey's sellin' spot? T'ought you sold wit Ractrack down at Central Park."
He grinned. "I needed a...change of scenery, so I tawked wit him a bit, and we wound up doin' a trade."
Mask blanched. "Race and Itey? Togeddah? I feel sorry for da poor people dey rip off as of today. I mean, what wit Race bein' Race and all, and Itey bein' an ex pick-pocket."
"Naw. Don't worry. Dey won't try anythin'," he smiled, giving a good-natured laugh. "Unless dey fail ta sell all of deir papes and are desperate for a coin or two."
"Hey," Mask asked, suddenly curious, "what did Jake do dat made da Delancey brudders so angry? Dey was chasin' him, chased 'im all da way down ta my sellin' spot."
Blink let out a snort and shook his head. "I dunno. Jake's just as bad as Pie, and aftah his foist meetin' wit da Delancey brudders...well, let's jus' say dey soaked 'im good. A normal poison would've kept clear of dem after, but not Jake. He made it a point to get payback for dat...as much as possible."
Mask laughed. "Yeah, dat sounds like Jake. Quiet guy. Likes readin'. But don't make 'im mad, or else."
Blink gave a distracted nod of agreement, then cleared his throat. "Man gunned down in Central Park! Corpse found nude and decapitated! Read all about it!"
Mask shook her head. "Wheah da hell do ya come up wit all dose gruesome headlines?"
"My deah la-"
"Shaddup."
Blink grinned charmingly. "My deah Mask, you're dealin' wit Kid Blink heah, master of creativity."
Mask reclined on her makeshift seat and listened to Blink yelling the latest news, hot of presses. She studied and observed the people that came and went, and marvelled at society, a rich fabric woven together of many strands.
Finally, when Blink had come down to half the stack, he turned to her.
"Hey, uh, Mask, some guy was just heah lookin' for ya. Didn't get a name, but I can give ya a pretty good description of him."
Curiosity peaked, Mask listened intently.
"Tall guy...not as tall as Jack, but pretty close. Doity-blonde hair, checkered vest, kinda like Race's, blue eyes."
The blood seemed to drain from Mask's face. She stumbled off the crate on unsteady legs, not really hearing Blink's concerned voice asking if she was all right. Righting herself, she locked gazes with the Manhattan newsboy, eyes blazing.
"His eyes...blue...were dey by any chance rimmed wit a kinda...a kinda yellowish color? Almost gold."
Blink paused to think, then shook his head. "Sorry, I can't remembah. But...who is he?"
Mask mumbled something undiscernable, then gathered her papers up and began wandering off in the general direction of Tibby's, not giving even a single backwards glance.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Gambler. Here. In Manhattan. Oh. My. God.
Mask tried to calm herself, telling herself that perhaps it wasn't Gambler, but some other newsboy who had mistaken her for...
What a pathetic excuse, she told herself, Da clothes. Da eyes. Da hair. It all fits. But what does he want wit me? I gave him enough, she thought bitterly, even if it wasn't willingly.
Inwardly screaming in protest, the girl was helpless against the flood of memories that invaded her, helpless as her mind dragged her back to another time, another place...
"Yeah, I know. Da sunset's real beautiful, Gambler, but if dat's what ya want, forget it."
Mask stood, arms folded just outside the abandoned warehouse that the Harlem newsies called home. Gambler stood before her, an entire head taller, looking furious at the rejection.
"Jeez, Mask, whaddaya want? I thought you'd jump at da offah ta spend da night wit me."
Mask scoffed and then allowed a smirk to make a place for itself on her sharp, angular features. "If ya t'inks I'se dat easy, you're wrong. Just 'cause I'se your goil don't mean I'se ready ta sleep wit ya."
Gambler was the picture of rage. Grabbing her arm, he forced her agaisnt a nearby wall. The girl's hand automatically flew to her left pocket, where the brass knuckles were contained, but he managed to catch her wrist before she could get any further, his grip making her wince.
"I don't t'ink so," he hissed, then gave her a genial smile. "I gave you a chance ta consent. Now I'se gettin' what I wants, at your displeasure."
She struggled to free herself from his grasp, but even Mask had to admit, when it came to a contest of strength, she hadn't a prayer.
The girl yelped as he thrust her into the alleyway that made a place for itself between the warehouse and the shop next to it. Pitting herself against him, she fought for all she was worth, going in tooth and nail with a power that could only be bornof desperation.
Finally, Mask succumbed to his fists and iron grip, not even able to scream as he dragged her further in.
Mask shook herself out of her reverie, finding she could walk no further. Exauhsted, though she was not quite sure why, she leaned against a nearby lampost, waiting for her heart rate to return to normal, biting her lip savagely enough that she drew a few drops of blood.
"Mask? You okay?"
The girl turned at the sound of Snoddy's voice, and found herself wanted to run straight into his arms, shrieking out all her insecurities, sobbing out all her cares. Pride wouldn't allow that. Instead, she pulled herself together and gave a wan, uncertain smile, nodding.
"You go ahead ta Tibby's. Get your lunch. I'll be dere."
He gave the girl a doubtful glance, then went on his way, throwing several concerned looks over his shoulder.
Jeez, it's cold out heah. Wish I'd brought a jacket or somethin'. Only I don't have one.
But the biting wind and blinding snow could not add up to the cold she felt inside. Wrapping both arms around herself, she sighed. Summer in New York City was an oven, winter was the far North.
Suddenly, a thought struck her like a lightening bolt.
My papes! I left 'em at Blink's sellin' spot.
The girl turned back, spitting out curses that would have put even Skittery to shame. Ironically, the boy who was capable of forming beautiful nets made of words was also capable of making you believe he had been raised in a gutter. He hadn't been able to outdo Mask, however.
The newsie began adding rants to the curses as the wind increased, driving snow into her eyes. Now, she was groping blindly, and would have been lost had she not taken the time to learn the ways and wiles of the city, inside out.
She made it to Blink's selling spot, to find the boy packing it in and heading for Tibby's, claiming nobody should have to sell in weather like this. mask found her papes where she had left them, and together, the duo struck off towards the diner.
They finally made it, each breathing sighs of relief at the warmth that suddenly filled the air. Mask took a seat in front of Jack and beside Crutchy, allowing her feet to stray onto the tabletop.
Just as she had made herself comfortable, the door flew open once more, allowing gusts of wind and plumes of snow into the place, much to the waiters' chagrin. Racetrack stumbled in, and Itey followed, giving hacking, wrenching coughs that could not possibly be fake.
Mask glanced at him in concern. "Heya, Itey. Toldja ya shouldn't sell taday. Your cold's gettin' worse."
Itey said nothing, just took a seat in the back beside Snitch and Bumlets, Racetrack making a place for himself between Blink and Mush.
And life goes on, Mask thought, but didn't give the contented smile that she wawnted to give. She was too smart for that.
And when life goes on like it should, somethin' always happens.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
For most of the newsies, it was virtually impossible to finish selling all of their papes that day. People had fled the street for the comfort of home, and they did likewise, although the Lodging House wasn't much warmer than it was outside.
congregated in the bunkroom, Racetrack had started up a game of cards...Mask squinted, trying to see exactly what it was they were playing, then gave up. Specs and Bumlets spoke in hushed, quiet tones in a corner of the place, and Mush was raving about some girl he had met several days ago. For just a second, Mask tuned into his conversation with Blink.
"She's poifect! She's got dese eyes dat just...I mean, wow, you should see her! An' she says she's in love wit me, really!"
"So what's new, Mush?"
"Whaddaya mean, what's new? Lemee tell ya..."
Life goes on.
Mask turned over on her side, the corner of her eyes catching a flash of movement. She listened closely as Swifty, Jake, Snipeshooter and Boots laid down several bets.
"Okay," Jake intoned, laying down a few coins. "See dis, Boots? If ya can get up da courage ta ask dat goil ta come ta Irvin' Hall wit ya tanight..."
"Waitasecond!" Boots protested. "Dat was nevah in da deal. I'se just a messanger for..."
Life goes on.
"Hey, Snipes! Stop playin' wit my cigars! Give dat back, ya lousy liddle..."
"Cheer up, Skittery. You'll win da cash back."
"So Bumlets, I'se thinkin' maybe it'd be an opportunity for you an' me ta sell tageddah..."
"I dunno, Crutchy. Keep tawkin'."
"Well, ya see..."
Life goes on.
"How often does somethin' like dat happen? It's a golden opportunity."
Snitch snorted. "Shoah, golden opportuniy. Da problem wit you, Pie, is all you t'ink of is playin' pranks."
"I do not!"
"Ha! Another loss, Race. You should stop gamblin' ya know. You're near flat broke!"
"Jack, da day I stop gamblin' will be da day Skittery lightens up."
"I hoid dat!"
"You was supposed to."
Life goes on...good men die, but life goes on...
"Mask!"
"Huh?"
Mask turned at the sound of Snoddy's voice. He had just come upstairs, and was still coated in snow. Mask chuckled at the comical sight.
"Yeah?"
"Hmm...well, I would ask ya if you was all right, but den again, I'd probably just get a smart answer."
"I'se fine," she replied distractedly. By now, she was used to the fact that the newsboys enjoyed playing on her arrogance, making it painfully clear that she got on their nerves more often than not, and making fun of her vanity.
Hell. It's all in good humor, so who am I ta complain?
Rolling over, the newsgirl brushed past Snoddy, who, used to her vast and startling mood swings and standard contemplative, brooding air, flashed her a short smile, then joined Racetrack and Jack at their game of Poker. Mask cast eyes one last time on the peaceful scene before her, then tramped downstairs, ready to sit by herself on the steps of the Lodging House and allow her thoughts to fly off into the darkness.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Mask lost her balance on the last step and went head over heels onto the wooden floor. Cursing under her breath, the girl picked herself up, pulled a cigar from her pocket and lit up, taking a long drag of the thing and letting the smoke rings vanish into the darkness. Kloppman had left the doors open, and Mask shivered against the chill wind that entered.
Ain't it strange, she thought, the thought coming out of seemingly nowhere, how when we ain't lookin' for t'ings, we find 'em, and are unable ta find dem when we look?
"Haven't changed a bit, have ya, Mask?"
Mask whirled at the soundof an all-too-familiar voice, a voice that she couldn't quite seem to place.
Turning, Mask glanced in the direction the noise had come from, as did Kloppman, who had been working at his desk. Deciding it was nothing of great importance, the man sighed, removed his hat from his head, put away the papers he had been working on a retired to his quarters, giving Mask instruction to shut and lock the doors before going back upstairs. The girl was barely listening, but nodded anyway, watching as a shadows detatched itself from the wall.
And she couldn't help but let out an involuntary gasp.
He was just as she remembered him: Immaculately dressed, or as immaculately dressed as a newsie could be, wide blue eyes ringed with gold deceptively innocent, cigar hanging out of his mouth at a provocative angle. Mask couldn't help but take a step backwards.
"So, I see you'se still da broodin' type," the boy laughed, his smile capable of making one beleive he had not a single wicked bone in his body. Murderer was the last thing that would come to mind, if it came to mind at all.
"Cut to da chase, Gambler. Whaddaya want?" she asked. Her entire body felt numb, phantom pains from previous bruises and abrasions ached, and the control that made her voice harsh terrified her.
"You," he replied, then moved with almost superhuman speed. Mask hadn't noticed the hint of metal that glittered beneath his vest. It came into play as he clutched the handle of the dagger tightly with fingers just as slender as her's, grabbing her collar and bringing it downwards. Mask was frozen, terrified as he buried the handle into the wall beside her. She looked to Kloppman for assistance, but found he had retired to his quarters just seconds ago.
Bad timin'. And I ain't bringin' anyone inta dis. Dis is between me, and him, she thought grimly.
Fast as lightening, the girl shoved him away, then drove a fist straight into his face, drawing blood on the first blow. He stagered backwards for a second, off-balance, then found his footing and rushed her.
"Wrong move," she spat, sidestepping. She was surprised to find he had anticipated such a thing, and changed his course of direction in the blink of an eye, grabbing her around the waist and throwing her to the floor.
Gambler wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then sneered. "Ya think you can outfigtht me? Wrong, Mask. Ya tried dat before, remembah? I'se da best fighter dere is out dere."
"Aside from Spot Conlon," she retorted, then, with a sweep of her legs knocked him of his feet and rose, grabbing the dagger that had long since fallen from his grip. "Ya know a loined a few good moves from him?"
The girl brandished the weapon. "All right, Gambler," she sasid, voice quavering, "I don't know what you wants wit me dis time. But get outta heah. Now, before I changes my mind and drives dis straight inta you, like ya did ta Crash."
"Ya wouldn't have da noive to," he shot back, but retreated nevertheless, fading into the oncoming night.
Snoddy came racing down the stairs, having heard several suspicious noises just as Mask crumpled against the wall, finally allowing tears to course down her cheeks, sobs to wrack her body. She didn't reseist when the newsboy took her into his arms, just let it be for the moment.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It was cold outside, but for some reason, both Snoddy and Mask reveled in the savage bite of the wind and snow. The duo seated themselves on the front steps of the Lodging House, staring darkness in the eye.
"So, ya wanna tell me about it?" Snoddy asked softly. Mask shook her head, the last of her praid having drained clear out of her. The only thing she tasted now was bitterness, bitterness and anger at the life she ahd lead.
Snoddy threw an arm around her shoulder, and she recoiled. He looked almost offended; she had never rejected his touch before. Finally, she seemed to deflate, letting out a long sigh and slumping against the wall of the place the Manhattan newsies called home.
"My name ain't Key. And it ain't Mask. Or Scrap, or Wave, or anythin' like dat. It's Mara. Mara Charlotte Delancey."
"Yeah, I know, ya told us," he replied, voice devoid of all emotion, just sitting there, watching her, waiting for her to go on.
For a few seconds, she remained silent, then continued.
"I wasn't always da notorious Key, ya know," she said, laughing softly. "Dere was a time when I was Mara, just Mara. I lived in Virginia," she added, seemingly as an afterthought. "Wit me parents and bruddah. His name was Martin."
"Mask, ya don't have ta go on if you don't want to," Snoddy offered, but she shook her head once more.
"I need to tell someone," she replied in strangled tones. "I been wantin' to for years...just didn't know how or who ta tell. Now I do," she said bluntly.
"T'ings hadn't been goin' so good between me muddah an' me," she said, staring at thing air. "Dat's da one thing I regret. I..." her voice trembled violently, and she fell silent.
Snoddy's hand reached out and grasped her arm in a gesture meant to be reassuring, but filled with tentativeness, as if afraid it would be unwelcome there. She did nothing this time, to shake off the touch.
"I guess ya could say I was just your average goil. I was doin' okay wit me studies, a bit crazy, a bit reckless," she laughed, and now, it seemed as though she were talking more to herself than to Snoddy. "But just...me. A goil. Mara Charlotte Delancey. I was closer to me faddah and bruddah den me muddah, and...I guess ya could say I was obsessed wit theatrics. I loved da art of illusion."
Someting sparked in Snoddy's mind, and he decided to interupt her. "Does dis have anythin' ta do wit Medda Larkson? Ya asked me about her before."
"Yes." The word was whispered. "She was...what ya might consider my mentor when it came to da ways of da stage, masks, illusion, performance and everything like dat. Back den, while she was still in Virginia, she was just a smalltime showgoil. I was more den surprised when I found out she owned Irving Hall."
"You paid a visit ta her yet?"
"Naw."
"Why not?"
Mask hesitated. "I'se afraid...afraid of how she'd react...aftah all dese years, I mean."
Snoddy raised an eyebrow in question. Mask didn't even glance at him, but went on to explain.
"Well, one night, a careless servant...one of ours, must've thrown his cigar down somewhere in da barn. Da hay caught fire, da burn was burnt down. Da fire had spread to da house. At least dat's what I thought. Latah, I was told it was suspected arson."
Silence.
Snoddy looked up expectantly. "And you're guilty. Guilty for..."
"For survivin'. Yeah, dat's right," she murmured. "I...a friend of me faddah's...helped me out kinda." She groped for words. "He...I t'ink he carried me out but..it was all heat an' flames an' screamin', and suddenly, I was outside."
"I didn't botha runnin', I let da orphanage take me. But as ya get older, if you're still in dat hellhole, da angels lose interest in ya, and nobody comes to rescue you," she said almost wistfully. At Snoddy's confused look, the girl began phrasing things a little differently.
"What I mean is, as an older kid, ya have fewer chances of being adopted. Nobody came for me, and I was almost in my teens by den. So I escaped."
"How?"
"I loined a few things. You'se lookin' at a genuine, professional lockpick heah. I escaped at night, and hitched da nearest train to New Yawk. It was da biggest mistake I evah made."
Snoddy raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't say dat."
"I would," she replied. "I ended up in Harlem, satyed dere for a liddle while makin' me livin' as a pickpocket and thief. Den, I started hearin' things about a certain person...Spot Conlon, most famed newsie of 'em all. I don't really know why," she added honestly, "but I just had ta go an' see him. Guess Martin...my bruddah's curiosity rubbed off on me."
"I stayed in Brooklyn for a liddle while. My search for Spot was kinda delayed because of all da business opportunities I found dere...if ya get what I mean. It was heaven for a pickpocket. Well, I pickpocketed da wrong poison. Which is how I ran inta Spot."
Snoddy gave a noise halfway between astonishment and laughter. "You tried ta rob Spot Conlon?"
"Hey, how was I supposed ta know what he looked like?"
There was a long pause. Snoddy stared at her hard. "You two..." he hesitated, "...you two fell in love, didn'tcha? Don't look so surprised. Everybody knows da story of da Key of Brooklyn. But why'd ya leave him?"
"I don't know," she answered, eyes covered by shadows. "I honestly don't know. Maybe I was tryin' ta compensate for what I lost in da fire...tryin' ta spread da pain I'd been feelin' for years."
Snoddy nodded knowingly, then lt ehr continue.
"Anyway, I moved ta Harlem. Stayed wit da newsies dere for a liddle while. Our leadah...ya remembah her? Was Crash."
"She's dead now, isn't she?"
"Yeah. Wanna know how she was killed?" the newsgirl asked with more than a shadow of bitterness in her voice. Snoddy didn't reply, unsure of what t say. She answered her own question. "Gambler killed her. She and him was always fightin' for control of da group. One day, he took it a step too far. Stabbed her wit dat dagger of his. Dat was aftah he...raped me."
She said the words softly, shyly, ashamed. But they hit Snoddy like boulders, and he snapped to attention instantly. "He what?"
"Gambler always gets what he wants," she explained, "and when someone refuses him, he takes it by force. No mattah what da consequences."
In the dim lamplight, Snoddy realized she was crying, but seemed rooted in place, unable to make any gestures of comfort. He just listened to what she had to say.
"Aftah dat, he took ovah, making Crash's murder look like an accident. Things fell inta chaos. He was leader when he felt like it," she added with a sneer. "When it didn't suit him, somebody else took ovah. Dat's wheah da Harlem newsies get deir name for being the most loosely-woven, disorganized group in all of New Yawk City."
"I couldn't take dat kinda life anymore. Couldn't stand livin' wit Gambler..." her voice cracked, and she went on with an effort, "livin' wit Gambler knowin' dat he'd won. He- he was...publicizing it...makin' a big deal of what he'd done to...well, y'know. I don't know. Somethin' just snapped; I left Harlem dat night, left, ran and didn't stop runnin'."
"And dat kid, da one downstairs, dat was him?"
She nodded wordlessly. Snoddy finally gathered her up in his arms, a broken, sorry bundle, ruined by the course life had taken her down.
"What does he want?"
"I-I don't know," she stammered, looking, for the first time in ages, exceedingly insecure. "I gotta..." her eyes widened, flashing emerald in what little light there was as realization dawned on her. "I gotta go back to Harlem," she said firmly. Snoddy's muscles tenes.
"Why?"
"I...I have a fried dere. Her name's Roof. She'll help me, she'll know."
Reluctantly, Snoddy released her and nodded in agreement. "But you ain't goin' alone."
"No, I am. Dis is one journey I'se makin' by myself, just for da record," she said wryly, then allowed him to lead her back to the bunkroom, her feelings in turmoil, but more at peace with herself than she had been in years.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Wheah's Mask?"
Snoddy turned at Blink's question, ready to snap rudely at him as he had done so for the past few weeks. He decided against it when he saw the genuine concern radiating from his friend's single eye.
"In Ha...she's..." Snoddy ran a hand through dark hair, genuinely apologetic. "I'se real sorry, Blink, but I can't tell ya dat."
Blink decided to push the matter. "Why not?"
"Look, Blink, don't make me mad, okay? I said no. Dat should be enough."
Blink continued following his friend. The washroom was crowded as always, and as much as possible, Snoddy wanted to avoid the prying eyes of his comrades. Turning to Blink, he took on a pleading tone.
"C'mon, Blink, just let it drop. Let it go."
"Hey, she's my concern, too, ya know."
Snoddy turned on him, shoving him against the wall. "Ya know, ever since dat goil's arrived, you make it seem like she belongs ta you, and you alone! Haven't ya evah though of what she wanted?"
Blink pushed Snoddy away, glaring. "I wouldn't tawk, ya know."
Before Snoddy knew what he was doing, he had decked Blink with his fist in a single, fluid motion. Blink staggered backwards, clutching his jaw, a rapidly forming bruise upon it. Blood leaked from his mouth.
Snoddy moved forwards, staring at his fist, appalled. "Blink...I'se real...I didn't..."
"Can it," Blink snapped, grabbed his hat and stormed out of the room. All had fallen silent, and snoddy was painfully aware of the accusing stares that were being cast upon him. He followed Blink's lead, leaving the place behind.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Mask kept her head down against the snow that had very quickly turned to rain. The girl shivered violently, and not entirely from the physical cold. She had crossed the border of Harlem twenty minutes ago, and could only hope that Gambler was still in Manhattan. If she showed up, he would have every right to either soak her himself, or get several of his goons to do it for him.
There were fewer people out on the street, which made the going easier. Jamming her hands into her pocket, the girl regretted putting her hair up in a braid. She enjoyed the way the thick locks covered and warmed the back of her neck, especially on cold days like this.
Oh well. Dat's how I've always styled it, and dat's how it stays.
A sudden flash of movement from up above caught her eye, and she couldn't stop a grin from spreading across her face.
On the rooftop, a girl no older than she was perched, glancing about warily. Her blue eyes sparkled with laughter, wawtching as the two blue-suited officers passed by right underneath her. With a toss of her golden head, she waited several more seconds, then clambered expertly to the ground, and, whistling a jaunty tune, strode off in a northeasterly direction.
Mask caught her before she could go any further, slipping and sliding in the snow, but managing to keep her balance. She laid a weary hand on the girl's shoulder. The girl spun around, alarmed, then squinted, as though trying to recall something.
"Roof," Mask said, her voice betraying more than a hint of fatigue. She hadn't had breakfast that morning, and had walked nonstop, fast and hard. Roof's gaze narrowed further, then her eyes widened. For once, the talkative Gossip Queen was dumbstruck.
"Mask! Jeez, Mask...it's been weeks, but it feels like ages! Wheah ya been?"
"Manhattan," the latter replied shortly.
Roof gave a knowing nod, then awkwardly embraced her old friend. "I'se been missin' ya, but I guess your location as of right now is for da best," she said honestly. Mask nodded in wholehearted agreement, then, after clamping her hands into fists drew in a breath of frigid air.
"Gambler...is he...is he heah?"
Roof's eyelids dropped. "Naw. He left for Manhattan last night. He..." recognition dawned upon the girl, and she looked up, stunned. "He's really serious, ain't he?"
Mask grabbed her friend's shoulders and gave her a rough shake. "Whaddaya mean, "he's really serious?""
Roof's face turned grim, and she pursed her lips till they whitened.
"Come wit me."
Mask balked. "Look, Roof, I ain't showin' me face in dat warehouse no more," she sasid, blood rising to her cheeks. "Everybody knows what happened wit...well, you know."
Roof laid a sympathetic hand on Mask's arm, giving her a wan, tired smile. "Don't worry about it. Everybody's at da diner, dat's wheah dey spends most of deir time nowadays. And besides, what I've got ta say..."
Roof let the words hand, and Mask couldn't help but grin. The girl should have been an entertainer; she enjoyed drawing out suspense.
"What I've got ta say," Roof continued, "...could save your life."
Mask's smile vanished almsot instantly. Without a sound, the girl bowed her head against the elements and tramped off into the snow, following roof to the empty, abandoned warehouse, which seemed colder than it had ever been before.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Mask arrived in the dead of night, tramping into Manhattan from Harlem, her feet automatically taking her to the doors of the Lodging House, which thankfully were still unlocked. Throwing them open, the girl stomped up the stairs, knowing that most of her friends would still be awake even at this ungodly hour.
Her suspicions were confirmed when, before she entered the bunkroom, Race's voice floated out towards her, loud and insulting.
In no mood for banter of any sort, Mask tried to make herself invisible as she made her entrance, trying blend with the shadows, trying to become a shadow.
"Hey fellas, look who's back!" Boots called out, voice laden with good humor. Mask grimaced as Specs, nearest to her gave her a slap on the back.
"Wheah ya been, Mask?" he chuckled. Mask mumbled something, and he didn't question her any further.
Thew newsie threw herself down onto the bunk that she had called her's for a month or so now, and tried to block out the noise, all in vain.
"...Come on, Martin! It was just a few words. That shouldn't break up a friendship like that!"
Martin turned to his sister, the frightful glare on his face contrasting sharply to the greenery of the surrounding meadow. Mara backed up a pace or two.
"Hey, I never asked for it to happen. But Francis...he just starts things. He always liked picking fights."
"You know he didn't mean what he said. He was angry," Mara pleaded, "and we do things whenever we're angry. You've just got to learn how to let go..."
How to let it go. I wish I'd take me own advice, Mask thought bitterly, because I can't seem ta let go.
She recounted the disturbing news given to her by Roof, letting it hang heavy on her heart, letting it consume every single part of her mind. No, letting go never came easy. She would have to be on guard now.
"Hey Mask, join us, huh?"
Mask turned and found herself staring straight into Racetrack's face. She reached out and tried to shove him away, but he dodged her hand. The two had had a bad relashionship going for quite awhile, constantly bickering, Race finding Mask far too uptight, Mask finding Race far too free with both money and cares.
"I ain't it da mood for it."
Race rolled his eyes. "When are ya gonna lighten up, huh?"
She didn't bother answering, stuffing her head underneath her pillow and trying not the hear him. But she knew he would persist, and persist he did.
"Wasn't it you who gave me da advice, 'if ya can't beat 'em, join em?' Well, you'se certainly not gonna be able ta tear us away from our card games, so ya might as well join us," he stated, grinning triumphantly. Mask regarded him for a second, then turned away.
"Like I said, I ain't in da mood."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Snoddy ran into Mask halfway to the Lodging House, each heading in opposite directions. He looked surprised to see her, although Mask wasn't quite sure why. Her night time walks had become a normal thing to all the newsboys; nobody questioned her and nobody tried to stop her.
"Heya, Mask. Out again, I see?"
"Yep. But what are you doin' out? I thought I was da only one who did dese kind of senseless things," she smiled, attempting a halfhearted joke. Snoddy raised an eyebrow.
"Sometin's up. Nowadays, you're usually da female version of Skittery. Why so happy all of a sudden?"
She slumped. "I ain't happy. In fact, I'se far from happy."
"Dat sounds more like da goil we all know and love," Snoddy chuckled, throwing an arm about her shoulders. She looked up at him and smiled appreciatively.
"Now, what's botherin' ya?"
"I don't wanna tawk about it."
"You're gonna tawk about it sooner or latah," the boy pointed out. "Da things we keep inside...if we do keep 'em inside for too long, it explodes. All comes down to an angry shout. Bettah ta release 'em before dat happens."
"Are you tryin' ta pry?"
"Naw. Just pointin' out what I think'll woik ta your benifit."
"My benifit?" the girl scoffed. "Since when did you care?"
Snoddy grabbed her arm and whirled her around so that she faced him. His eyes were coals in the darkness, blazing emotion. "See? Dat's da problem wit ya. Ya supress your emotions. Ya shut everybody out. Ya can't let go of things. And you believe dat's a healthy lifestyle!"
Mask, to her surprise, found herself yelling right back. "I know it ain't a healthy lifestyle! I wanna be...me," she managed to get out, "but I can't! 'Cause..."
She stopped and stalked ahead of him, tears streaking her face. Snoddy caught up to her, grasping her shoulders. "'Cause what?"
She winced a little as his grip tightened. "'Cause..." she groped for words. "'Cause...da real me ain't worth anythin'," she said, her eyes showing clearly that she was willing the other to understand exactly what she was saying. But she didn't have to. He already knew.
Drawing a bit closer to her, the boy gave a crooked smile. "Yes, da real you is worth somethin'. Worth a lot."
"How would you know?"
"Mask," Snoddy said, exasperated, "ya may t'ink you'se been doin' a good job, hidin' yourself, hidin' your past, but it shows, and it shows painfully clear."
"Mask?"
Mask turned at the familiar voice, and so did Snoddy. A slim, petite figure interposed herself between the two, stepping into the lamplight. Blonde hair glinted in the flames, blue eyes danced with merriment.
"Roof? Whatcha doin' heah in Manhattan?"
Roof stepped forwards a bit, throwing an apprehensive glance at Snoddy. The two girls were alike in many ways. Anybody who knew them, and knew them well would have sworn that they had come from the same parents. Both were wary, untrusting creatures, finding trust a thing hard to give to people. But once given, they would fight to the death for the ones they loved, and stand by them no matter what winds blew and what storms occured. However, while Mask was tended to close herself up a bit more, dark and depressed, her mood swings constant and unpredictable, Roof was a bubbly, steady, open girl, unafraid to discuss the past.
Snoddy returned Roof's gaze and gave her a nod of recognition. Roof grinned impishly and elbowed Mask. "See ya found yourself a boy."
Mask blushed and very ill-temperdly shoved her friend aside. "What're ya tawkin' about?"
"I see you're still in denial. You'll come around."
Snoddy laughed at the outraged expression on Mask's face, introduced himself to the newcomer, then tuned in to what the two girls were talking about.
The words were whispered, but he managed to catch a few.
"...Gambler...heah in...aftah..."
"Speakin' of...just...Crash."
"...ovah it...dead."
Snoddy jerked to attention at the last word, and gazed intently at them, the intensity of his gaze drawing Mask's attention. Roof looked up as well, following her friend's eyes. She gave Snoddy a long, hard, stare.
"What're ya doin', listenin' in?"
Snoddy threw an arm around Mask's shoulders: a gesture that had become familiar to her. "Dis heah's my friend," he stated matter-of-factly, "and anythin' concerin' her, concern's me."
"The mentality of Manhattan newsies," Mask said playfully, giving him a shove. But somehow, although she would not admit it, it had become her mentality as well, with some effort. Turning to Roof, she raised an eyebrow. "So, we gonna let him in on dis?"
"He's your boyfriend. Your call."
The girl glowered. "He is not me boyfriend."
"Shoah. Whatevah ya say."
"If you wasn't one of me best friends, I'd soak ya."
"Uh-huh. Like ya could if ya tried."
"Hey, don't say dat ta da goil who-"
"Who got beaten prety badly in our last fight?"
"Ladies, please," Snoddy cut in. Both turned to look at him. "Quit arguin'. Now, what was ya gonna tell me?"
Mask gave Roof a significant glance and cleared her throat. Roof nodded knowingly.
"Ah. I see. You wants some time alone wit your boyfriend," she said slyly. Mask turned to say something to her, but she had vanished somewhere into the darkness.
Soddy looked at his friend, amused, then settled in for the next part of her story.
She ran a hand through her hair, a familiar gesture by now, and took in a sharp breath. "Okay...I don't know why I'se tellin' ya dis..."
"You'se tellin' me 'cause we all gotta story, and we all gotta spill it sometime or da odder."
"Once more, your logic astounds me," she sasid sarcastically, but there was truth behind those words. "Anyway, in a nutshell: Gambler's out for me blood."
"What? Why?"
Mask's face was expressionless, but her tone was wry with bitterness and laden with insecurity. "I toldja how he became leadah of da Harlem newsies. Toins out, dat's not exactly what dey wanted," she added, voice dripping sarcasm, just to honey-coat the understatement. "And now, dey're callin' for a new leader. Nobody's ready ta take on Gambler, though. Dey figured..."
She paused, and hesitated, then, without even a trace of modesty added, "...dey figured dat I'd best suit da position." She laughed bitterly. "Dey're usin' me, dat's what," she interupted before Snoddy could get a word out. "Dey t'ink dat I'd be angry and stupid enough because of what Gambler did...well, ya know. Dey t'ink dat'd make me angry and stupid enough ta try and take on him. Shoah, I could beat him in a one-on-one fight...if it was short enough. But he's got da stamina I don't have."
One of the things Snoddy noticed about the girl, was that along with her arrogance, she was able to be brutally honest with herself. It was a sharp contrast.
"So, he figures dat da best way ta ensure his position as leader is ta..." Snoddy cut himself off, eyes widening.
Mask nodded grimly, and Snoddy grabbed her shoulders, giving them a good shake. "Mask, do you realize da position you'se in? My God, Mask, he's out ta kill you."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The Mask of Harlem ran into Manhattan's one and only Cowboy as she re-entered the Lodging House. What reason he had for being up so late, she didn't know and didn't care to ask. She stepped back a bit, allowing Snoddy to tramp up the stairs without her, locking eyes with Jack.
Hazel eyes. Beautiful hazel eyes. Eyes I always wanted ta have, she thought wistfully, Francis Sullivan's face coming back to her in a flash.
And she decided to take the chance.
Reaching out, she grabbed Jack's arm before he could throw down the ciagarette he'd been smoking. He glanced at her, bewildered. She smiled and cleared her throat.
"Earthshine: is the thread of life. Life is earth, it make the earth shine. Everything's interwoven."
Jack's eyes narrowed, then widened, then narrowed again.
"Hey, where'd ya get dat?"
"From you, Francis," she replied casually, savouring the shocked expression that his face formed with wicked delight. Jack stammered something, then was struck totally silent, his eyes regarding her as though she were a woman risen from the grave.
And in a way, she was.
And then, he tossed the cigarette aside, sweeping her into a hug that was so ferocious, it could have been called violent. She half laughed, half sobbed, throwing her arms around his neck, a lifetime of memories coming back to her in the course of a few seconds.
Jack finally put her down, both their shadows cast against the wall of the Lodging House by the dim street lamp that flickered outside. He stared at her, not quite comprehending what had just occured.
"Mara," he said almost flatly, "I...I had no idea. I thought dere was somethin' about ya...I...I nevah realized...you're da Key of Brooklyn?"
"Yeah," she replied, foolish, lopsided grin on her face, the sheer happiness of the moment causing her to appear almost in drunken state.
"My. God. I hoid..." his voice grew subdued, and he fought back the darkness that was very quickly rising in his eyes. "Aftah da fire, I hoid you was sent to da orphanage. Nevah hoid anythin' else aftah dat. Nevah knew what happened ta you."
"Jack Kelly, leader of da Manhattan newsies," Mask half chortled. "Martin would nevah let ya heah da end of it."
"No, he wouldn't," Jack said softly, reaching out and grasping her face between calloused hands. "You've changed, Mask. But you'll always be my adopted sister," he added with a laugh. "Still filled wit enough vanity ta make one sick."
"And lovin' it." She glanced at him strangely. "So how'd you get outta Virginia? Your faddah actually let you?"
Jack lowered his eyes, a blush spreading over his cheeks. "My faddah...he's in jail."
Mask wasn't surprised by the news.
"I'se real sorry."
"Don't be," Jack shot back, face hardening again. "He desoived it."
Silence.
"I...Medda had already moved on ta New Yawk when me faddah was arrested. She didn't let da orphanage take me. Instead, she sent me a bit of cash and I hitched da next train outta dere. She was supposed ta take me in...but..." he jammed his hands into his pockets. "...life in da house never suited me. So I took to da streets. Besides," he added, looking somewhat uncertain. "She'd nevah have had da money ta support both her and me." He glanced at Mask. "You understand, right?"
"Yeah. I understand."
Jack paused, drawing in a breath. "Martin was me best friend," he said simply, as though giving a delayed eulogy for a person, stuck somewhere between boy and man, long dead. "He was dere when me muddah died...he was dere when even when me faddah started drinkin'. I miss him."
"I miss him, too."
And the shadows danced, in the eyes of Francis Sullivan, Jack Kelly, Cowboy, leader of the Manhattan newsboys and Mara Charlotte McKeary, Mask of Harlem, Key of Brooklyn. They cast themselves everywhere, acting out a play of sorts, writing the story of many without words.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Mask lay back in her bunk, and for a moment, she was not at the Lodging House, but deep in the heart of Virginia, listening to the crickets sing as darkness took over.
Earthshine...
The clouds rolled back to reveal a sky of pure black, stars sprawled over the uncharted distance. Mara lay back in the cool grass, accompanied not only by Martin, but by Francis, just as glad to be out of the house and outdoors.
"Francis?" Mara asked, voice soft.
"Hmmm?"
"What's it like, not having a mother?"
Silence.
Only a child could ask a question so brutally honest. Francis said nothing, and Martin shot her a deadly glare. She shrugged, an innocent look pasted onto her face. The boy's mother had left this world not too long ago, and Mr. Sullivan, his father, once a wealthy businessman had been fighting a losing battle against alchohol and violent explosions of rage.
Martin hissed something into his sister's ear, but she didn't have time to comprehend what was being said. Francis gave his friend's sleeve a tug, and shook his head. "Hey, come on. Lighten up!"
"Martin, what's earthshine?"
Both boys turned their heads at the sudden, and rather abrupt change of subject. Martin couldn't stop a grin, and he reached over and chucked the girl gently under the chin.
"Where do you get these words? I'm not even sure if that one exists."
"Yes, it does," Francis piped up fervently. "Earthshine:" he cleared his throat significantly, then gave a definition, as though he were reading out of a dictionary. "...is the thread of life. Life is earth, it make the earth shine. Everything's interwoven."
Martin gave his friend a playful shove. "And you, where do you get these sappy things?"
The two fell to playfighting, leaving Mara to wonder. She didn't consider such things 'sappy'. She didn't fully comprehend the words, but they mistified her anyway...
And Mask's gaze travelled through the darkened room, towards the bunk at the far end, Jack Kelly's bunk. And something familiar, a recognition seemed to stir within her.
Earthshine...it's a beautiful woid.
She fell asleep with this thought, and for once, was plagued with no nightmares. Only shadows flickered in her mind. Everybody in life was a shadow.
And shadows are never constant.