Disclaimer: I only own the girl in this story. I do not own anyone else, sorry!
Author's Note: I'm thinking that this is going to be a one-shot thing, but who knows? If you want more go right ahead and tell me.
Let My Fingers Forget.
By Deemarie
Every day is the same. It has been the same for years. Get up, try to avoid my father, and go out into the streets. Maybe today it'll be different. Maybe today I'll be able to do something, anything else. Or maybe not. Today will probably be the same as any other day. Only it's today.
"Oh, excuse me sir. I'm afraid I wasn't watching where I was going." Lord, some people are such suckers. I got five dollars off him alone. Just goes to show that if you dress nicely and hang out in the swanky part of town you can get away with almost anything.
But I'll steal anything that's not nailed down, don't get me wrong. I don't limit it to rich people. If I did that then my old man won't be happy. I gotta bring in a good bit of cash or he can't pay for his booze down at the pub. And that don't mean good things for my health.
"Young lady what are you doing here? Young lady!" I hear the bull start to talk and start to move. And as quick as possible, too. I spent a couple months in the Refuge when I was about ten and I've got no desire to ever go back there. Snyder's the one person who's ever treated me as bad as Pa.
So that means I'm done for the day. I look up at the sky and realize that I've got only a little bit before Pa will wake up demanding money. I'd better hurry. I start to run, hiking up my skirt and finally arrive at our building, more than a bit out of breath.
I enter the dark room that reeks of sweat and spilt beer.
"Girl, you home?" Pa slurs out a question to me.
"Yes, Pa. I am." I try to be as quiet as possible, hoping that maybe he'll be nice tonight. Just once God, let him be nice tonight.
"I can't believe what a pig-sty this place is. If your sainted mother could see it now!"
"She can't see it Pa. She ran off with that liquor salesman." Jesus, Mary and Joseph! What made me say that?
"Damnit! Girl you're a little liar." Pa gives each word a little extra power by slapping me. On the last word I go down and huddle on the floor with my arms over my head. "Little brat girl! Shoulda had a boy."
I think that maybe I black out. All I know is that I woke up this morning with a splitting headache and I was still on the floor.
With all the bruises I've got today I'd better stick close to home. I don't want anyone getting suspicious. And believe me, they won't in this neighborhood.
"Buy me last pape, miss?" A little boy who looks just a little too pathetic holds a paper out to me. I shake my head no, but decide that he might make a good first mark of the day. I start to trip to fall into him but then I accidentally look into his eyes. He looks happy.
I spend weeks just looking at people. Most newsies look happy. A boy with an eye patch, or pocket watch or bandanna. They all look like they're going somewhere in life. And where am I going? Back to a stinking apartment with a drunken bum for a father who won't even call me by name.
These newsies, they have each other. My fingers fly everywhere, but who do I have for my heart? A drunken bum of a father who won't even call me by name.
Finally I end up on the Brooklyn Bridge. I've got nothing to lose by going over the edge. I mean, who'd miss me? But maybe I have a chance. Those newsies, they couldn't have started any better than me. And they're happy now. I could join up.
So I'm going to make myself be happy. I'm going to have myself some friends. Someday, I'll be off these streets. Now I've got a future.
