Disclaimer That I always forget to put in the first chapter: I don't own
Newsies. I do own Kathy and her family. Feel free to use them; I don't
care.
Oh, yeh, it would be nice if people reviewed. Criticism is good for me.
Now, on with the story:
"I must be late," I thought on arriving home. My father was already home from work. I had no mother. A furtive glance at the tall grandfather clock in the farthest corner of my family's one room tenement quickly corrected my notion, but further perplexed me as to why my father was not at the factory working. "Daddy," I asked softly, "What are you doing home from work so early?" I regretted the question as soon as it came out of my mouth. Perhaps it would rub my father the wrong way, make him mad- you know what I mean? I hate getting people mad at me. To my surprise he wasn't angry, but his face- oh his face! It was sullen. His frown was deeper than I had ever seen it before. His eyes had lost their youthful shine-, which they'd always had. The worst part was his cheeks. They were no longer red and healthy looking, but sunken and almost gray. I wondered what could make his spirits drop so low as that. Fearing the worst, I listened to his soft, almost desperate voice as he answered my question. "I was fired." He answered simply. He offered no explanation as to how or why. I decided it would be best to drop the subject of work, so I said nothing else and went to begin preparing supper. Nearly a full half an hour later he began talking slowly and softly, almost methodically. His thick German accent, blending with his carefully placed English words. "Your brother will find a job and you will find a job. Your two jobs should get us through until I find a new job. You will not attend school any longer Then we can keep our home." Of course, a dank, dark, crowded tenement is hardly a home, but as long as we called it one we could pretend it was. My father's voice trailed off into incoherent German muttering after that. While I was glad to be out of that horrid, wretched, terrible school I was also upset about my father's unemployment. What could he have possibly done to be fired? Being poor meant that we had almost no rights. At least we were batter off than the orphans. I've heard it said that every human needs someone to look down upon. I felt better knowing I was better off than the orphans and the street rats were. Then my thoughts began to drift from fear to apprehension. I had never done any work before. How would I find a job? A terrible ashy smell interrupted my thoughts. I had burned supper. "Oh well," I thought as I put the slightly charred meat on a plate. My thoughts, worries and fears would have to wait until tomorrow. I called my brother, Johnny, and my father to the table to eat.
Oh, yeh, it would be nice if people reviewed. Criticism is good for me.
Now, on with the story:
"I must be late," I thought on arriving home. My father was already home from work. I had no mother. A furtive glance at the tall grandfather clock in the farthest corner of my family's one room tenement quickly corrected my notion, but further perplexed me as to why my father was not at the factory working. "Daddy," I asked softly, "What are you doing home from work so early?" I regretted the question as soon as it came out of my mouth. Perhaps it would rub my father the wrong way, make him mad- you know what I mean? I hate getting people mad at me. To my surprise he wasn't angry, but his face- oh his face! It was sullen. His frown was deeper than I had ever seen it before. His eyes had lost their youthful shine-, which they'd always had. The worst part was his cheeks. They were no longer red and healthy looking, but sunken and almost gray. I wondered what could make his spirits drop so low as that. Fearing the worst, I listened to his soft, almost desperate voice as he answered my question. "I was fired." He answered simply. He offered no explanation as to how or why. I decided it would be best to drop the subject of work, so I said nothing else and went to begin preparing supper. Nearly a full half an hour later he began talking slowly and softly, almost methodically. His thick German accent, blending with his carefully placed English words. "Your brother will find a job and you will find a job. Your two jobs should get us through until I find a new job. You will not attend school any longer Then we can keep our home." Of course, a dank, dark, crowded tenement is hardly a home, but as long as we called it one we could pretend it was. My father's voice trailed off into incoherent German muttering after that. While I was glad to be out of that horrid, wretched, terrible school I was also upset about my father's unemployment. What could he have possibly done to be fired? Being poor meant that we had almost no rights. At least we were batter off than the orphans. I've heard it said that every human needs someone to look down upon. I felt better knowing I was better off than the orphans and the street rats were. Then my thoughts began to drift from fear to apprehension. I had never done any work before. How would I find a job? A terrible ashy smell interrupted my thoughts. I had burned supper. "Oh well," I thought as I put the slightly charred meat on a plate. My thoughts, worries and fears would have to wait until tomorrow. I called my brother, Johnny, and my father to the table to eat.