Out In The Rain
1893
April 24
"You say 'Goodbye' I say 'Hello'"
Emerald walked into the lodging house lead by Dice. To her surprise, there was already someone in the small, dank room. He identified himself as Books, co-leader of the territory of Brooklyn.
"I intoypoyt foah Dice, heah," he motioned to Dice, who was standing over by the bunk bed nearest the small black stove nestled into the wall.
"Dis'll be yoah bunk." A short gangly fellow, Books, interpreted for Emerald as Dice rambled off in signs. Books had big clear blue eyes, covered by a pair of glasses, and short brown hair that he wore slicked back under a newsie cap; he appeared to be about seventeen. Suddenly there was a yell from out on the pier and Dice made a simple sign with his hands before taking off. The two caught on soon enough, and raced off after him.
(______________________)
"ThebastardI'llstranglethefoolI'llkill'imIwill!" a short Irish fellow was yelling at a very self-satisfied looking boy who had the hair and eyes of Dice. He spoke so quickly however, that it sounded like one big long swear word. The boy who had stopped Emerald earlier was holding the Irishman, with his flaming red hair and red face, back.
"Red!" Books yelled, apparently taking on the role of yelling at the boy. He took a step foreword as Red pulled away from his restraint to explain.
"Dat kid'n his sling shot-" he began and then started rambling off in Irish dialect that no one really understood.
"Uh huh...uh huh...Ya wanna r'peat dat in en'lish?" Books suggested. Emerald took her turn to step in.
"He basically said I'll kill 'im, 'e 'it me with his slingshot, 'e doesn't belong 'ere, I'll kill 'im," she announced, and then noticing the stares she received, she blushed, ducking behind Books, who merely smirked.
"Spot," Books started, the boy just rolled his eyes. He appeared to be one year Emerald's senior, and very independent.
"Yer in da runnin' foah leader, but dat don' mean ya gets to run rampant," Books continued. So that settled it, Spot was Dice's brother. And he didn't care about anyone.
"Who's she?" one slender finger pointed to Emerald and Spot spoke rudely as if he couldn't care less who she was.
"She's...eh..whats yoah name?" Books questioned leaning down. Jersey had said that Brooklyn owed them a favor, nothing else was told about the little girl. She couldn't give him her real name, they'd ask too many questions.
"I'se Silvah; Silvah Hawkins," she whispered, using her brother's name as an alias. Spot glared.
"What's she doin' here? She's a goil," Spot demanded, looking her up and down.
"Yeah, I'se a goil. Dats a brilliant assessment ya just made dere," she snapped. And then, looking rather furious with herself she turned on her way back to the lodging house. Spot glared after her, Books just laughed, and Dice smiled. He loved his brother dearly...but someone had to defy the little fart.
Emerald, or Silver, sat on her bunk, glaring up at the ceiling, this was not going to be anything like Queens, she'd need new people, a new selling spot, everything.
__________________________________
1897
October 9
"You need a strength most dont possess."
_______________________________________
"'Appy boithday!" Books called over the noise in the lodging house. He reached a frail arm to Spot, dumping a small box in his lap. The boy was surrounded by gifts, even one from Silver. From Dice, to Spot, was scrawled on the cardboard. Spot ripped at the box, tearing it nearly to shreds until something wrapped in newspaper fell onto the floor before him. Ripping hastily at the object, his silvery eyes opened wide upon seeing it was a slingshot. It wasn't just any sling-shot, it was a leader's slingshot.
Silver had heard of this tradition. When a leader retired in Brooklyn, they passed on their slingshot to their successor. Spot looked with wonder upon the small object. Books grinned at Dice, who in turn, grinned at everyone else. Spot hadn't done to bad on this birthday. He'd gotten a book, a long cane he guessed was stolen, and a small, humbly carved knife from Silver and last but not least, the territory of Brooklyn.
(______________________)
"Silvah?" Books questioned, not too surprised at finding her on the roof again. He crawled towards the girl, followed by Dice.
"Why ya sittin' 'ere by ya'self? Its a joyous time!" He continued, ruffling her hair. She sat on the very edge of the building, staring out across the district, admiring the view of the bridge. Dice knelt down next to her and as she turned towards him, he looked at her questioningly, raising those charcoal brows that shaded eyes beseeching an answer.
"I...I ain't real comfortable 'round leadah's, evah since...well...a long time, I been scah'ed of em. 'Sides, he don't like me," she murmured, reaching up to twist a strand of Dices hair, he smiled, watching her innocent fingers twirl the ebony strands. He and Books began to ponder her response, the former looked up at he latter and nodded.
She's lying through her teeth, Dice thought grimly.
"Would ya at least come in? It's too cold foah goils t'be out, and we wont make ya go neah Spot" Books concluded as Dice pulled her into a standing position and they walked back towards the fire exit. This seemed all too familiar to Silver. Jersey had brought her down from the roof often. She always went up there when she wanted to be above her problems. Dice and Books had noticed this too, but they never really asked why. All Jersey had said was that she needed a place to go, no one had really thought to ask why.
Past is past, Books reminded himself, If she don' wanna tell, I ain't gonna make 'er tell, but Joisey. he's anoddah story.
(_______________________)
"Chase, I needs a favoah from ya," Books began interpreting for Dice as the three, along with Spot, met in the bathroom. Chase was a rather small boy, with muddy green eyes and black hair.
"Ya know dat goil Silvah? I need 'er inside story, I wanna know why she's heah," Spot continued for him, relishing in his newfound power.
While the boys inside sat and ate and played poker, Silver sat on her bed, fidgeting nervously whenever someone said her name, or even something that sounded like her name. She was so involved in her thoughts, she never saw the newsie Chase run off across the bridge.
______________________________________
1897
October 9
3:00 am
"Don't speak...stop explaining."
______________________________________
"Joisey, I ain't in a position to go back wid out an ansah," Chase pleaded, as Jersey held his ground. He'd been sent to get the inside scoop on Silver and so far that wasn't happening.
"Look, Chase, if she don' wanna tell you her story, den you ain't got no business knowin it," Jersey remarked fiercely, Silver was keeping a perfectly good secret, and if it got out, Tragedy would know exactly where to find her; he'd been looking, that was obvious. Fires, Tragedy's trade marks, had been sparking up in lots of popular Queens newsie hangouts, but when Emerald was no where to be found, he'd moved to Stanton, and was wreaking havoc there.
"She don't trust you, oah any one else, rightly so. When the time comes fer her to tell ya, she will," Jersey tried to reason, Chase sighed.
"Den youah gonna have to deal with Spot and Books when they come looking foah a story," he warned, plunking his hat back on his head and trotting outside, it was nearly morning and he was starved. By the time Chase had returned, eaten, and given his excuse to Spot and Books, it was almost noon. And selling for the day was almost finished.
(_____________________)
"Fiahs break out in Stanton! Lives at stake, city does nothing!" Silver roared over the crowds of people. For once she didn't need to improve the headline. She could see Spot on the next corner, selling the last of his one hundred papes. She'd taken one hundred and fifty and had just sold her last pape.
"Need some help theah Conlon?" she questioned, striding over to him, he was clad in black slacks and a blue shirt with his trademark suspenders and cap. His cane lay at his side, and he sneered at her as he sold his last paper.
"No, Silvah, I do not need youah help. I'se doin just fine as you can see," he continued, cocking his head and looking her up and down in disgust.
"You don' belong heah anyways, why would I want youah help?" he'd gone too far, and he knew he was treading on thin ice. She had always been touchy about being where she belonged. And without warning, her small fist swung in a wide arc, catching him square in the jaw.
"You'se right, I don' belong heah," spitting on his shoes she turned and headed back to the lodging house, with a rather dazed, but fully pissed Spot on her heels.
"Now you just wait one damned minute!" he roared, as she was walking up the stairs. She paused dramatically, just to humor him for a second, and then started up again.
"I give you woyk and put a roof over youah head and dis is how you'se repayin' me?" he asked, latching onto her arm. She yanked the appendage back and paused to glare at him.
"No, dis is how I repay yer bruddah 'e took me in, I don't owe yous nuttin!" she roared, walking into the bedroom and climbing out onto the fire escape. Spot paused to glare at the bruise she'd given upon him; it was now turning sickening shades of greenish yellow.
The girl got to him, really got to him. He'd just become the leader the night before and already she challenged every word he said. He knew it pissed her off when someone questioned her standings as a newsie so it was partly his fault. But she couldn't defy him forever. She might even start her own little revolt. The thing Spot wanted to know most was why. Why was she the way she was? Why was she even here?
He followed her out into the roof; he'd pry into her sooner or later. He had to figure her out, he just had to.
"Leave me alone Spot!" she commanded crisply, flopping down on the edge of the building. Spot simply stood behind her.
"Why d'you go lookin' foah trouble?" he questioned backing away as she stood. His voice had become calmer, almost nicer, but Silver wasn't buying it. She knew he just wanted the background dirt on her, and that was one or many things she'd never give him.
"Spot," she said turning around to face him, "You aint got no business askin me dat. I know-" He cut her off, gripping her shoulders and whirling her around so he stood near the edge. Spot was maniacal enough to yell at her, but not homicidal enough to push her over.
"Oh you know?" he roared, intense eyes gleaming with hatred. But inside his brain, a fiercer fire was burning, the fire of curiosity.
"You know do ya? You're da one who has an answer foah every question and a way outta every problem but you know not'in'!" he continued his assault, shoving away from her then walking towards her until she began to back away.
"You keep prahtendin' ta live Silvah! Youah a prisoner in yer own damned house, and even worse, yoah a prisoner of yoah secrets!" he continued yelling at her, and surprisingly, the small girl held her ground. They'd been getting into fights with each other since the day she arrived and it wasn't getting any better for either of them. It happened every day; one would make some snide comment and then the other would retaliate. Never before, not like this. They'd been there before, but not like this.
Okay, I've reformatted due to reviews! Hopefully, it worked this time!
"Never before, not like this." That's from Nickelback's 'Never Again' "You say goodbye." That's the Beatles "You need a strength most don't posses." The mighty mghty Bosstones, 'The impression that I get'
"Don't speak." No Doubt, 'Don't Speak"
1893
April 24
"You say 'Goodbye' I say 'Hello'"
Emerald walked into the lodging house lead by Dice. To her surprise, there was already someone in the small, dank room. He identified himself as Books, co-leader of the territory of Brooklyn.
"I intoypoyt foah Dice, heah," he motioned to Dice, who was standing over by the bunk bed nearest the small black stove nestled into the wall.
"Dis'll be yoah bunk." A short gangly fellow, Books, interpreted for Emerald as Dice rambled off in signs. Books had big clear blue eyes, covered by a pair of glasses, and short brown hair that he wore slicked back under a newsie cap; he appeared to be about seventeen. Suddenly there was a yell from out on the pier and Dice made a simple sign with his hands before taking off. The two caught on soon enough, and raced off after him.
(______________________)
"ThebastardI'llstranglethefoolI'llkill'imIwill!" a short Irish fellow was yelling at a very self-satisfied looking boy who had the hair and eyes of Dice. He spoke so quickly however, that it sounded like one big long swear word. The boy who had stopped Emerald earlier was holding the Irishman, with his flaming red hair and red face, back.
"Red!" Books yelled, apparently taking on the role of yelling at the boy. He took a step foreword as Red pulled away from his restraint to explain.
"Dat kid'n his sling shot-" he began and then started rambling off in Irish dialect that no one really understood.
"Uh huh...uh huh...Ya wanna r'peat dat in en'lish?" Books suggested. Emerald took her turn to step in.
"He basically said I'll kill 'im, 'e 'it me with his slingshot, 'e doesn't belong 'ere, I'll kill 'im," she announced, and then noticing the stares she received, she blushed, ducking behind Books, who merely smirked.
"Spot," Books started, the boy just rolled his eyes. He appeared to be one year Emerald's senior, and very independent.
"Yer in da runnin' foah leader, but dat don' mean ya gets to run rampant," Books continued. So that settled it, Spot was Dice's brother. And he didn't care about anyone.
"Who's she?" one slender finger pointed to Emerald and Spot spoke rudely as if he couldn't care less who she was.
"She's...eh..whats yoah name?" Books questioned leaning down. Jersey had said that Brooklyn owed them a favor, nothing else was told about the little girl. She couldn't give him her real name, they'd ask too many questions.
"I'se Silvah; Silvah Hawkins," she whispered, using her brother's name as an alias. Spot glared.
"What's she doin' here? She's a goil," Spot demanded, looking her up and down.
"Yeah, I'se a goil. Dats a brilliant assessment ya just made dere," she snapped. And then, looking rather furious with herself she turned on her way back to the lodging house. Spot glared after her, Books just laughed, and Dice smiled. He loved his brother dearly...but someone had to defy the little fart.
Emerald, or Silver, sat on her bunk, glaring up at the ceiling, this was not going to be anything like Queens, she'd need new people, a new selling spot, everything.
__________________________________
1897
October 9
"You need a strength most dont possess."
_______________________________________
"'Appy boithday!" Books called over the noise in the lodging house. He reached a frail arm to Spot, dumping a small box in his lap. The boy was surrounded by gifts, even one from Silver. From Dice, to Spot, was scrawled on the cardboard. Spot ripped at the box, tearing it nearly to shreds until something wrapped in newspaper fell onto the floor before him. Ripping hastily at the object, his silvery eyes opened wide upon seeing it was a slingshot. It wasn't just any sling-shot, it was a leader's slingshot.
Silver had heard of this tradition. When a leader retired in Brooklyn, they passed on their slingshot to their successor. Spot looked with wonder upon the small object. Books grinned at Dice, who in turn, grinned at everyone else. Spot hadn't done to bad on this birthday. He'd gotten a book, a long cane he guessed was stolen, and a small, humbly carved knife from Silver and last but not least, the territory of Brooklyn.
(______________________)
"Silvah?" Books questioned, not too surprised at finding her on the roof again. He crawled towards the girl, followed by Dice.
"Why ya sittin' 'ere by ya'self? Its a joyous time!" He continued, ruffling her hair. She sat on the very edge of the building, staring out across the district, admiring the view of the bridge. Dice knelt down next to her and as she turned towards him, he looked at her questioningly, raising those charcoal brows that shaded eyes beseeching an answer.
"I...I ain't real comfortable 'round leadah's, evah since...well...a long time, I been scah'ed of em. 'Sides, he don't like me," she murmured, reaching up to twist a strand of Dices hair, he smiled, watching her innocent fingers twirl the ebony strands. He and Books began to ponder her response, the former looked up at he latter and nodded.
She's lying through her teeth, Dice thought grimly.
"Would ya at least come in? It's too cold foah goils t'be out, and we wont make ya go neah Spot" Books concluded as Dice pulled her into a standing position and they walked back towards the fire exit. This seemed all too familiar to Silver. Jersey had brought her down from the roof often. She always went up there when she wanted to be above her problems. Dice and Books had noticed this too, but they never really asked why. All Jersey had said was that she needed a place to go, no one had really thought to ask why.
Past is past, Books reminded himself, If she don' wanna tell, I ain't gonna make 'er tell, but Joisey. he's anoddah story.
(_______________________)
"Chase, I needs a favoah from ya," Books began interpreting for Dice as the three, along with Spot, met in the bathroom. Chase was a rather small boy, with muddy green eyes and black hair.
"Ya know dat goil Silvah? I need 'er inside story, I wanna know why she's heah," Spot continued for him, relishing in his newfound power.
While the boys inside sat and ate and played poker, Silver sat on her bed, fidgeting nervously whenever someone said her name, or even something that sounded like her name. She was so involved in her thoughts, she never saw the newsie Chase run off across the bridge.
______________________________________
1897
October 9
3:00 am
"Don't speak...stop explaining."
______________________________________
"Joisey, I ain't in a position to go back wid out an ansah," Chase pleaded, as Jersey held his ground. He'd been sent to get the inside scoop on Silver and so far that wasn't happening.
"Look, Chase, if she don' wanna tell you her story, den you ain't got no business knowin it," Jersey remarked fiercely, Silver was keeping a perfectly good secret, and if it got out, Tragedy would know exactly where to find her; he'd been looking, that was obvious. Fires, Tragedy's trade marks, had been sparking up in lots of popular Queens newsie hangouts, but when Emerald was no where to be found, he'd moved to Stanton, and was wreaking havoc there.
"She don't trust you, oah any one else, rightly so. When the time comes fer her to tell ya, she will," Jersey tried to reason, Chase sighed.
"Den youah gonna have to deal with Spot and Books when they come looking foah a story," he warned, plunking his hat back on his head and trotting outside, it was nearly morning and he was starved. By the time Chase had returned, eaten, and given his excuse to Spot and Books, it was almost noon. And selling for the day was almost finished.
(_____________________)
"Fiahs break out in Stanton! Lives at stake, city does nothing!" Silver roared over the crowds of people. For once she didn't need to improve the headline. She could see Spot on the next corner, selling the last of his one hundred papes. She'd taken one hundred and fifty and had just sold her last pape.
"Need some help theah Conlon?" she questioned, striding over to him, he was clad in black slacks and a blue shirt with his trademark suspenders and cap. His cane lay at his side, and he sneered at her as he sold his last paper.
"No, Silvah, I do not need youah help. I'se doin just fine as you can see," he continued, cocking his head and looking her up and down in disgust.
"You don' belong heah anyways, why would I want youah help?" he'd gone too far, and he knew he was treading on thin ice. She had always been touchy about being where she belonged. And without warning, her small fist swung in a wide arc, catching him square in the jaw.
"You'se right, I don' belong heah," spitting on his shoes she turned and headed back to the lodging house, with a rather dazed, but fully pissed Spot on her heels.
"Now you just wait one damned minute!" he roared, as she was walking up the stairs. She paused dramatically, just to humor him for a second, and then started up again.
"I give you woyk and put a roof over youah head and dis is how you'se repayin' me?" he asked, latching onto her arm. She yanked the appendage back and paused to glare at him.
"No, dis is how I repay yer bruddah 'e took me in, I don't owe yous nuttin!" she roared, walking into the bedroom and climbing out onto the fire escape. Spot paused to glare at the bruise she'd given upon him; it was now turning sickening shades of greenish yellow.
The girl got to him, really got to him. He'd just become the leader the night before and already she challenged every word he said. He knew it pissed her off when someone questioned her standings as a newsie so it was partly his fault. But she couldn't defy him forever. She might even start her own little revolt. The thing Spot wanted to know most was why. Why was she the way she was? Why was she even here?
He followed her out into the roof; he'd pry into her sooner or later. He had to figure her out, he just had to.
"Leave me alone Spot!" she commanded crisply, flopping down on the edge of the building. Spot simply stood behind her.
"Why d'you go lookin' foah trouble?" he questioned backing away as she stood. His voice had become calmer, almost nicer, but Silver wasn't buying it. She knew he just wanted the background dirt on her, and that was one or many things she'd never give him.
"Spot," she said turning around to face him, "You aint got no business askin me dat. I know-" He cut her off, gripping her shoulders and whirling her around so he stood near the edge. Spot was maniacal enough to yell at her, but not homicidal enough to push her over.
"Oh you know?" he roared, intense eyes gleaming with hatred. But inside his brain, a fiercer fire was burning, the fire of curiosity.
"You know do ya? You're da one who has an answer foah every question and a way outta every problem but you know not'in'!" he continued his assault, shoving away from her then walking towards her until she began to back away.
"You keep prahtendin' ta live Silvah! Youah a prisoner in yer own damned house, and even worse, yoah a prisoner of yoah secrets!" he continued yelling at her, and surprisingly, the small girl held her ground. They'd been getting into fights with each other since the day she arrived and it wasn't getting any better for either of them. It happened every day; one would make some snide comment and then the other would retaliate. Never before, not like this. They'd been there before, but not like this.
Okay, I've reformatted due to reviews! Hopefully, it worked this time!
"Never before, not like this." That's from Nickelback's 'Never Again' "You say goodbye." That's the Beatles "You need a strength most don't posses." The mighty mghty Bosstones, 'The impression that I get'
"Don't speak." No Doubt, 'Don't Speak"