A/N: I know this update is taking me years again, but I've had so much
stuff to do. Even with school wrapped up I'm working on my bat mitzvah and
there's a lot going on in my every day life. I'm really trying, but I've
also had writer's block as well as like fifty other stories to write while
I do this. I'm really trying to get back to my original one update a day
status from WUAS, but I don't think I can handle that again. Anyway, lemme
get started so I can get this to you faster.
- - - - - - - -
"Damn, it's back to woik once again," I sighed, pulling my newsie cap over my curly locks and slipped my arms through the armholes of my worn plaid vest. "As long as it keeps you an' da kids eatin' I'se not complainin'. We'se gonna be eatin' pretty sparse since we'se gotta stretch for da whole lodgin' house, so don' expect me back from da latah papes 'til pretty late at night."
Spark grinned. "You think I'm letting you go out selling by yourself?" She picked up a crying Ari and started to breast-feed her. "I'm coming with you."
"What about da twins? We don' wanna leave 'em heah, Kloppy has too much on 'is hands at da moment," I said, for once being the voice of reason.
Spark had that affect on me; she kept me making more intelligent and responsible choices for the both of us. I guess it was her craziness that kept me having to be the adult in the family.
"We'll take 'em with us. If I've got twins hanging off my waist and tugging on my skirt I'll seem easy and sexy to the men while appearing desperate and helpless to the women. It's a foolproof plan. We just can't sell too close together," she muttered out without a pause.
"When'd you think all dis through?" I asked. She'd practically passed out cold the night before, how'd she have time to think of all of this. It was a good plan too.
She smirked-Spark had definitely inherited the same smirk Spot did. I'm not sure how many times I've mentioned that, but it seems truer and truer every time I see her with that expression. "Just call it women's wit," she answered back, buttoning her shirt after feeding Shai as well.
"Ya shore ya healthy enough ta be sellin' out by yaself. Should we send one of da goils out wit' ya?" I offered. Her plan sounded good, but I wasn't really eager to let her go out by herself ever, and especially not in her current condition.
"I'se tellin' ya, honey, if I'se alone people'll react bettah. I won' get da sympathy angle from da goils if I'se got Slidah or someone helpin' me along. I'se gotta do dis one on me own," she said, slipping back into her New York selling accent. "Now where'd ya put me ol' dresses?"
"They're over there in dat drawer. I'se still not shore 'bout dis one, Alex."
She paused, most likely in the shock of once again being called her real name. I generally use her real name when I want to get her attention, and it's always worked. "Race, I can take care of myself. I've been there, done that. I'm a big girl now, almost eighteen. You can trust me," she said in a soothing, calm voice.
I was still uneasy about it, but I knew I was never going to be able to stop her. I watched as she slid slowly into the dress that she'd made herself only three months ago, when she outgrew her old ones. She grabbed a brush and ran it through her tangled hair a couple of times. "Less primpin', moah sellin'," I groaned, still not used to having a roommate who had to make herself look pretty before leaving the lodging house. Guess that's what happens when you're engaged.
"All righ', all righ', hold ya hoises. Lemme jus' get da kids, okay?" she said impatiently, scooping Ari and Shai up from their makeshift bed so that they were once again clinging to her waist as they always did. Despite my lingering issues with allowing Spark to leave on her own, I couldn't help but smile at my kids. MY kids. I'd helped create those children. I was a part of them. I still wasn't used to the shock that it caused every time I saw them. Maybe I was a little younger than most fathers, but honestly, do you think if they knew how great it felt to be a father they would have waited as long as they did. I'm almost glad that Spark and I made the mistakes we did. Things would have been a lot different if we hadn't. For one, I wouldn't be engaged to the most beautiful woman in the all of New York. "Now who's da one slowin' us down?" she asked, shaking me out of my daze. I had a tendency to zone out during the warm summer days.
"Let's go," I said, swinging the door open to reveal another day in the life of a newsie. Here's a confession. Most people thought we hated being newsboys, in fact, most of us discussed how much we hated it, myself included. Now I don't speak for the other boys, but I know that I, at least, truly loved being a newsboy. I really enjoyed the freedom that it gave me, and the fact that I was doing something where I wasn't stuck in a factory every day like most people. "Weasel's waitin'. He hasn't seen many of us lately. Business'll be bettah since most of da 'Hattan an' Brooklyn boys is still recoverin', an' so are da oddah boroughs. In fact, it'll be a pretty small market."
"Well, that's good since we'se supportin' so many people off taday's earnin's. Kloppman isn't gonna ask us but we'se gotta 'elp 'im take care of day boys or he'll be foiced ta make 'em earn deir own money, an' most of da ones dat are left really can' move. Even Jack's immobilized fah da moment."
"I know. But between da two of us we'se gotta support our kids foist, den we worry 'bout da lodgin' house. We'll find a way to make enough, I promise," I pledged, hoping whole-heartedly that I'd be able to make that promise come true.
"I'll meet ya back at da lodgin' house foah da lunch break. We'll sort it out den an' give 'em what we can," Spark said, very businesslike despite her appearance. "Love ya, sweetie," she said, leaning forward and giving me a kiss on the cheek before walking in the direction of Central Park, trying to sell her one hundred papers.
"Love ya too," I whispered, but it was basically to the wind as she was already out of sight. I sighed one last nervous, protective sigh before walking towards my usual selling spot. When I got there, I started wondering what had me so worried. Spark had been involved in a lot worse situations, and I hadn't broken a sweat over some of them. This had my stomach up in knots.
"Where have all you boys been lately?" a young man asked as I handed him the paper. The five I'd sold before I'd mechanically gone through the motions without conversation, but I could tell this young man was actually interested somewhat in our lives.
That didn't happen very often, so I decided to answer his questions. "Well, ya see, dere was a big fight wit' some of da oddah newsies in da New Yawk area so a lot of da boys an' goils is injured an' not able ta sell. Dose of us out heah is tryin' ta get enough money ta pay foah 'em as well as ourselves."
"You're trying to support all of the Manhattan newsies off the salaries of the rare twenty or so out today?" he asked, obviously amazed out our attempts.
"Dem. An' me two kids. But it's been done before, so we'se tryin' ta do it again. Da way we figah it, dere's less competition, so we can sell bettah den most days." I spoke normally, not accenting any particular words over the rest, and yet he still seemed interested in two words I'd said in particular.
"You have two children?" He was obviously surprised by this revelation, and I suppose with good reason considering my age.
I smiled, proud of my children though they were just the boy and girl of two newsies in love. "My fiancée just had a twin boy an' goil jus' undah a week or so ago," I answered, positively beaming at the mention of Spark, Ari, and Shai.
"Don' tell anyone, 'cause it wouldn' be good foah me image as an influential society membah," he said, slipping into an accent not unlike my own. "But I was a newsie once too. Stayed in da lodgin' house jus' a few streets ovah. Ol' man named Kloppman, ya know 'im?"
"Kloppy! He's still there in fact. That's the same lodgin' house me an' Spark are livin' in, along wit' da rest of me friends. Ya got a nickname, ol' chap?" I said, surprised that this wealthy, seemingly well- raised man had once been in the same occupation as myself.
"Dey called me Shout. Tell ya what," he said, putting his hand in his pocket. "Take dese five dollahs ta help ya along. I'se got enough ta support meself without it. Give 'em straight away ta Kloppman. Tell 'im dat Shout gave it to ya. I'll come visit da lodgin' house in a week or so, as soon as I have time. All right? Will ya do dat foah me?" he asked, handing me the five-dollar bill. I was amazed to be holding that much money in my hand at the same time.
I nodded, and he walked off before I could utter another word. Finally, when he was halfway down the block it came. "Thank you!" I yelled down the street. He heard me and turned around, grinning.
For the rest of the day I simply went through the motions, selling the papes and letting my mind wander. As soon as I sold my one hundred and fifth paper, I rushed back to the lodging house to tell Kloppman of the excitement of the day. I gave a quick greeting to Spark, who was already sitting on a chair in the entryway before rushing to Kloppman and telling him about Shout, and giving him the five dollars.
- - - - - - -
A/N: I know the endings not really complete, but I'm still forming ideas in my head. I guess you'll just have to wait until the next chapter to figure out more about Shout. Yup. This must be what the Wachowski bro.s felt like after Matrix Reloaded came into theatres. They must be laughing at all of us sad and pathetic people waiting desperately for Matrix Revolutions to come out so that we understand what we didn't quite get in Reloaded. Or maybe that's just my opinion. Whatever.
Also-I was rereading my first chapter today, and I'm totally in love with the whole proposing paragraph! I never reread my work after I write it, so I decided to do that today. I'm obsessed with it. I don't think its healthy to be obsessed with a fictional characters proposal, is it? Oh well.
SOs:
Sureshot: That is so my theory too! I'm like obsessed with how good he'd be with children! Good thing I'm not the only one. Okay, now I get my chocolate dipped Race, and you get Bumlets. I've been without my Racetrack for a full week now, I could definitely use the trade. Heh.
Soaker: Yup. I think it's a good story too. I'm not promoting my writing skills, or anything about me writing the story, but the actual plot. If I weren't writing it this would totally be my favorite story. It appeals to my inner romantic. Heh.
Sweets (aka Bunny): DUDE! I TYPED! Aren't you proud? It took me a week, I know, but it's better than last time!
Drama-Queen: Falling off the face of the internet it bad. Nope, it was just extremely bad writer's block. This time it was laziness. Anyway, hope you liked!
- - - - - - - -
"Damn, it's back to woik once again," I sighed, pulling my newsie cap over my curly locks and slipped my arms through the armholes of my worn plaid vest. "As long as it keeps you an' da kids eatin' I'se not complainin'. We'se gonna be eatin' pretty sparse since we'se gotta stretch for da whole lodgin' house, so don' expect me back from da latah papes 'til pretty late at night."
Spark grinned. "You think I'm letting you go out selling by yourself?" She picked up a crying Ari and started to breast-feed her. "I'm coming with you."
"What about da twins? We don' wanna leave 'em heah, Kloppy has too much on 'is hands at da moment," I said, for once being the voice of reason.
Spark had that affect on me; she kept me making more intelligent and responsible choices for the both of us. I guess it was her craziness that kept me having to be the adult in the family.
"We'll take 'em with us. If I've got twins hanging off my waist and tugging on my skirt I'll seem easy and sexy to the men while appearing desperate and helpless to the women. It's a foolproof plan. We just can't sell too close together," she muttered out without a pause.
"When'd you think all dis through?" I asked. She'd practically passed out cold the night before, how'd she have time to think of all of this. It was a good plan too.
She smirked-Spark had definitely inherited the same smirk Spot did. I'm not sure how many times I've mentioned that, but it seems truer and truer every time I see her with that expression. "Just call it women's wit," she answered back, buttoning her shirt after feeding Shai as well.
"Ya shore ya healthy enough ta be sellin' out by yaself. Should we send one of da goils out wit' ya?" I offered. Her plan sounded good, but I wasn't really eager to let her go out by herself ever, and especially not in her current condition.
"I'se tellin' ya, honey, if I'se alone people'll react bettah. I won' get da sympathy angle from da goils if I'se got Slidah or someone helpin' me along. I'se gotta do dis one on me own," she said, slipping back into her New York selling accent. "Now where'd ya put me ol' dresses?"
"They're over there in dat drawer. I'se still not shore 'bout dis one, Alex."
She paused, most likely in the shock of once again being called her real name. I generally use her real name when I want to get her attention, and it's always worked. "Race, I can take care of myself. I've been there, done that. I'm a big girl now, almost eighteen. You can trust me," she said in a soothing, calm voice.
I was still uneasy about it, but I knew I was never going to be able to stop her. I watched as she slid slowly into the dress that she'd made herself only three months ago, when she outgrew her old ones. She grabbed a brush and ran it through her tangled hair a couple of times. "Less primpin', moah sellin'," I groaned, still not used to having a roommate who had to make herself look pretty before leaving the lodging house. Guess that's what happens when you're engaged.
"All righ', all righ', hold ya hoises. Lemme jus' get da kids, okay?" she said impatiently, scooping Ari and Shai up from their makeshift bed so that they were once again clinging to her waist as they always did. Despite my lingering issues with allowing Spark to leave on her own, I couldn't help but smile at my kids. MY kids. I'd helped create those children. I was a part of them. I still wasn't used to the shock that it caused every time I saw them. Maybe I was a little younger than most fathers, but honestly, do you think if they knew how great it felt to be a father they would have waited as long as they did. I'm almost glad that Spark and I made the mistakes we did. Things would have been a lot different if we hadn't. For one, I wouldn't be engaged to the most beautiful woman in the all of New York. "Now who's da one slowin' us down?" she asked, shaking me out of my daze. I had a tendency to zone out during the warm summer days.
"Let's go," I said, swinging the door open to reveal another day in the life of a newsie. Here's a confession. Most people thought we hated being newsboys, in fact, most of us discussed how much we hated it, myself included. Now I don't speak for the other boys, but I know that I, at least, truly loved being a newsboy. I really enjoyed the freedom that it gave me, and the fact that I was doing something where I wasn't stuck in a factory every day like most people. "Weasel's waitin'. He hasn't seen many of us lately. Business'll be bettah since most of da 'Hattan an' Brooklyn boys is still recoverin', an' so are da oddah boroughs. In fact, it'll be a pretty small market."
"Well, that's good since we'se supportin' so many people off taday's earnin's. Kloppman isn't gonna ask us but we'se gotta 'elp 'im take care of day boys or he'll be foiced ta make 'em earn deir own money, an' most of da ones dat are left really can' move. Even Jack's immobilized fah da moment."
"I know. But between da two of us we'se gotta support our kids foist, den we worry 'bout da lodgin' house. We'll find a way to make enough, I promise," I pledged, hoping whole-heartedly that I'd be able to make that promise come true.
"I'll meet ya back at da lodgin' house foah da lunch break. We'll sort it out den an' give 'em what we can," Spark said, very businesslike despite her appearance. "Love ya, sweetie," she said, leaning forward and giving me a kiss on the cheek before walking in the direction of Central Park, trying to sell her one hundred papers.
"Love ya too," I whispered, but it was basically to the wind as she was already out of sight. I sighed one last nervous, protective sigh before walking towards my usual selling spot. When I got there, I started wondering what had me so worried. Spark had been involved in a lot worse situations, and I hadn't broken a sweat over some of them. This had my stomach up in knots.
"Where have all you boys been lately?" a young man asked as I handed him the paper. The five I'd sold before I'd mechanically gone through the motions without conversation, but I could tell this young man was actually interested somewhat in our lives.
That didn't happen very often, so I decided to answer his questions. "Well, ya see, dere was a big fight wit' some of da oddah newsies in da New Yawk area so a lot of da boys an' goils is injured an' not able ta sell. Dose of us out heah is tryin' ta get enough money ta pay foah 'em as well as ourselves."
"You're trying to support all of the Manhattan newsies off the salaries of the rare twenty or so out today?" he asked, obviously amazed out our attempts.
"Dem. An' me two kids. But it's been done before, so we'se tryin' ta do it again. Da way we figah it, dere's less competition, so we can sell bettah den most days." I spoke normally, not accenting any particular words over the rest, and yet he still seemed interested in two words I'd said in particular.
"You have two children?" He was obviously surprised by this revelation, and I suppose with good reason considering my age.
I smiled, proud of my children though they were just the boy and girl of two newsies in love. "My fiancée just had a twin boy an' goil jus' undah a week or so ago," I answered, positively beaming at the mention of Spark, Ari, and Shai.
"Don' tell anyone, 'cause it wouldn' be good foah me image as an influential society membah," he said, slipping into an accent not unlike my own. "But I was a newsie once too. Stayed in da lodgin' house jus' a few streets ovah. Ol' man named Kloppman, ya know 'im?"
"Kloppy! He's still there in fact. That's the same lodgin' house me an' Spark are livin' in, along wit' da rest of me friends. Ya got a nickname, ol' chap?" I said, surprised that this wealthy, seemingly well- raised man had once been in the same occupation as myself.
"Dey called me Shout. Tell ya what," he said, putting his hand in his pocket. "Take dese five dollahs ta help ya along. I'se got enough ta support meself without it. Give 'em straight away ta Kloppman. Tell 'im dat Shout gave it to ya. I'll come visit da lodgin' house in a week or so, as soon as I have time. All right? Will ya do dat foah me?" he asked, handing me the five-dollar bill. I was amazed to be holding that much money in my hand at the same time.
I nodded, and he walked off before I could utter another word. Finally, when he was halfway down the block it came. "Thank you!" I yelled down the street. He heard me and turned around, grinning.
For the rest of the day I simply went through the motions, selling the papes and letting my mind wander. As soon as I sold my one hundred and fifth paper, I rushed back to the lodging house to tell Kloppman of the excitement of the day. I gave a quick greeting to Spark, who was already sitting on a chair in the entryway before rushing to Kloppman and telling him about Shout, and giving him the five dollars.
- - - - - - -
A/N: I know the endings not really complete, but I'm still forming ideas in my head. I guess you'll just have to wait until the next chapter to figure out more about Shout. Yup. This must be what the Wachowski bro.s felt like after Matrix Reloaded came into theatres. They must be laughing at all of us sad and pathetic people waiting desperately for Matrix Revolutions to come out so that we understand what we didn't quite get in Reloaded. Or maybe that's just my opinion. Whatever.
Also-I was rereading my first chapter today, and I'm totally in love with the whole proposing paragraph! I never reread my work after I write it, so I decided to do that today. I'm obsessed with it. I don't think its healthy to be obsessed with a fictional characters proposal, is it? Oh well.
SOs:
Sureshot: That is so my theory too! I'm like obsessed with how good he'd be with children! Good thing I'm not the only one. Okay, now I get my chocolate dipped Race, and you get Bumlets. I've been without my Racetrack for a full week now, I could definitely use the trade. Heh.
Soaker: Yup. I think it's a good story too. I'm not promoting my writing skills, or anything about me writing the story, but the actual plot. If I weren't writing it this would totally be my favorite story. It appeals to my inner romantic. Heh.
Sweets (aka Bunny): DUDE! I TYPED! Aren't you proud? It took me a week, I know, but it's better than last time!
Drama-Queen: Falling off the face of the internet it bad. Nope, it was just extremely bad writer's block. This time it was laziness. Anyway, hope you liked!
