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Chapter Five
September 7, 1899
Dear Diary,
HE CUT MY HAIR! That crazy, stupid, obnoxious, unimaginable bastard (pardon my French) Jack Kelly cut my hair! Now, he claims it was only supposed to be an inch or so, but then Boots was distracted and he cut off too much. Far too much. But honestly, what kind of a person would willingly cut someone else's hair without their permission for fun? I hate him, I hate him, I hate him! If he fell off of the earth right now and perished into the abyss, I would laugh. I really would. So, now to add to the list of things unappealing in New York, I look like I'm recovering from the fever. Wonderful!
Moira
By the middle of October, things were not so great in the LH. It was getting colder, so the boys were coming back cold, broke, and frustrated, while the tension between Moira and Jack grew to such a pitch that it was became almost silent whenever they were in the same room. On top of that, Moira had finished all of her books and took to spending her days staring out the window with her head on her hand- bored completely out of her mind.
Her grandfather drank his coffee with her every morning, and they had pleasant conversation before he left to run his daily errands. On one such occasion, Kloppman smiled at her and took a bite of one of the muffins she'd brought.
"Oh, dis is good. Where did you get dese?" He asked, marveling at the pastry. Moira laughed.
"At the bakery down the street. If you like them that much, I'll get some more tomorrow."
"I like 'em. I like 'em a lot." He leaned across the table and squeezed her hand. You know, I just love having you here." He told her, making her smile.
"Well, I like being here."
"I was talking to your mother the other day." Moira rolled her eyes.
"Oh, and what did she say?"
"Something about you turning down an engagement?"
Moira sighed. "Oh Lord, not that again."
"What happened?"
"I didn't want to get married. I would've had to give up school and teaching. I wasn't ready to do that yet." She sighed. "And of course, Mother thinks I'm being a selfish brat, and maybe I am, but I don't care."
"I see. Mind if I ask who the lucky man was?"
"Jonathan Monahan."
"Irish, I see."
"Yes, he is. And he's also rich, and stuffy, and terribly boring. Oh, he's just not for me."
"So, you don't like this man?"
"Not enough to marry him." Moira took another bite of her muffin and shook her head.
"But you told Cowboy…"
"Yes, I only told him that because I've learned that if you tell Jack what he wants to hear, usually, he goes away." She stopped and thought for a second. "Wait…how did you know what I told Jack?"
"Ah, ah ah. I have my magic ways." Kloppman winked at her and laughed. It was only a few seconds before his granddaughter joined him. "Well, as long as you're happy, darling. That's the most important thing." Moira smiled, she didn't have anything to say to that.
"Oh, I'm bored. And I have nothing to do!" Moira sang, making up her own little song, as she began rearranging papers on the desk. "Bored, bored, bored!" She sat back down and looked at the desk, where a pile of blank paper sat. Next to it was a pencil. She took a piece of paper and looked for a long time at the window. Outside, a little boy was walking with his mother, tugging at her hand. Moira smiled, and looked at the paper. Then at the little boy. Then at the pencil, and began to sketch the child. She didn't want to draw his mother; just the little boy, so she only drew his hand attached to an arm, and drew the windowpane around him. When she was finished, she smiled. He was long gone, but the picture hadn't turned out too bad.
"Hey, Moira. What are you doing?" Les asked, entering the lodging house.
"Just sitting here. Watching life pass me by." She told the little boy. He came around the desk. "Here, I have something for you." Moira told him, reaching into her purse, where she pulled out a bag of penny candy.
"For me?" Les asked, excitedly. She nodded and he hugged her. "Thanks, Moira. Have you seen Cowboy?"
"No. Nor do I care to." Les thought for a minute.
"You haven't seen him at all? All day?" He asked. Moira sighed and let down her hair, which had only grown about an inch in a month and a half.
"Do you see my hair? I'm avoiding him, this is why." She pulled at the bottoms. Les jumped back.
"Sorry, Moira."
"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't snap at you. It's not your fault he hates me."
"He doesn't hate you. He just wants you to loosen up a bit."
"Right." Moira rolled her eyes. Les shrugged again and looked at the drawing she'd done earlier.
"Hey, that's pretty good." He commented. She turned and glanced at the piece of paper.
"Here, it's yours." She told him, handing it over.
"Thanks. Aren't you going to sign it?" Moira picked up the pencil and scribbled her initials and the year in the bottom corner. "That's really good." He looked at the clock, which read just a little past five. "Uh oh, I was supposed to meet David at the square at five."
"Wait a minute, I'll walk you." Moira got up and shrugged into her coat. His shoulders sagged. "No complaining, it's getting darker and if anything ever happened to you I'd never forgive myself." She pushed open the door, almost running into Snipeshooter and Bumlets- the newsies were returning to the fold as they did every night like clock work.
When they got to the square, they found David waiting impatiently, hands in his pockets, bouncing up and down on his toes. As he saw them coming, he rushed over and met them, grabbing Les's arm.
"Where have you been? I've been worried sick!"
"Calm down, David. I insisted on walking him, it's my fault he's late." He looked up, noticing Moira for the first time.
"Oh, sorry, Moira. I didn't realize it was you."
"Obviously." She laughed.
"Well, my parents are waiting dinner for us, do you want to come?" David offered,
"I would love to, but unfortunately, I promised my mother I would eat dinner with her tonight because she said she had some very important news to tell me about. I can only imagine."
"All right. Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow." He gave her a quick hug before taking off hurriedly in the opposite direction, with Les dragging along beside him. Moira laughed, then turned around, and walked slowly back to the lodging house.
Upon returning to the LH, she found the number of newsies had multiplied greatly since she had left five minutes ago. She fought her way through to the office, where she found, much to her dismay, Jack, leaning over the desk.
"What do you want?"
"Now, is dat anyway to talk ta me? Couldn't ya be just a liddle bit more polite? Hows about 'Good evenin' Mr. Kelly. How was your day?' You could try somet'in like dat."
"What do you want, Kelly?"
"I was told I gots mail taday. Wanna give it to me?" He asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Moira made a face at the thought of 'giving' Jack anything, but turned around and fished his letter out of the mail cubbies. He snatched it, tore it open, and began to read.
"Can't you do that elsewhere?" She asked. Everything about Jack annoyed her, even the way he breathed.
"Can I ask you a question, Moira?"
"I doubt I should even bother saying no."
"Why do ya hate me so much?"
"Why? That's so broad of a topic, I don't even know where to begin. You're a selfish, brainless, rude, disgusting pig who lives in total disregard for anyone else's feelings or thoughts. I have a whole list made out somewhere, would you like me to continue?" It had gone completely silent.
"Ya know what, Moira? I would radda be all dos T'ings t'ousand times ova before I was a spoiled liddle brat like you. I mean, when was da last time you actually enjoyed yaself? Or a had a liddle fun? You'se so worried about wad people t'ink about you, you forgotten how ta live? I know how ta live, Moira. Maybe someday you will too. Until dat day-" Jack was cut off as Kloppman entered the room, looking very angry.
"What is going on in here?" He demanded. Moira put her head down.
"Nothing, Grandpa."
"Don't you lie to me, girl. What's going on?"
"We just got outta hand, Klopp. Won't happen again." Jack explained quietly.
"You're damn right it won't happen again. I want this nonsense stopped one and for all. Do you understand?" He asked, raising his voice. "Dis is my home, and I refuse to let you two taint the air around it. I've told you a million times, Moira, stay away from him if you can't get along! And Cowboy, I don't want you to bother my granddaughter any more. If you're going to behave like children, I'll have to instruct you like children. If you can't say something nice to each other, don't say anything at all. Is that understood?" Silence hung in the air as both Jack and Moira nodded their heads. "Now, Moira, go on home. Your mother is waiting for you." He turned away from them in disgust and went to go back into his own room.
When he got to the doorframe, however, he began to cough roughly. Moira turned around,
"Grandpa? Are you all right?" She asked, concerned. He continued to cough, not hearing her. Each cough sounded progressively worse, until it sounded as though he would cough up one of his lungs. She made a move towards him, but he waved her away, trying to tell her that he was fine, but still continued to cough. Suddenly, the old man's face became stark white and he grabbed his chest in pain. "Grandpa?" She cried in a panic. "Oh, God. Someone call the doctor!" Moira cried, but it was too late, as Kloppman coughed once more and collapsed onto the ground.
