Ch. 3
The next day was Sunday, and we all slept in a bit. Jump and I stayed in
Mrs. Larson's room on Dutchy's request. I was glad he was so insistent
about me sleeping there. In truth, though I fully trusted most of the boys
in Manhattan, there were some that I would never trust to sleep in the same
room with. I knew a few of them had girls up there all the time, and it
was something I just did not want to be a part of. They didn't think of me
as a "working goil," as they called them, but I didn't want to give them
any reason to start. This lodging house was the only thing I had in my
life that was a constant, and I wasn't even guaranteed a place, if I ever
stopped selling. I had to pay the five cents a week fee like every other
newsie.
I awoke to a pair of devastating blue eyes staring me down, and for a moment I wasn't sure if they belonged to Dutchy or Jump, but I soon learned as I was attacked by the little seven year old bundle of energy.
"Miss! Miss, is you awake yet? I seed you's eyes open!"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm awake," I stretched and forced myself not to correct her speech. It was too early and I'd just confuse both of us by saying, "No, are you awake," so I contented myself with peeling her off of me and tickling her. I dressed Jump and myself, and fixing a hat on my head, I lead Jump over to where Mush had his hands full with all the kids.
"Mush, you under there?" I called. From what I could see, he was a pile of rowdy seven to ten year olds with a curly mop peeking out the top.
"I tink so!" I heard his muffled call and let Jump run and dive into the pile of kids, who now decided it would be a good idea to tickle him until he fell to the floor hysterically laughing. Every newsie quickly found out that Mush was so ticklish, you could get anything from him by threatening to tickle him to death.
I left the pile that was Mush and made my way over to the common room where a bunch of newsies were lounging around, enjoying the relative calm that was always Sunday mornings. Some greeted me, but most just went on talking or playing their card game, eating a saved roll or whatever they were doing.
I looked around for Dutchy and found that he was sitting in a shadowed corner, staring off into space, his mouth hanging open. His eyes were glazed over, and his glasses were in his hand. I gasped and ran over to him.
"Dutchy! Where were ya last night!? You had me worried sick, Blink and I ran all the way to Medda's looking for you, and we couldn't find you, and I was so afraid you were never gonna come back-" I stopped short when he didn't acknowledge my presence and waved a hand in front of his face.
"Duuuuuu-tchy? Dutchy?" I asked, frowning. He continued to stare off into oblivion, and I picked up one of his hands, shuddering at its wintry, clammy feel. I felt that sickening feeling again, warning me that I was about to cry. I felt like such a sick weakling. I was disgusted with myself.
So I stopped trying to rouse him, gathered all my courage, pulled my hand back slowly, and slapped him in the face.
"Whadda, whassa, do dat foah?" he screamed, leaning back against the wall. My eyes were each as wide as a saucer as I tried to figure out what it was that had him so.detached.
"Dutchy. you were. gone. I didn't know what else to do you weren't looking at me, you weren't talking, and I thought you had fainted or died or something."
Dutchy interrupted my rambling with a slimy, sweaty hand over my mouth. "Miss, is okay. I's fine. Now. jus. sit for a minute." He looked purposefully over my shoulder and I suddenly realized that even Mush and the kids were dead silent and staring at me.
Jack walked in at that moment and looked around at our silent faces. "What? What? Who died?" He asked.
"Dunno, but I guess Dutchy was bein weird, Cowboy." Mush spoke up, herding the kids out into the sun, as it was just about time for the afternoon edition of The World to be sold.
"Out! Everyone! Ya newsies or what, lets get goin!" Jack barked at the newsies. They got up, and slap boxing, playfully berating each other and discussing Dutchy and my strange performance, made their way out into the sun to the distribution offices. Dutchy and I stayed at a sharp look from Jack. He took on a look of concern and strolled over to us. Confident that Jack had the situation under control, the other newsies found their selling partners, and started discussing the day's selling out in the square. Dutchy was sitting in the shadowed corner looking like a ghost. He was pale by nature, with pale lips, pale skin, pale hair, pale eyebrows, and pale eyelashes, but I noticed at that moment that his skin looked draped over his cheekbones, and held none of its usual patina. Dutchy, my best friend, companion, and selling partner, actually, physically pushed me roughly away as he became uncomfortable with my examination of his appearance. I fell against the wall with a sickening crunch of my toes, which had been curled under me.
"Hey! That ain't no way to treat a lady, and ya best friend at that!" Jack raised his voice in disgust and helped me up. Dutchy stood as well, cracked his knuckles this way and that, and for a moment, I didn't recognize him. There was a rage in his tired, sunken eyes that I'd never seen before. He looked like he wanted to talk back to Jack, but suddenly he looked surprised. A bit of the kindness came back into his baby blues, and a ghost of a sad smile flitted across his pale lips. He reached out to touch my arm, but Jack moved to stand in front of me. "Apologize, Dutch boy," Jack demanded, spitting out Dutchy's name like a curse.
I stepped out from behind Jack, and before anybody could say anything or move, I flung my arms around Dutchy's neck and he wrapped me up. Jack flinched towards us, and then relaxed as he heard Dutchy's murmurs.
"I's sorry Miss, ya know that, ya just creeped me out, I's just tired, is all. If ya only knew."
"Only knew what?" I murmured back, not really caring. I wasn't usually into other people's business anyway, not even my closest friends. I buried my head in the gangly boy's chest and stood for a moment, enjoying the feeling of comfort. I knew it was all okay. He knew it was all okay. We just did. It was a basic principle of a friendship; one had to trust their friends completely, and trust was one of the main things we had built our friendship upon. I trusted Dutchy with my life, and he trusted me with his. I would do anything to protect him, and he would do anything to protect me.
Jack left, sighing and a bit cut down after I had shown him a blatant disregard for his help. He trudged out of the lodging house muttering something incoherently. We watched him walk out of earshot.
"Dutchy," I turned to him, and sought the intimacy I found only with him. It's that secret lingo people share communicated with the complex words and dialects of the eyes, the window to the soul. There was only one person I could read like an open book, and now I could see the hurt behind Dutchy's eyes. "Where were you last night?" I asked, not really expecting an answer. I walked with him slowly to the distribution offices, hoping to God that they still had some papes. I was surprised when I heard him start talking.
"Ya know, it's okay, Miss. Cause we gots food ta eat, and a roof ova our heads. and we neva hafta worry about, about. sickness, or starvation, or freezing to death." He paused and I didn't say anything, afraid that if he was going to continue, I would stop him. "An-and even if is just 'cause we's needed by Pulitzah 'n them , even if we's just used and treated like scum. we's alive ain't we? Ain't we Miss?" I smiled at his enigmatic question.
"As alive as it's possible to be, Dutch boy. We are so alive." I couldn't help thinking about how the fear had taken a grip on my heart earlier that day when his eyes had been so shallow, so cold. More like glorified marbles in a life-sized rag doll than the actual soulful orbs I had come to depend on.
I awoke to a pair of devastating blue eyes staring me down, and for a moment I wasn't sure if they belonged to Dutchy or Jump, but I soon learned as I was attacked by the little seven year old bundle of energy.
"Miss! Miss, is you awake yet? I seed you's eyes open!"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm awake," I stretched and forced myself not to correct her speech. It was too early and I'd just confuse both of us by saying, "No, are you awake," so I contented myself with peeling her off of me and tickling her. I dressed Jump and myself, and fixing a hat on my head, I lead Jump over to where Mush had his hands full with all the kids.
"Mush, you under there?" I called. From what I could see, he was a pile of rowdy seven to ten year olds with a curly mop peeking out the top.
"I tink so!" I heard his muffled call and let Jump run and dive into the pile of kids, who now decided it would be a good idea to tickle him until he fell to the floor hysterically laughing. Every newsie quickly found out that Mush was so ticklish, you could get anything from him by threatening to tickle him to death.
I left the pile that was Mush and made my way over to the common room where a bunch of newsies were lounging around, enjoying the relative calm that was always Sunday mornings. Some greeted me, but most just went on talking or playing their card game, eating a saved roll or whatever they were doing.
I looked around for Dutchy and found that he was sitting in a shadowed corner, staring off into space, his mouth hanging open. His eyes were glazed over, and his glasses were in his hand. I gasped and ran over to him.
"Dutchy! Where were ya last night!? You had me worried sick, Blink and I ran all the way to Medda's looking for you, and we couldn't find you, and I was so afraid you were never gonna come back-" I stopped short when he didn't acknowledge my presence and waved a hand in front of his face.
"Duuuuuu-tchy? Dutchy?" I asked, frowning. He continued to stare off into oblivion, and I picked up one of his hands, shuddering at its wintry, clammy feel. I felt that sickening feeling again, warning me that I was about to cry. I felt like such a sick weakling. I was disgusted with myself.
So I stopped trying to rouse him, gathered all my courage, pulled my hand back slowly, and slapped him in the face.
"Whadda, whassa, do dat foah?" he screamed, leaning back against the wall. My eyes were each as wide as a saucer as I tried to figure out what it was that had him so.detached.
"Dutchy. you were. gone. I didn't know what else to do you weren't looking at me, you weren't talking, and I thought you had fainted or died or something."
Dutchy interrupted my rambling with a slimy, sweaty hand over my mouth. "Miss, is okay. I's fine. Now. jus. sit for a minute." He looked purposefully over my shoulder and I suddenly realized that even Mush and the kids were dead silent and staring at me.
Jack walked in at that moment and looked around at our silent faces. "What? What? Who died?" He asked.
"Dunno, but I guess Dutchy was bein weird, Cowboy." Mush spoke up, herding the kids out into the sun, as it was just about time for the afternoon edition of The World to be sold.
"Out! Everyone! Ya newsies or what, lets get goin!" Jack barked at the newsies. They got up, and slap boxing, playfully berating each other and discussing Dutchy and my strange performance, made their way out into the sun to the distribution offices. Dutchy and I stayed at a sharp look from Jack. He took on a look of concern and strolled over to us. Confident that Jack had the situation under control, the other newsies found their selling partners, and started discussing the day's selling out in the square. Dutchy was sitting in the shadowed corner looking like a ghost. He was pale by nature, with pale lips, pale skin, pale hair, pale eyebrows, and pale eyelashes, but I noticed at that moment that his skin looked draped over his cheekbones, and held none of its usual patina. Dutchy, my best friend, companion, and selling partner, actually, physically pushed me roughly away as he became uncomfortable with my examination of his appearance. I fell against the wall with a sickening crunch of my toes, which had been curled under me.
"Hey! That ain't no way to treat a lady, and ya best friend at that!" Jack raised his voice in disgust and helped me up. Dutchy stood as well, cracked his knuckles this way and that, and for a moment, I didn't recognize him. There was a rage in his tired, sunken eyes that I'd never seen before. He looked like he wanted to talk back to Jack, but suddenly he looked surprised. A bit of the kindness came back into his baby blues, and a ghost of a sad smile flitted across his pale lips. He reached out to touch my arm, but Jack moved to stand in front of me. "Apologize, Dutch boy," Jack demanded, spitting out Dutchy's name like a curse.
I stepped out from behind Jack, and before anybody could say anything or move, I flung my arms around Dutchy's neck and he wrapped me up. Jack flinched towards us, and then relaxed as he heard Dutchy's murmurs.
"I's sorry Miss, ya know that, ya just creeped me out, I's just tired, is all. If ya only knew."
"Only knew what?" I murmured back, not really caring. I wasn't usually into other people's business anyway, not even my closest friends. I buried my head in the gangly boy's chest and stood for a moment, enjoying the feeling of comfort. I knew it was all okay. He knew it was all okay. We just did. It was a basic principle of a friendship; one had to trust their friends completely, and trust was one of the main things we had built our friendship upon. I trusted Dutchy with my life, and he trusted me with his. I would do anything to protect him, and he would do anything to protect me.
Jack left, sighing and a bit cut down after I had shown him a blatant disregard for his help. He trudged out of the lodging house muttering something incoherently. We watched him walk out of earshot.
"Dutchy," I turned to him, and sought the intimacy I found only with him. It's that secret lingo people share communicated with the complex words and dialects of the eyes, the window to the soul. There was only one person I could read like an open book, and now I could see the hurt behind Dutchy's eyes. "Where were you last night?" I asked, not really expecting an answer. I walked with him slowly to the distribution offices, hoping to God that they still had some papes. I was surprised when I heard him start talking.
"Ya know, it's okay, Miss. Cause we gots food ta eat, and a roof ova our heads. and we neva hafta worry about, about. sickness, or starvation, or freezing to death." He paused and I didn't say anything, afraid that if he was going to continue, I would stop him. "An-and even if is just 'cause we's needed by Pulitzah 'n them , even if we's just used and treated like scum. we's alive ain't we? Ain't we Miss?" I smiled at his enigmatic question.
"As alive as it's possible to be, Dutch boy. We are so alive." I couldn't help thinking about how the fear had taken a grip on my heart earlier that day when his eyes had been so shallow, so cold. More like glorified marbles in a life-sized rag doll than the actual soulful orbs I had come to depend on.