Shoutouts! ((Thanks for all the reviews, guys. You're all truly wonderful! Oh, and… Untouchables is next.))
Okay, punch me, kick me, claw my eyes out… shoutouts in the next chappy. I'm running out of time and I have to go get ready for work, but I wanted to post this right now. So I'll just say your names so you know I'm really thinking about you!!!! I promise!!! And Misprint—WHERE THE HECK IS THE UPDATED ECLIPSE YOU PROMISED ME?! Cards … bittersweet … kimimay85 … Ali … misprint … rumor … Holiday … Blinks-Tiger … EternitysChik … Maniac Conlon … The Omniscient Bookseller … Psyche … RaiderGrowth Chapter 11
Summer, 1901
Mush held his head high as he surveyed his city at daybreak. At eighteen, he was among the oldest newsies, and as he'd grown, so had his reputation. It wasn't all flattering, but no newsie had a spotless rep.
"Heya, Mush," called a small voice behind him. He turned to see eight-year old Spotchkey, who they called Spotches, rubbing his eyes sleepily. "Wha' is ya doin' up?"
Mush smiled. "Jus' t'inkin', Spotches. Go back ta bed, ya still got half a' hour befoah Kloppman comes ta wake us up."
"Naw, dat's okay." Though the young child's eyelids were drooping over his usually-vibrant blue eyes, he fought to keep them open in order to show Mush he was just as mature. He stepped over the windowsill and sat next to Mush on the fire escape.
"See, dat's Mrs. Larin," Mush said, pointing out a woman who was yelling harsh words at a man sitting outside her flower shop. "She yells at dat man ev'ry day, an' ev'ry night he comes back an' sleeps dere again. An' ya know what 'e finds ev'ry night waitin' fer 'im?"
"Da bulls?" Spotchkey guessed, looking at the heavyset woman, who clucked her tongue a final time at the man before heading inside her shop for the day.
Mush smiled ruefully. "A loaf a' bread an' a mug a' coffee." He grinned. He really loved New York, especially with its unusual characters.
"Hey, Mush?" Spotchkey said, tilting his head so that his fine red curls fell across his forehead and into his eyes. "Tell me abou' some a' da fellas dat you talk abou' at night in yer prayeh."
"Like who?" Mush asked.
"Well, wha' happened to 'em? Did dey all die?" Spotchkey asked.
"Da ones dat I say are in heaven, yeah," Mush answered, biting his lower lip. Spotchkey was still young, and he seemed even younger than most of the street kids because of his skinny little body. Mush didn't want to have the end of innocence be on his own hands.
"Tell me abou' some a' dem." Spotchkey lifted his legs to his chest, and lay his chin on top of his knees. He smiled unsuspectingly up at Mush.
Mush sighed. "Well, le's see. Dere's Specs, an' Snoddy, an' Freckle. An' Spunky, an' Tricksteh, an' California, an' Chahlie, an' Terrain, an' Tweedle, Tree, Chesteh, Scales, Rudy, Monsteh, Pie Eateh, Snipeshooteh, Jake, Slideh..."
The last name seemed to interest Spotchkey. "Who was Slideh?"
Mush closed his eyes. "A liddle boy, on'y a yeah oldeh dan you is. 'E died las' yeah, right aftah da strike ended. Da bulls…" Mush found he couldn't continue speaking, because the images of the small boy still played eagerly in his mind.
A familiar blond head poked out of the window. "Hey, cheese it out heah," Kid Blink said sleepily. "I still gots meself twenny-five minutes ta sleep."
"Sorry, Blink," said Spotchkey, climbing to his feet. He moved to go back inside the bunkroom, but stopped a moment before swinging his leg over the windowsill. "Mush?"
"Hmm?" Mush answered, staring off.
"You ain' gonna die, is you? An' Blink, 'e's not gonna die, right? Or me?"
"No, Spotches. No one's gonna die." The little boy looked relieved as he climbed back into the bunkroom for his last precious moments of sleep.
If on'y I could convince meself a' da same t'ing… The thought resounded through Mush's brain until Kloppman came to wake everyone else up, and the day officially began.
"Heya, Otteh." Kid Blink leaned over and kissed his girl, who kissed him back. "How is ya ta'day?"
"Jus' great, Blink," she answered softly. She seemed preoccupied.
"Wha's on yer mind?" Blink asked, shouldering his papers. He gave a salute to Mush, who was selling across the street. Mush grinned and saluted back. Blink smiled, remembering the past times when the two's friendship had seemed unlikely to survive. The two were still closer than brothers, and had been through hell and back together. Kid Blink felt a camaraderie with Mush that he shared with no one else.
Otter looked sad, and leaned up and kissed him again. Blink hadn't been expecting it, and while he didn't mind being kissed, it made him suspicious. "Is you a'right, Otteh?"
"Not all da way," she answered, looking away. Kid Blink cupped her face in his hand and looked her in the eyes. She looked away, biting her lip. Blink waited patiently for her to continue. And, suddenly, she did.
"When is we gonna grow up, Blink?" she burst out, her eyes now searching his face. "When is we gonna stop bein' street kids, an' get ourselves some woik? Real woik? So dat we kin get married an' have chil'ren an' live in a liddle house somewheres? When? When, Blink, when?"
"When da time's righ', Otteh," he answered. The truth was, he wasn't sure he could bear to leave this life. His life. He looked across the street again. Standing next to Mush was Racetrack, and the two had already sold most of their papers. Race seemed to be trying to get Mush to do something—Kid knew it was most likely Race trying to get Mush to go with him to the tracks—and the younger newsies, the six- to ten-year olds, were climbing all over them like they were statues of Horace Greeley. Blink shook his head. Mush had always had a soft spot for the littlest newsies.
Otter had turned to Blink, with a new, beautiful light in her eyes. "Da time's right, Blink."
He looked at her in confusion. "Whaddya mean?"
"I mean…" Otter began to look worried again. "I mean dat me fadduh wrote me da uddah day. I wrote a letteh to 'im las' month, an' I didn' t'ink 'e'd send anyt'ing back. But 'e did! 'E wants me ta come back home, Blink. 'E says I kin get a job. An'… an' I wantchu ta come home wit' me."
Blink looked confused. "Wheah do ya mean by 'home', Otteh?"
Otter smiled serenely, picturing a far-off land. "Philadelphia, Pennsylvania."
Mush and Race headed for the tracks once they'd sold all their papers. Spotchkey and Trundle, another of the younger newsies, tagged along eagerly. Spotchkey was right behind Mush, and had dropped his suspenders off his shoulders in the same fashion Mush had adopted. Trundle, who preferred to fashion himself after Racetrack, had his hands shoved in his shallow pockets and a fat twig, whittled to look like a cigar, jutting out from between his lips. The two young boys were fairly certain that they were being sneaky, and were oblivious to the fact that Mush and Race were positioned at angles so that they could keep their eyes on the boys.
"So. Mush." Racetrack's voice had its usual sense of urgency, even though Mush lazily knew that what he had to say would most likely be unimportant. "You'se eighteen. When is ya gonna leave da newsie biz?"
Spotchkey trained his ears to hear Mush's response. Mush knew he would be doing this, and squirmed inwardly. "I dunno, Race," he answered, though he was in fact only partially telling the truth.
"'Ey! Look at da beauty up ahead! Say, ya t'ink she's in da picta shows?" Race asked, abandoning his question in favor of a blonde bombshell seated on a bench ten feet away. She wore a light yellow dress, and held a matching parasol over her head to keep the sun's rays from her dainty scalp.
"She looks familiah," Mush answered, squinting against all of the yellowness of her.
"Ya t'ink she's a newsie?" Race wondered. The two stopped and leaned against a lamppost, trying to look inconspicuous. The two little boys copied their stances.
Mush snorted in laughter. "Wha' goil newsie kin affohd outfits like dat, Race?"
The blonde lady shut her thick book and stood up from the bench. She was much shorter than she'd at first appeared, and Mush realized with a start that she was no older than he was. She started to walk past them, but Race managed to work his way over so that she had to turn to him to ask him to move. When she did, her eyes flitted over Mush, and he became stunned.
She, too, stopped in her tracks. "Mush?" she asked, her green-yellow eyes growing large with wonder.
"Seraphim!"
Kid Blink stared at Otter. "Pennsylvania?" he squeaked.
Otter grinned. "Please, Blink? Oh, please come wit' me! We'll get jobs, an' we kin live at me house until we's save up enough ta git married an' live in a house of ours own! An' den we'll have our own fam'ly, an'… dammit, Blink, we'll fine'ly be happy!"
I've always been happy, Blink thought to himself. He was about to shake his head no, when he made the mistake of looking into her eyes. He could see her desire, her passion to go. And he knew he'd have to go with her. "…A'right," he consented. "Pennsylvania, it is."
Otter squealed and threw her arms around his neck. Blink tried to give a smile, but it ended up a sneer.
How in hell is I gonna tell Mush?