(A/N: the prize for coming up with the worst thing to do to Sarah goes to
Chelsea, for the idea of kicking her ass all the way to the Brooklyn docks,
where Spot will sling-shot her out into the Atlantic. It was difficult to
choose, however, especially with Sapphy's killing-two-birds-with-one-stone
approach, and also the memorable submission of setting her on fire (the
mental image of Sarah running around in flames was enough to make me fall
of my chair. Twice) Chelsea, in order to collect your prize, please
retrieve the Magic Purple Skip-It from Blue Kat. Maybe she'll give you the
money for dinner, too. Then again, I wouldn't count on it. :--)
*~*~*
The Newsie Princess Of Brooklyn
*~*~*
When Jack opened the door and saw me standing there, he looked like he'd just inhaled a fly.
"Don't...say...anything," I warned, my voice low.
He swallowed. Audibly. "Sorry, Sam, it's just...you look nice, that's all."
"Jack, if you're teasing me, I-"
"No!" He said quickly. "I'm not. Honest. It's just-" but, luckily for him and his pride, Sarah came to the door just then.
"Oh, hello, Samantha," she said coolly, stepping in front of Jack and effectively blocking my view. "Nice to see you again."
"Nice to see you too," I said.
She hesitated a second, was quiet a beat too long. I saw her look me up and down and for the thousandth time cursed my pale complexion for showing even the slightest hint of blush. "Well!" she said brightly. "Come inside and make yourself at home."
I had already met David and Les, of course. Les was a sweet boy, and David nice in his own way, although he still had far to go. And after hearing Jack talk about the Jacobs family so much, I felt like I already knew their parents. And they were good people, fitting his descriptions perfectly. Sitting down to dinner with them I could see how happy he was about all of this. Because, in the end, Sarah could give him something I never could: a family.
The dinner was as uneventful as it could have been. Jack and I were seated across the table from each other, with Sarah, of course, beside him. The conversation was still centered on the strike, and although the food was delicious I can barely recall what we ate. My mind was on other things.
Envy is not only the most common and unattractive of the human vices, but the most difficult to hide as well. We had enough envy at that table to make up for all the virtuousness of the rest of the world. It made me sad to be pitted against someone who by all means was a kind and decent person. Maybe she wasn't the type that I would have been friends with-she was sugar and spice and everything nice, the kind of girl who would cut the peel from the apple in one long strip and then throw it on the floor to reveal the initial of her future husband-there was nothing about her that I could bring myself to hate. I wished there was, though. It would have been so much easier that way.
The only part of the conversation I really remember happened near the end of the meal, when Mrs. Jacobs asked me how I had come to know Jack.
"Well, that's an awful long story," I said. I had a feeling that I was out of the red zone with them; I had spent most of the evening doing my underprivileged-charm routine, the same trick Jack had undoubtedly used a few weeks before. "Are you sure you want to hear it?"
Everyone looked at me in a go-ahead sort of way.
"Well, one day my brother Spot comes home with Jack trailing behind him like a puppy. And he wasn't the handsome fella you see here before you now," I continued, grinning. "He was all scrawny and skinny-" Jack made a face at me here, and playfully I made one back "--and couldn't sell twenty a day if his life depended on it. But he said he didn't have a job or a place to stay, so Spot taught him the finer points of newsiedom, let him live with us a while, and the rest is history."
"So you two...really have a history, don't you?" Sarah said.
"Yeh," Jack said proudly. "We do."
*~*~*
After dinner ended, I, being the helpful guest, helped to do the dishes, drying them as David washed. We talked easily about this and that, out conversation always returning to the strike that we had yet to stop recounting, like children lying awake in their beds the day after Christmas, listing in their heads the presents they had received.
"So you sellin' a hundred papes a day yet?" I asked, drying between the crooked tines of a fork.
"I'm getting closer," he said modestly. "A few days ago I sold nearly eighty."
"Not bad."
"Well, I am learning from the best."
I concentrated on my dishrag. Every conversation always seemed to return to Jack. It would have been nice to have at least one free moment without him in my head.
David continued on. We ploughed through the Les, the Refuge, Hearst, Pulitzer, and finally (somehow) we got to the leaflets.
"Y'know, I still haven't seen a single one of those," I remarked.
"Really?" David said, surprised.
"Nope."
"Oh, well, I've got one in my room. I'll show it to you," he said, and raced out before I could even answer.
I continued on happily. I was feeling strangely optimistic. We had history. Going over to the cupboard to put away a mug I suddenly began to hear the murmur of voices, audible now without our conversation to get in its way.
It was Jack and Sarah.
Of course I had to listen.
Jack was talking, his words too low to hear. Sarah, being a touch shriller, was much easier to make out.
"She looks like she's never worn a dress in her life," she was saying.
Jack said something but it wasn't enough; she continued on.
"Not to mention that necklace. And as for her brother-"
"Found it!" David said as he burst in. "Hey, Samantha, what's wrong?"
"Nothing," I said, reaching in to drain the sink. "I'm fine."
"Sorry I took so long; it was under some things."
"That's fine," said, starting out the door.
"Don't you want to see it?"
"What?"
"The leaflet...you wanted to see it, didn't you?"
"Um-no. I'd better be goin'. But thanks anyway." I flung open the door to the rest of the apartment and found Jack and Sarah in heated discussion, conveniently growing quiet once they saw me.
"Well," I said, sounding as composed as possible, "I've had a very nice time, thank you for inviting me, but I think I'd better go home."
"Oh!" Sarah said. "I'll get your coat."
"Get mine too," Jack called. "I'm going with her."
*~*~*
It was just as easy to talk to him as it always had been. He was still one of my best friends, and whatever momentous change I had expected to take place that night had failed to materialize. I tried to be optimistic. Even if nothing happened we could still walk like this after dark, speaking idly, being friends. Even if nothing happened, he would always be Jack.
But as we got closer and closer to our destination there grew to be a sense of urgency. I felt like I had to say anything at all that meant something.
"Jack," I said at last, "I heard you an' Sarah talking."
"Oh," he said, and was silent for a moment. "Sam, Sarah's just jealous," he blurted out.
"Jealous?"
"Yeh. Of you and me, y'know? We've known each other so long."
"Oh."
"I'm sorry she said that, though," he said, apologetically. "She's not like that. Most of the time."
"I know," I managed. "You're lucky to have her."
And then there was more of the Jacobs business. About what it would be like to have parents, a sister, a brother. Somewhere along the line I realized that maybe Jack didn't want Sarah, especially-that all maybe Jack wanted was to have a family.
We had reached the lodging house now. It was time for me to go inside.
"Can you imagine that, Sam?" Jack said. "To have somethin' like that? To have a place t' come home to?"
I looked over at him. Standing there with his hands thrust deep in his pockets, the earnest expression on his face that I almost never saw. "You got us, Jack," I said softly.
And then he kissed me.
It was nothing, really. He leaned in, looked at me for a moment, and gave me a dry, soft kiss on the mouth. It was over before it even began.
"What was that for?" I asked.
"Nothing," he said awkwardly. "You looked pretty."
It had been my first kiss. I stepped forward, and let him give me my second. And for a second, I knew what to do. I knew what was happening, I knew what I wanted. For a second, I had it.
When he broke away, he looked like he'd just been punched in the stomach. "I'm sorry," he said.
"Don't be."
"No, I-I can't."
"What do you mean?" I said, puzzled.
"I just-I have to leave, Sam." I reached out to touch his arm, but he flinched and pulled away. "I can't do this. Not now." He left after that. Walking quickly. Just before he disappeared, he looked over his shoulder, and I pretended not to see him.
*~*~*
TBC...
*~*~*
The Newsie Princess Of Brooklyn
*~*~*
When Jack opened the door and saw me standing there, he looked like he'd just inhaled a fly.
"Don't...say...anything," I warned, my voice low.
He swallowed. Audibly. "Sorry, Sam, it's just...you look nice, that's all."
"Jack, if you're teasing me, I-"
"No!" He said quickly. "I'm not. Honest. It's just-" but, luckily for him and his pride, Sarah came to the door just then.
"Oh, hello, Samantha," she said coolly, stepping in front of Jack and effectively blocking my view. "Nice to see you again."
"Nice to see you too," I said.
She hesitated a second, was quiet a beat too long. I saw her look me up and down and for the thousandth time cursed my pale complexion for showing even the slightest hint of blush. "Well!" she said brightly. "Come inside and make yourself at home."
I had already met David and Les, of course. Les was a sweet boy, and David nice in his own way, although he still had far to go. And after hearing Jack talk about the Jacobs family so much, I felt like I already knew their parents. And they were good people, fitting his descriptions perfectly. Sitting down to dinner with them I could see how happy he was about all of this. Because, in the end, Sarah could give him something I never could: a family.
The dinner was as uneventful as it could have been. Jack and I were seated across the table from each other, with Sarah, of course, beside him. The conversation was still centered on the strike, and although the food was delicious I can barely recall what we ate. My mind was on other things.
Envy is not only the most common and unattractive of the human vices, but the most difficult to hide as well. We had enough envy at that table to make up for all the virtuousness of the rest of the world. It made me sad to be pitted against someone who by all means was a kind and decent person. Maybe she wasn't the type that I would have been friends with-she was sugar and spice and everything nice, the kind of girl who would cut the peel from the apple in one long strip and then throw it on the floor to reveal the initial of her future husband-there was nothing about her that I could bring myself to hate. I wished there was, though. It would have been so much easier that way.
The only part of the conversation I really remember happened near the end of the meal, when Mrs. Jacobs asked me how I had come to know Jack.
"Well, that's an awful long story," I said. I had a feeling that I was out of the red zone with them; I had spent most of the evening doing my underprivileged-charm routine, the same trick Jack had undoubtedly used a few weeks before. "Are you sure you want to hear it?"
Everyone looked at me in a go-ahead sort of way.
"Well, one day my brother Spot comes home with Jack trailing behind him like a puppy. And he wasn't the handsome fella you see here before you now," I continued, grinning. "He was all scrawny and skinny-" Jack made a face at me here, and playfully I made one back "--and couldn't sell twenty a day if his life depended on it. But he said he didn't have a job or a place to stay, so Spot taught him the finer points of newsiedom, let him live with us a while, and the rest is history."
"So you two...really have a history, don't you?" Sarah said.
"Yeh," Jack said proudly. "We do."
*~*~*
After dinner ended, I, being the helpful guest, helped to do the dishes, drying them as David washed. We talked easily about this and that, out conversation always returning to the strike that we had yet to stop recounting, like children lying awake in their beds the day after Christmas, listing in their heads the presents they had received.
"So you sellin' a hundred papes a day yet?" I asked, drying between the crooked tines of a fork.
"I'm getting closer," he said modestly. "A few days ago I sold nearly eighty."
"Not bad."
"Well, I am learning from the best."
I concentrated on my dishrag. Every conversation always seemed to return to Jack. It would have been nice to have at least one free moment without him in my head.
David continued on. We ploughed through the Les, the Refuge, Hearst, Pulitzer, and finally (somehow) we got to the leaflets.
"Y'know, I still haven't seen a single one of those," I remarked.
"Really?" David said, surprised.
"Nope."
"Oh, well, I've got one in my room. I'll show it to you," he said, and raced out before I could even answer.
I continued on happily. I was feeling strangely optimistic. We had history. Going over to the cupboard to put away a mug I suddenly began to hear the murmur of voices, audible now without our conversation to get in its way.
It was Jack and Sarah.
Of course I had to listen.
Jack was talking, his words too low to hear. Sarah, being a touch shriller, was much easier to make out.
"She looks like she's never worn a dress in her life," she was saying.
Jack said something but it wasn't enough; she continued on.
"Not to mention that necklace. And as for her brother-"
"Found it!" David said as he burst in. "Hey, Samantha, what's wrong?"
"Nothing," I said, reaching in to drain the sink. "I'm fine."
"Sorry I took so long; it was under some things."
"That's fine," said, starting out the door.
"Don't you want to see it?"
"What?"
"The leaflet...you wanted to see it, didn't you?"
"Um-no. I'd better be goin'. But thanks anyway." I flung open the door to the rest of the apartment and found Jack and Sarah in heated discussion, conveniently growing quiet once they saw me.
"Well," I said, sounding as composed as possible, "I've had a very nice time, thank you for inviting me, but I think I'd better go home."
"Oh!" Sarah said. "I'll get your coat."
"Get mine too," Jack called. "I'm going with her."
*~*~*
It was just as easy to talk to him as it always had been. He was still one of my best friends, and whatever momentous change I had expected to take place that night had failed to materialize. I tried to be optimistic. Even if nothing happened we could still walk like this after dark, speaking idly, being friends. Even if nothing happened, he would always be Jack.
But as we got closer and closer to our destination there grew to be a sense of urgency. I felt like I had to say anything at all that meant something.
"Jack," I said at last, "I heard you an' Sarah talking."
"Oh," he said, and was silent for a moment. "Sam, Sarah's just jealous," he blurted out.
"Jealous?"
"Yeh. Of you and me, y'know? We've known each other so long."
"Oh."
"I'm sorry she said that, though," he said, apologetically. "She's not like that. Most of the time."
"I know," I managed. "You're lucky to have her."
And then there was more of the Jacobs business. About what it would be like to have parents, a sister, a brother. Somewhere along the line I realized that maybe Jack didn't want Sarah, especially-that all maybe Jack wanted was to have a family.
We had reached the lodging house now. It was time for me to go inside.
"Can you imagine that, Sam?" Jack said. "To have somethin' like that? To have a place t' come home to?"
I looked over at him. Standing there with his hands thrust deep in his pockets, the earnest expression on his face that I almost never saw. "You got us, Jack," I said softly.
And then he kissed me.
It was nothing, really. He leaned in, looked at me for a moment, and gave me a dry, soft kiss on the mouth. It was over before it even began.
"What was that for?" I asked.
"Nothing," he said awkwardly. "You looked pretty."
It had been my first kiss. I stepped forward, and let him give me my second. And for a second, I knew what to do. I knew what was happening, I knew what I wanted. For a second, I had it.
When he broke away, he looked like he'd just been punched in the stomach. "I'm sorry," he said.
"Don't be."
"No, I-I can't."
"What do you mean?" I said, puzzled.
"I just-I have to leave, Sam." I reached out to touch his arm, but he flinched and pulled away. "I can't do this. Not now." He left after that. Walking quickly. Just before he disappeared, he looked over his shoulder, and I pretended not to see him.
*~*~*
TBC...