"Don' worry 'bout it," Racetrack comforted me as we walked away from
the docks. I still shook with the sobs at the mention of my mother. I
couldn't believe that after over a decade of not knowing him my brother
simply didn't want to talk to me. Not only that, but when I talked to him
he insulted me and mentioned the one thing that could stop me in my tracks.
"He's an ass, but we'll give ya a place ta stay till he comes ta his
senses. I'm always heah for ya if ya need me. Remember dat."
"Thank you," I whispered under my breath and smiled weakly at him.
"We's gotta go find Jack and the uddahs. I think they'll be at Tibby's, so let's try dere. Dat alright?" he asked me kindly.
"Yes, that's alright," I told him, and allowed him to lead me through the streets back to Manhattan. He steered me into a restaurant with many of the boys from the lodging house.
"Jack, can I talk to ya?" Racetrack asked Jack when we got inside. "Privately," he added, and motioned to the waiter who opened a door to a supply closet. "Dat'll woik, I guess," he told the waiter, who hurried off. We sat on various buckets in the closet, cramped. "Jack." Race started.
I couldn't let him explain for me, I had to talk for myself. "I can do it, Race. Jack, Spot doesn't want me. He won't even talk to me without spite and hate. He doesn't regret leaving, and he wants nothing to do with me. He had the nerve to mention my mother!" I said, then realized what I'd admitted.
"What about ya muddah?" Jack asked. When I refused to tell him he asked again, "I ain't tryin' ta invade ya privacy, but I'se gotta know. I'll talk ta Spot fo' ya, but I need ta know da story."
"Something in his voice made me want to trust him, but it still wasn't easy to talk about. I tried, but tears welled up in my eyes. I had promised myself I wouldn't cry the moment I knew I was leaving, but I couldn't help it. The drops spilled out and I croaked, "My mother died giving birth to me. I've always felt it was my fault, and Michael knew that," I said, then dissolved into tears.
Racetrack patted my back protectively, "Jack, let it off for now. She's been through a lot. Can ya talk ta her another time?" Jack nodded in agreement, and opened the door to affirm his consent. "Ladies foist," Race said and I stepped around him and out the door. Jack and Race followed.
"Ya gonna stay ta eat?" Jack asked us. I told him yes and he called over a waiter who took my order. I grabbed the pouch I had in my skirt pockets and dug through it to pay for my meal. "I'll get dat," Jack offered, but I refused.
"I can't do much, but I can pay for my own food. Thank you, though," I told him and handed over a nickel to the waiter. He brought my salad a moment later, and I ate, savoring the food. It had only been twenty-four hours since I last ate, but it felt like days. As I inhaled the dish, the boys stared at me. "What, never seen anyone eat before?" I asked them sarcastically.
"Even I don't eat like dat," Jack finally spoke, and Race continued to look at me. "You'se got some interestin' manners, goil."
"Well, I am Spot Conlon's sister," I pointed out matter-of-factly.
"Yeah, but I always figured Spot got dose mannahs aftah gettin' heah. Nevah thought he got 'em at home," Jack said.
"Well, my father was very relaxed about behavior, as long as it didn't happen in public. I can be a charmer if need be, but I hate to do it," I told him.
"Yeah, but Spot did develop his accent aftah he got heah, right?" Jack asked.
"Yeah, of course. But I will say that as a kid he was pretty good at picking up accents. I'm not too bad myself, if need be."
"Try it out," Race said, so I did.
"What, ya mean like dis? It ain't dat hard if ya do 'em enough. Just takes woik. I know I ain't got it quite poifect yet, but I haven't done New Yawk in quite a while," I said, though my accent truly wasn't that good. I hadn't had to do a "New Yawk" accent before, and I'd only been hearing them for a while. "Sorry, I know it isn't the best," I apologized.
Jack laughed and Racetrack grinned. "Goil, you'se an absolute natural. Don' even start with da apologizin', ya know you'se got it good," Race said.
"Trust me, I can do much, much better given some time to practice. Not that I have much of a choice anyway," I answered, my thoughts returning to Michael lashing out at me. I started analyzing his words, realizing the motions and facial expressions in between his words. He'd been trying to seem like a tough guy, not to be intimidated my any girl. Maybe he hadn't even meant to mention our mother. But he had, and he chose to do that, and I was for no reason going to forgive him without an apology.
"Ya comin', Alex? We's leavin'," Jack said. I nodded and followed him out the door. "We's goin' to the distribution office ta buy our afternoon papes," he explained.
"All right, Jack, when ya done monopolizin' Alex, want me ta take her sellin'?" Race offered. Jack told him that yes, that would be a good idea. I stood back as Racetrack bought the papers. He approached me and held out a paper, "Dis heah is a pape. We sell 'em," he explained.
I laughed and whacked the back of his head with my hand, "I think I know that much at least, smart one."
"Ya sure 'bout dat?" Race asked jokingly, earning him another whack from me. "You'se a violent goil, Alex. Didn't ya father teach ya not ta hit innocent newsboys?"
"I wouldn't exactly call you innocent, Race," I joked.
"How do you know that?" he asked, and raised his eyebrows in a suggestive manner.
"Don't make me whack you again," I warned him. "Anyway, you'd have to pay for that sort of gratuitous service, I'm not free," I joked.
"Lemme ask ya dis, who would pay?"
"You know you want me," I joked. He looked me up and down for a moment. "All right, that does not give you permission to stare at my chest," I said and immediately he jumped and stammered to deny that he had been. "Shut up, you blubbering fool, just go sell your papers."
A/N: Um, yeah, nothing new to say since I just posted this afternoon.
Shoutouts- Wait, no Shoutouts. No one has reviewed since my last chapter was posted. I feel so unloved. Haha.
"Thank you," I whispered under my breath and smiled weakly at him.
"We's gotta go find Jack and the uddahs. I think they'll be at Tibby's, so let's try dere. Dat alright?" he asked me kindly.
"Yes, that's alright," I told him, and allowed him to lead me through the streets back to Manhattan. He steered me into a restaurant with many of the boys from the lodging house.
"Jack, can I talk to ya?" Racetrack asked Jack when we got inside. "Privately," he added, and motioned to the waiter who opened a door to a supply closet. "Dat'll woik, I guess," he told the waiter, who hurried off. We sat on various buckets in the closet, cramped. "Jack." Race started.
I couldn't let him explain for me, I had to talk for myself. "I can do it, Race. Jack, Spot doesn't want me. He won't even talk to me without spite and hate. He doesn't regret leaving, and he wants nothing to do with me. He had the nerve to mention my mother!" I said, then realized what I'd admitted.
"What about ya muddah?" Jack asked. When I refused to tell him he asked again, "I ain't tryin' ta invade ya privacy, but I'se gotta know. I'll talk ta Spot fo' ya, but I need ta know da story."
"Something in his voice made me want to trust him, but it still wasn't easy to talk about. I tried, but tears welled up in my eyes. I had promised myself I wouldn't cry the moment I knew I was leaving, but I couldn't help it. The drops spilled out and I croaked, "My mother died giving birth to me. I've always felt it was my fault, and Michael knew that," I said, then dissolved into tears.
Racetrack patted my back protectively, "Jack, let it off for now. She's been through a lot. Can ya talk ta her another time?" Jack nodded in agreement, and opened the door to affirm his consent. "Ladies foist," Race said and I stepped around him and out the door. Jack and Race followed.
"Ya gonna stay ta eat?" Jack asked us. I told him yes and he called over a waiter who took my order. I grabbed the pouch I had in my skirt pockets and dug through it to pay for my meal. "I'll get dat," Jack offered, but I refused.
"I can't do much, but I can pay for my own food. Thank you, though," I told him and handed over a nickel to the waiter. He brought my salad a moment later, and I ate, savoring the food. It had only been twenty-four hours since I last ate, but it felt like days. As I inhaled the dish, the boys stared at me. "What, never seen anyone eat before?" I asked them sarcastically.
"Even I don't eat like dat," Jack finally spoke, and Race continued to look at me. "You'se got some interestin' manners, goil."
"Well, I am Spot Conlon's sister," I pointed out matter-of-factly.
"Yeah, but I always figured Spot got dose mannahs aftah gettin' heah. Nevah thought he got 'em at home," Jack said.
"Well, my father was very relaxed about behavior, as long as it didn't happen in public. I can be a charmer if need be, but I hate to do it," I told him.
"Yeah, but Spot did develop his accent aftah he got heah, right?" Jack asked.
"Yeah, of course. But I will say that as a kid he was pretty good at picking up accents. I'm not too bad myself, if need be."
"Try it out," Race said, so I did.
"What, ya mean like dis? It ain't dat hard if ya do 'em enough. Just takes woik. I know I ain't got it quite poifect yet, but I haven't done New Yawk in quite a while," I said, though my accent truly wasn't that good. I hadn't had to do a "New Yawk" accent before, and I'd only been hearing them for a while. "Sorry, I know it isn't the best," I apologized.
Jack laughed and Racetrack grinned. "Goil, you'se an absolute natural. Don' even start with da apologizin', ya know you'se got it good," Race said.
"Trust me, I can do much, much better given some time to practice. Not that I have much of a choice anyway," I answered, my thoughts returning to Michael lashing out at me. I started analyzing his words, realizing the motions and facial expressions in between his words. He'd been trying to seem like a tough guy, not to be intimidated my any girl. Maybe he hadn't even meant to mention our mother. But he had, and he chose to do that, and I was for no reason going to forgive him without an apology.
"Ya comin', Alex? We's leavin'," Jack said. I nodded and followed him out the door. "We's goin' to the distribution office ta buy our afternoon papes," he explained.
"All right, Jack, when ya done monopolizin' Alex, want me ta take her sellin'?" Race offered. Jack told him that yes, that would be a good idea. I stood back as Racetrack bought the papers. He approached me and held out a paper, "Dis heah is a pape. We sell 'em," he explained.
I laughed and whacked the back of his head with my hand, "I think I know that much at least, smart one."
"Ya sure 'bout dat?" Race asked jokingly, earning him another whack from me. "You'se a violent goil, Alex. Didn't ya father teach ya not ta hit innocent newsboys?"
"I wouldn't exactly call you innocent, Race," I joked.
"How do you know that?" he asked, and raised his eyebrows in a suggestive manner.
"Don't make me whack you again," I warned him. "Anyway, you'd have to pay for that sort of gratuitous service, I'm not free," I joked.
"Lemme ask ya dis, who would pay?"
"You know you want me," I joked. He looked me up and down for a moment. "All right, that does not give you permission to stare at my chest," I said and immediately he jumped and stammered to deny that he had been. "Shut up, you blubbering fool, just go sell your papers."
A/N: Um, yeah, nothing new to say since I just posted this afternoon.
Shoutouts- Wait, no Shoutouts. No one has reviewed since my last chapter was posted. I feel so unloved. Haha.