Author's Note: I do not own Newsies. Is that a surprise to anyone out there? I thought not.
I couldn't sleep. After tossing and turning for about an hour I slipped over to the door and crept downstairs. I sneaked past Granny's room and ended up outside on the steps.
It's really hot out tonight and I can smell the stench of rotting garbage. I hate not having anything to do. It makes me think too much and I'm so sick of thinking. Maybe I should've tried to remember how to knit when I started to forget.
Finally the stars began to fade and the sun rose. I heard the noise of newsies upstairs. In Brooklyn there isn't near this much noise and there's about twice the number of newsies. Some of the older newsies don't take too kindly to noise, specially after how much they've drank the night before.
"Hey Hush! How's you get down so quietly?" Swede is the first newsie out the door. "Didn't you sleep good? Do ya want breakfast? That's the only meal Granny serves."
I shake my head, remembering what Spot used to say about Klopmann's cooking. I try to get by on as little as possible because I always remember what my pap used to say, "Eat little when you got a lot and when you ain't got a lot you'll be used to it." Except I never remember having a lot. And being a birdie don't pay too good. I got used to eating dinner every day and a little supper when things got really good.
"Come on, Hush. It's included in the bed fee. And it's good, really! You should taste Granny's bread!" Swede spoke even more quickly than usual. "Plus you'll need your energy! You're selling with me!"
I shrugged and followed Swede inside to a cramped room with a large scarred wooden table. Granny sat at the head and was ladling out porridge and handing out hunks of bread.
I ate a few bites of porridge and then put my bread in my pocket for later.
"Hey Hush! Why ain't you eating? Don't you like it?" Swede's voice was so loud that all thirty newsies and Granny started to stare.
I looked down and decided that maybe I needed to talk for this one. "Eat little when you got a lot and when you ain't got a lot you'll be used to it."
"Child, you'll certainly always have enough money." Granny said earnestly and all the newsies nodded.
"You mean people wouldn't spot you two bits or so where you came from?" One of the littler newsies spoke up.
I shook my head. What was up with these Boston newsies? In Brooklyn somebody would sure spot you some money. Except that they usually had somewhere else to spend their money. They had to eat or support their drinking habits, or younger relatives, or gambling like The Traveler. Most people were lucky to make thirty or forty cents a day and keep enough of that to buy papes the next.
"Nobody had any money where I come from." I spoke shortly while stirring the porridge left in my bowl.
Swede shrugged his shoulders and walked out and I followed. I hadn't sold papers in a few years. I really hoped that I could remember how.
"Now look here Hush. All you have to do is make them want to buy papers from you. The headline's Mayor Throws Charity Party."
I grabbed a paper and walked over to a well-dressed man walking briskly.
"Sir, could you buy a pape for me, sir? My little brother's not so good sir." I trailed off and coughed weakly.
"Poor girl. Here's a dime for your paper." The businessman patted my head and walked on his way.
I looked over to where Swede was standing. I smiled to see his open mouth. He thought I couldn't move a pape when I used to sell with Spot, the guy who taught Jack Kelly everything he knew.
I looked up at him and said quietly, "I'm good."
He looked flabbergasted for a second or two and then he laughed and replied, "Yes, you are Hush. Yes, you are."
After a couple of weeks I got used to the Boston newsies. I even talked a little when I wasn't selling. However, I still only slept a couple of hours a night before the nightmares woke me up.
It was late July when I was eating breakfast in a new spot. Billy, one of the other newsies, had been picked up by the bulls and sent West on an orphan train; so his spot was open. The people around me were too loud so I moved. Speaking of moving I was wondering whether I'd better move on. Jacky Boy was always talking 'bout Santa Fe. Maybe I'd try there.
Looking at one of the carvings sliced into the table I gasped. Among all the carvings on the table was a sign that I knew well. I had to know. It was a square with four dots in it, I've heard from someone that it was a supposed to be a die. It was next to some name but I couldn't read it you know. But I hoped that maybe someone else used that mark.
"Sure, that's a guy from Manhatten name and mark. There's a poker game down here he tries to catch every August. He stays with us. Nice guy, you'll like him. Racetrack Higgins is what it says."
I never met Race. I knew he left the city every August but I never cared to know where he went. His twin sister could've been my best friend if I'd stayed in New York. I think I'll stick around and meet him.
Author's Note: Okay, I'm asking for your help. Do you think I should develop the character of Swede more or devote more of my time to Racetrack?
