There is a puddle at my feet. The cobblestones have broken where I stand, and all that is left of last night's rain are the numerous puddles littering the streets. The sky is gray, and when I look down into the water, I can see my own uncertain face staring back up at me.
I used to know everything that I wanted. I used to want to be a doctor, to go through medical school and save people's lives. That dream crumbled as I quit school to become a newsie. Now, as a newsie, I can look back on that dream and laugh. My family would never be able to put me through medical school. The streets have hardened me. I no longer care for soft, idle whims, but instead focus intently on reality.
Sometimes I wish I could return to the boy that I used to be. If only I could talk to a younger David Jacobs, and lecture him on the hard years that lay ahead, then perhaps I would be appeased. But the truth is that I will never be able to do more than remember the child I was, and smile regretfully at what I have lost.
The strike has probably been the biggest and most important event to have taken place so far in my life. I have many more years ahead to look forward to, however. But I don't know what I will do when I turn twenty and am too old to become a newsie. Despite the promise I made my father, both he and I know that I will never return to school.
Being one of Jack Kelly's most favored and trusted newsies is a wonderful thing. Less wonderful is having him date my sister. I'm not jealous. I'm just...uncertain of how to handle their relationship. Jack is my best friend, and my family loves him.
It's just that I know he doesn't love Sarah.
Sarah doesn't know what love is. Neither, I believe, does Jack.
But I do.
Jack just isn't good enough for my sister. He has lied to me many times, and I know his dream of going to Sante Fe is absolute bullshit. It will never happen, I can see it in his dark green eyes every time he speaks of leaving. He doesn't have the balls to leave New York. Our Cowboy has grown comfortable as the leader of Manhattan, and likes his position of power. He'll never be able to free himself from it.
The newsies need him. Despite how tough they all make themselves out to be, they need to be led. When Jack betrayed us, I had to step up to that position, or chaos would surely have ensued. I was glad to give Jack back the reins when he returned. I don't like being in absolute control.
I prefer to do the nudging from the sidelines. Jack thinks he comes up with all of his brilliant ideas on his own. No matter how amazingly intelligent he believes himself to be, I know differently. I am the Walking Mouth. I give him the words, and he gives them power. We work well together.
As I stare at my reflection, an odd smile tugs at my mouth. Jack and Sarah will be joining me shortly. Sarah pretended to have forgotten something at the house, and Jack went with her to help her find it. Perhaps she left her virginity behind. Who knows?
Les tags along at my heels. He doesn't even notice as I grow still, watching the puddle. Moments later he runs past, his foot landing in the center of the water so that it splashes against my pants. Snapped out of the moment, I voice my irritation. Les grins and ducks away from my outstretched hands.
Brothers are so impossibly annoying. There are times when I love Les, and times when I want nothing more than to swat him away, like an annoying gnat. For the moment I am glad Jack is gone. Les doesn't even notice when a strange boy looks out of an old shop. I quirk an eyebrow at him, and he carefully comes out of the peeling red door, looking around us.
"Ignore the kid," I tell the boy, rolling my eyes slightly as Les trips in a puddle.
"Youse got what Twitch wants?"
"Youse got my money?" I mock his accent as I reply. The boy, a Harlem newsie, is short and thin. His brown hair is tangled, as though he's never combed it before. There is a smudge of dirt on his chin. He can't be more than thirteen.
Money is what makes the world go round. Pa can't go back to work until his arm is fixed, and his arm won't heal right unless a doctor can look at it. My family needs this money.
I swap information with the Harlem boy, who stoutly informs me his name is Crane. I raise my eyebrows as we speak. I can hear Jack and Sarah returning even though they are a good distance away. I get my money, stowing it away safely in one of my reinforced pockets.
"Go," I order Crane, who disappears silently into the shop.
"Who was that?" Les asks cheerfully, poking at a soggy worm on the ground.
"You didn't see? It was Snipe," I shrug in reply. Crane is about the same height as Snipeshooter, and I am an excellent liar. My brother's face falls.
"Aw, he should o' stayed an' played wit' me," Les sighs. He is beginning to get a strong New York accent, a fact that distresses my mother to no end.
As my sister and Jack return, I smile and we continue on our way. I watch Jack snake his arm around Sarah's waist, and allow myself to scowl now that their backs are to me.
Two can play at the game of deception, Jack. And I will win.
Just watch me.