Memoirs of a Scab
Part 4 - Scab
Disclaimer: Newsies is property of Disney, and I'm not making any money off of this. The story and the characters of Rails and Mike, and all of the scabs (except for the DeLanceys, of course) are mine
The first thing I noticed when I woke up was that I didn't hurt any more. That's not right - I still hurt. I still hurt a lot, actually, but it wasn't the horrible pain from before. It was still there underneath everything I did, but it was in the background now. Before I couldn't think about anything but the pain, and now it had gone away enough for me to get on with life. I had some bandages on me, and so I guessed they'd brought a doctor to see me while I was sleeping. It was about one or two in the afternoon when I'd been hauled into the World headquarters, and I'd fallen asleep right away. From the way the other boys grumbled, I guessed that it was early morning, about time to start selling the papers. "Get up, you little brats!" snarled a voice that I vaguely recognized. I rubbed my eyes, and looked around. There was Oscar DeLancey by the doorway, growling at people, and hitting them around the head when they didn't move fast enough.
I never thought I'd miss Kloppman's morning wakeup call.
"Hey you!" It was Oscar.
"I'm coming, I'm coming," I muttered, dragging myself up.
"Wait a sec - I know you." He grabbed my shoulder, and turned me towards him so he could get a better look. I hoped that he wouldn't recognize me through the bruises.
"We don't got time for this, Oscar! Just get the punks moving, or Weasel'll have our heads!" shouted Morris from outside, where he was distributing paper money to the kids who didn't have any.
"Yeah, all right, move it!" shouted Oscar, shoving me towards the door. I kinda lost my footing, and stumbled into a boy in front of me. He whirled around all angry, looking like he was going to punch me or something, but stopped when he saw who I was.
"Hey, it's you. The invalid awakes. You feeling all right?" the guy asked.
"I'll live," I mumbled.
"A couple of us was worried about you. You looked real bad. We convinced that Weasel guy to call for a doctor."
"Thanks."
"Hey, you got a name?"
"I'm Rails. Who're you?"
"Rye. I'm a gypsy," he whispered, like it was some big secret or something, and then he grinned, probably because he knew anyone could tell he was a gypsy just be looking at him. He had dark skin, and black hair that was kinda curly. He had a gold ring in one ear, and when he smiled real big you could tell he had one gold tooth too.
"Yeah?" I said, "You gonna do any gypsy magic on me?"
"Well. I don't really know any. I haven't been with gypsies since I was real little. But I'll find a band again that'll take me, and then I'll make all of that guy's," he pointed to Oscar, "hair fall out. How's that sound?"
"Sounds good to me, Rye. Real good."
"Hey - you got enough money to buy twenty five papers?"
"No," I answered. I actually did have enough, but the first rule of life in general is never turn down a chance at free money.
"Then you and I both have gotta see this guy over here," said Rye, steering me into line behind him.
I was afraid that Morris would recognize me. After all, Oscar almost had, and probably would have if he'd had a better look at me. Now, you probably know that the DeLanceys and the newsies have a sort of war going on. If the DeLanceys found out that I was a newsie, they'd never leave me alone. I was actually kinda glad for the soaking that cop gave me. I wasn't stupid, I knew the DeLanceys would recognize me somewhere down the line, but the later the better, I figured. And besides, I wasn't planning on staying around that long anyway. As soon as I was feeling good enough to jump a train, then I was out of there. Maybe I could even get out before the DeLanceys recognized me. I tried pushing my hair around to cover my face, so Morris wouldn't think he knew me. I think Rye knew I was up to something, but he didn't say nothing.
"Here," Morris grunted when it was Rye's turn."You use all of it on papers, or I'll soak you, understand?"
"Thanks sir," answered Rye, grinning so that Morris could see the gold tooth. Rye flipped the coin up in the air, and caught it again. Then it was my turn.
"Here. You use all of it on papers, or I'll soak you even worse than you are already," Morris growled, shoving the money at me. I took it nervously. I think I almost dropped it. I kept my head down so Morris couldn't see my face. Then I was the door, away from Morris, and safe. I couldn't help sighing.
"What's the matter with you? You know that guy?" asked Rye.
"What? No. No way," I answered. I think he could probably tell I was lying, but he didn't bug me about it. That was decent of him.
"So, you know anything about selling newspapers?" asked Rye.
"Yeah," I answered. "I know a thing or two."
"Well, that's a thing or two more than I know. Share the wealth."
"Yeah, well.what you gotta do is, you gotta improve the headline."
"Huh?" asked a kid with real blond hair -blonder than Dutchy even.
"Oh, this is Albino. Albino, this is Rails." Said Rye.
" So youse alive after all." Said Albino.
"You one of the ones who called a doctor?" I asked.
"Yeah, I was there. It was me and Rye and Christian over there. Hey Christian! The invalid's alive!"
"Thank the Lord! It's a miracle! The leper walks!" shouted a guy with brown hair and real thick eyebrows. He made a big show of getting down on his knees, and crossing himself and stuff. He was just making fun of it though. He kept saying stuff that I guess was prayers, and wagging his eyebrows around when he did it.
"Shut up and get over there, stupid!" shouted Oscar, shoving him towards the door.
Christian, Rye, Albino and me started walking down the stairs. Morris and Oscar looked like they was about to start throwing punches, and we weren't looking forward to being there when they started.
"So, what'd you say about improving headlines or something?" asked Albino.
"Oh yeah. Rails here says he knows a little about selling papers," said Rye.
"Ah, the Lord rewards those who obey His will and give charity! I don't know a thing about it," said Christian.
"Yeah, well, you gotta improve the headlines. That means, like.if the headline says something, you make it bigger. Like, a couple of days ago the headline said Trolley Strike Drags On For Third Week. Nobody wants to read that. Nobody wants to read nothing that ain't interesting. You gotta grab their attention, you know? So, most people didn't use that headline. It was pretty bad."
"So you don't gotta use the headline on the front page?" I think Albino was shocked.
"Naw, especially if it's that bad. There was other stuff. There was a baby born with two heads, and a trash fire on Ellis Island. Now those have got potential, you know? A baby born with two heads- well, you can make that into all sorts of stuff. Mutant born in Brooklyn. Now, if you got a choice to but something that talks about a mutant born in Brooklyn, or a trolley strike dragging on, which are you gonna choose?"
"Yeah, that makes sense," said Rye, nodding his head.
"Oh, and if it's a really slow news day, and you can't find nothing at all, then you just look through for something from Washington DC. If you find any story about Washington, then you just shout 'Big Scandal at the White House!' People never get tired of those."
"Hey, how d'you know all this stuff?" asked Christian.
"I.I've sold a paper or two."
"Yeah? Well, we's got our selves a regular veteran here. You don't mind if we stick with you, right?" asked Christian.
"After all, you might just keel over from your horrible wounds. You'll need us to carry you to the hospital-" began Rye.
"And deliver you into the salvation of that pretty nurse that came with the doctor yesterday!" crowed Christian.
I just shook my head. Anyone could be having this conversation. Jack or Mush or Specs or anyone. They were scabs, but they were just like the newsies. I guess kids are kids wherever you go - scab, striker, whatever. When I thought about it wherever I'd ever gone - from New York to Virginia to Kansas - there was always guys that would make jokes about and be crazy for girls. Some things are the same wherever you go . These scabs were the same as the strikers somehow. Thinking that was a bad thing. It made this sort of pang of longing go through me. The newsies, they was my friends, and I was missing them. That wasn't even it. I knew I was betraying them. They was my friends, and what was I doing? Turning my back on them, selling them out for safety from the cops. I mean, couldn't I have done something back there, with Weasel and the policeman? Could I still do something? I felt awful. Dirty or something.
There was a big basket of bread and stuff outside the door. We all grabbed some, and I was glad for it. I hadn't eaten in what seemed like ages. I guessed Pulitzer must have provided the food for us.
"Hey, you guys don't mind if I ask a question, right?" I said, biting into the bread. "Go ahead," asnwered Rye.
"I was wondering.you know that there's a newsie strike on, right?"
"Yeah, we know. And thank Jesus, Mary, and all the saints for them newsies, making a cozy little place for us here," said Christian, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling, and wagging his eyebrows around again.
"But don't you feel kinda bad? I mean, we're taking their jobs. We're keeping the strike from working, ain't we?"
The guys just laughed. I mean really laughing. Albino was holding his stomach, and Christian was leaning on Albino, and Rye had tears in his eyes they were laughing so hard. "It ain't so funny!" I said. I was kind of hurt. I'd been beating myself up over this, and they didn't care about it at all.
"Aw, Rails, youse a regular saint," said Christian, putting his hands together like he was praying and fluttering his eyelashes.
"Never thought I'd see one," commented Albino.
"My, my, so they walk the Earth after all," teased Rye.
"Shaddup!" I shouted, shoving Christian into Albino.
"Calm down, Rails. We don't mean nothing by it," said Rye.
"It's just.you're probably the only guy in this place who's worried about the guy whose job you got. A saint, like I said," explained Christian.
"Yeah, well, there ain't nothing wrong with being worried about them strikers. I just wanna know why you guys went and did this," I said. I was afraid they'd start to laugh again, and so I glared at them real hard. I don't much like being laughed at.
"It's a job, Rails. It's money in my pocket. I've been screwed over in life so far - hell, I think all of us have. So, if God ain't gonna give me the means to make myself a living the good way, and Weasel is gonna give me the means to provide for myself in a bad way, then I'll take the bad way over no way at all. Yeah, it means screwing over the strikers out there, but I've got enough to worry about taking care of myself. I don't got time to worry about them too. Hey, I'm sorry for them, but I gotta look after myself. Nobody else is going to," said Christian.
He seemed kind of bitter, and if life and God had been as bad to him as all that, I thought I knew then why he made such fun of religion and stuff. I guess I don't blame him. You shouldn't either. He was a decent guy. I mean, he said he looked out for himself and no one else, but that wasn't really true. He looked out for me, didn't he? He called a doctor. He didn't have to do that, him and the others. They stuck out their necks for me, a stranger. The nuns would probably say I don't know what I'm talking about, and maybe I don't, but I figure that a guy who'll go out of his way to help someone he don't even know is a good and holy person, even if he does talk crap about God and religion, and says he won't look out for anyone else. The nuns said lying was a sin, but I figure Christian's lies weren't all that bad. They say all those jokes he made were sins too, but they weren't really hurting nobody but God, and He can take care of himself, I guess. Anyway, in case you're planning on judging Christian too harsh on account of all the jokes he made about God and stuff, just remember that he did good things for me, and I doubt he'd do that if he was really the devil's man like some people said.
"Yeah, that's right," said Rye, agreeing with Christian. "And you're forgetting that it gets us out of jail. I mean, I spend more time in jail than out of it. Gypsies are supposed to be master thieves, and I will be too when I take up with a band of gypsies, but till then.well, I'm not that good at it yet. So, I got the reputation of a thief, but I don't got the skills. It ain't hard for a cop to haul me in to jail. Hell, he don't need no other evidence than the fact I'm a gypsy. And jail, it.it ain't much fun in there. I'll do whatever I gotta do to get out of there," said Rye. You know, he was always smiling, but not when he talked just then. He never joked about jail.
"Yeah, I heard the Refuge's pretty bad," I said.
"Refuge? Naw, everyone knows that gypsies is already hard core criminals. Unreformable. They don't send gypsies to the Refuge. They send'em all to jail."
You could tell from the look on his face that there was nothing we could say that would ever make him talk more about it. We were all kind of silent for a minute. It was real awkward. Then Albino stuck his oar in.
"Don't feel bad, Rails," he said, "I mean, I've seen a lot of these strikes, and I'm telling you, they never work. If we don't take the jobs, someone else will. And if for some reason nobody else does it, the bosses bring in these big guys - strike breakers - and they'll beat the strikers till they're begging to be let back in. So, you're being here don't make any difference to anyone except you. I mean, look at it this way. It's just me that's here. I ain't so important that I'll change what's going to happen with this strike." He grinned like he was joking, but I don't think he was.
"Move it, you bums! Stand in line here! Give Weasel you're money, and Morris'll give you your papers. Hurry it up, we don't got all day!" shouted Oscar, waving kids over to Weasel's 'office'.
Albino, Christian, Rye, and I got our money in our hands, and waited our turn. Every kid took at least twenty five papers. The ones who had enough money took more. I figured that the way I looked - all bruised up and stuff- I ought to be able sell more than that no matter what the headline. Sympathy, you know. I dug into my pocket, and found enough money for fifty. I slapped the money down on the counter, and Weasel kind of grimaced at me. I guess it was supposed to be a smile, but nothing Weasel's face does could ever really be called a smile.
"You having fun, Rails?" asked Weasel, grimacing again.
I saw recognition begin to slowly come over Morris's face, and I grabbed my papers and walked away quickly, before he could say anything. I guess I must have looked kind of scared, because after Albino got his papers, he came over to me and asked if I was all right. He looked really worried, and for a second he reminded me of Dutchy so much.it kind of hurt. I don't know, it was all tied up in the knowing I was a traitor. What the guys had said made me feel better, but still.I knew that Dutchy and Specs and the newsies wouldn't see it that way. They'd see that I was one of them, a newsie, and now I was a scab while they were striking. I guess I knew that they would hate me now. They had been my friends, and now they were my enemies, and I never wanted it that way, but that's the way it was. It was like what Mike had said before, about people with the Itch never being able to have real friends, was coming true, and I hadn't even started to get all Itchy yet, not really. Thinking thoughts like that, I must have looked even worse.
"Hey, you sure you're okay? You don't want to sit down or nothing?" asked Albino.
"Something wrong?" Rye joined us, followed by Christian.
"You look like a ghost," commented Christian.
"I'll be fine."
"You sure?" Albino must have been really worried.
"Didn't I just say so? I just need to walk around a little. Get the blood moving, you know."
"Yeah, all right," said Rye, looking at Albino and Christian sideways.
It's kind of funny how people make friends so quick. I'd only known these guys for - what, it couldn't have been even an hour, right? How'd I get so close to them that they were looking out for me like this? I don't know. It was kind of like that with the newsies too. You made friends real quick. I guess Rye, Albino, and Christian felt kind of responsible for me because they called the doctor and everything when I was asleep. I also think they thought I was pretty naïve because of what I asked before - if they felt bad, you know. Maybe they were right. I don't know. It just struck me as weird that they stuck so close to me all of a sudden. Right then I felt that loneliness again. I couldn't be friends with the newsies, I couldn't be friends with these guys - I had the Itch. Hell, I'd screwed things up with then newsies because of just the idea of the Itch. But I'm not telling it right. That isolation, that fear of the Itch, that didn't come on me right away. I was too full of other feelings. I mean, I was feeling afraid of what Morris and Oscar would do now that they knew I was a newsie turned scab. My brain kept going on the problem of who these new guys were who I could tell were thinking of themselves as sort of my friends. I was also trying to figure out a way to keep from seeing the strikers when I was out selling. And I was also feeling bad because I was turning my back on my friends. Damn, I really wish I could shut my brain up sometimes! And the pain was sort of pulsing underneath it all. It wasn't all gone, not by any stretch. Then, underneath all of that, I was feeling kinda bad because I knew I couldn't stick around to be friend with these guys any more than I could with my newsie friends. I was worrying about when the Itch would strike again, and how I could get out of there. It was there on the lowest level, all the time. It was as deep down in there as the pain was.
Then the distribution bell rang, and I heard shouting from beyond the gate. That shouting, it tied in with emotions, and I don't know how to describe it. It was like - once I'd gone to the seashore, and you could hear ocean waves kind of faintly even before you saw the ocean, and you wouldn't know it was ocean waves if someone didn't tell you. Then you'd get closer, and the roaring would get louder and louder, and then you'd see the blue and the waves crashing down on the ground, and it hit you all at once how big the ocean was, and how beautiful. It was like that, only what was hitting me was panic, not beauty. I heard the roaring of voices, and I wasn't sure what it was. Then I recognized that it was the newsie strikers, and the noise got louder and louder, and then, like those waves crashing down on the ground, it sort of hit me that I'd have to actually confront them - not later, right then. It felt like someone had actually hit me. I had felt bad about this, and I had sulked about how my friends must have hated me, but I hadn't really realized that I'd have to come face to face with Dutchy and Specs and Bumlets. They would look at me and see me for the scab, the traitor that I was. The panic crashed down on me, like the waves beating the crap out of the shore, beating it all out of shape into dunes and stuff. I must have started to go away from the gates, because Rye grabbed my arm and said "Hey, don't worry, Rails. We can take them if it comes to a fight."
"Yeah," said Christian, grinning and stuffing his papers down between his shirt and undershirt so they wouldn't get in the way. It was actually a pretty good idea. It would be kind of like armor, I thought. The other two must have agreed with me, because they copied Christian, then motioned for me to do the same. I did, kind of mechanically. Like it wasn't really me doing it.
"I haven't seen a decent strike-scab fight in.God, I don't know how long. Don't worry, Rails, we'll watch your back," said Albino, cracking his knuckles.
"Come on, my darlings, I'm waiting!" shouted Christian at the strikers. I don't know if they heard him or not. I kind of hope they didn't.
Rye, Albino, and Christian stood ready to fight, and I stood behind them, wondering how I could get out of this. The panic and the pain I was still feeling and the guilt and the isolation all swirled around in my head, making me kind of dizzy. It wasn't that I'd never been in a fight before - believe me, I can hold my own in a fight - but these were my friends we were fighting. I didn't want to do it, I couldn't do it, and I think that was the only time in my life I ever prayed. I cried out to God or whoever was out there, 'I don't want to fight my friends. Please, I don't want this, I never wanted this. God, don't make me do this!'
Then the gates swung all the way open.
Disclaimer: Newsies is property of Disney, and I'm not making any money off of this. The story and the characters of Rails and Mike, and all of the scabs (except for the DeLanceys, of course) are mine
The first thing I noticed when I woke up was that I didn't hurt any more. That's not right - I still hurt. I still hurt a lot, actually, but it wasn't the horrible pain from before. It was still there underneath everything I did, but it was in the background now. Before I couldn't think about anything but the pain, and now it had gone away enough for me to get on with life. I had some bandages on me, and so I guessed they'd brought a doctor to see me while I was sleeping. It was about one or two in the afternoon when I'd been hauled into the World headquarters, and I'd fallen asleep right away. From the way the other boys grumbled, I guessed that it was early morning, about time to start selling the papers. "Get up, you little brats!" snarled a voice that I vaguely recognized. I rubbed my eyes, and looked around. There was Oscar DeLancey by the doorway, growling at people, and hitting them around the head when they didn't move fast enough.
I never thought I'd miss Kloppman's morning wakeup call.
"Hey you!" It was Oscar.
"I'm coming, I'm coming," I muttered, dragging myself up.
"Wait a sec - I know you." He grabbed my shoulder, and turned me towards him so he could get a better look. I hoped that he wouldn't recognize me through the bruises.
"We don't got time for this, Oscar! Just get the punks moving, or Weasel'll have our heads!" shouted Morris from outside, where he was distributing paper money to the kids who didn't have any.
"Yeah, all right, move it!" shouted Oscar, shoving me towards the door. I kinda lost my footing, and stumbled into a boy in front of me. He whirled around all angry, looking like he was going to punch me or something, but stopped when he saw who I was.
"Hey, it's you. The invalid awakes. You feeling all right?" the guy asked.
"I'll live," I mumbled.
"A couple of us was worried about you. You looked real bad. We convinced that Weasel guy to call for a doctor."
"Thanks."
"Hey, you got a name?"
"I'm Rails. Who're you?"
"Rye. I'm a gypsy," he whispered, like it was some big secret or something, and then he grinned, probably because he knew anyone could tell he was a gypsy just be looking at him. He had dark skin, and black hair that was kinda curly. He had a gold ring in one ear, and when he smiled real big you could tell he had one gold tooth too.
"Yeah?" I said, "You gonna do any gypsy magic on me?"
"Well. I don't really know any. I haven't been with gypsies since I was real little. But I'll find a band again that'll take me, and then I'll make all of that guy's," he pointed to Oscar, "hair fall out. How's that sound?"
"Sounds good to me, Rye. Real good."
"Hey - you got enough money to buy twenty five papers?"
"No," I answered. I actually did have enough, but the first rule of life in general is never turn down a chance at free money.
"Then you and I both have gotta see this guy over here," said Rye, steering me into line behind him.
I was afraid that Morris would recognize me. After all, Oscar almost had, and probably would have if he'd had a better look at me. Now, you probably know that the DeLanceys and the newsies have a sort of war going on. If the DeLanceys found out that I was a newsie, they'd never leave me alone. I was actually kinda glad for the soaking that cop gave me. I wasn't stupid, I knew the DeLanceys would recognize me somewhere down the line, but the later the better, I figured. And besides, I wasn't planning on staying around that long anyway. As soon as I was feeling good enough to jump a train, then I was out of there. Maybe I could even get out before the DeLanceys recognized me. I tried pushing my hair around to cover my face, so Morris wouldn't think he knew me. I think Rye knew I was up to something, but he didn't say nothing.
"Here," Morris grunted when it was Rye's turn."You use all of it on papers, or I'll soak you, understand?"
"Thanks sir," answered Rye, grinning so that Morris could see the gold tooth. Rye flipped the coin up in the air, and caught it again. Then it was my turn.
"Here. You use all of it on papers, or I'll soak you even worse than you are already," Morris growled, shoving the money at me. I took it nervously. I think I almost dropped it. I kept my head down so Morris couldn't see my face. Then I was the door, away from Morris, and safe. I couldn't help sighing.
"What's the matter with you? You know that guy?" asked Rye.
"What? No. No way," I answered. I think he could probably tell I was lying, but he didn't bug me about it. That was decent of him.
"So, you know anything about selling newspapers?" asked Rye.
"Yeah," I answered. "I know a thing or two."
"Well, that's a thing or two more than I know. Share the wealth."
"Yeah, well.what you gotta do is, you gotta improve the headline."
"Huh?" asked a kid with real blond hair -blonder than Dutchy even.
"Oh, this is Albino. Albino, this is Rails." Said Rye.
" So youse alive after all." Said Albino.
"You one of the ones who called a doctor?" I asked.
"Yeah, I was there. It was me and Rye and Christian over there. Hey Christian! The invalid's alive!"
"Thank the Lord! It's a miracle! The leper walks!" shouted a guy with brown hair and real thick eyebrows. He made a big show of getting down on his knees, and crossing himself and stuff. He was just making fun of it though. He kept saying stuff that I guess was prayers, and wagging his eyebrows around when he did it.
"Shut up and get over there, stupid!" shouted Oscar, shoving him towards the door.
Christian, Rye, Albino and me started walking down the stairs. Morris and Oscar looked like they was about to start throwing punches, and we weren't looking forward to being there when they started.
"So, what'd you say about improving headlines or something?" asked Albino.
"Oh yeah. Rails here says he knows a little about selling papers," said Rye.
"Ah, the Lord rewards those who obey His will and give charity! I don't know a thing about it," said Christian.
"Yeah, well, you gotta improve the headlines. That means, like.if the headline says something, you make it bigger. Like, a couple of days ago the headline said Trolley Strike Drags On For Third Week. Nobody wants to read that. Nobody wants to read nothing that ain't interesting. You gotta grab their attention, you know? So, most people didn't use that headline. It was pretty bad."
"So you don't gotta use the headline on the front page?" I think Albino was shocked.
"Naw, especially if it's that bad. There was other stuff. There was a baby born with two heads, and a trash fire on Ellis Island. Now those have got potential, you know? A baby born with two heads- well, you can make that into all sorts of stuff. Mutant born in Brooklyn. Now, if you got a choice to but something that talks about a mutant born in Brooklyn, or a trolley strike dragging on, which are you gonna choose?"
"Yeah, that makes sense," said Rye, nodding his head.
"Oh, and if it's a really slow news day, and you can't find nothing at all, then you just look through for something from Washington DC. If you find any story about Washington, then you just shout 'Big Scandal at the White House!' People never get tired of those."
"Hey, how d'you know all this stuff?" asked Christian.
"I.I've sold a paper or two."
"Yeah? Well, we's got our selves a regular veteran here. You don't mind if we stick with you, right?" asked Christian.
"After all, you might just keel over from your horrible wounds. You'll need us to carry you to the hospital-" began Rye.
"And deliver you into the salvation of that pretty nurse that came with the doctor yesterday!" crowed Christian.
I just shook my head. Anyone could be having this conversation. Jack or Mush or Specs or anyone. They were scabs, but they were just like the newsies. I guess kids are kids wherever you go - scab, striker, whatever. When I thought about it wherever I'd ever gone - from New York to Virginia to Kansas - there was always guys that would make jokes about and be crazy for girls. Some things are the same wherever you go . These scabs were the same as the strikers somehow. Thinking that was a bad thing. It made this sort of pang of longing go through me. The newsies, they was my friends, and I was missing them. That wasn't even it. I knew I was betraying them. They was my friends, and what was I doing? Turning my back on them, selling them out for safety from the cops. I mean, couldn't I have done something back there, with Weasel and the policeman? Could I still do something? I felt awful. Dirty or something.
There was a big basket of bread and stuff outside the door. We all grabbed some, and I was glad for it. I hadn't eaten in what seemed like ages. I guessed Pulitzer must have provided the food for us.
"Hey, you guys don't mind if I ask a question, right?" I said, biting into the bread. "Go ahead," asnwered Rye.
"I was wondering.you know that there's a newsie strike on, right?"
"Yeah, we know. And thank Jesus, Mary, and all the saints for them newsies, making a cozy little place for us here," said Christian, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling, and wagging his eyebrows around again.
"But don't you feel kinda bad? I mean, we're taking their jobs. We're keeping the strike from working, ain't we?"
The guys just laughed. I mean really laughing. Albino was holding his stomach, and Christian was leaning on Albino, and Rye had tears in his eyes they were laughing so hard. "It ain't so funny!" I said. I was kind of hurt. I'd been beating myself up over this, and they didn't care about it at all.
"Aw, Rails, youse a regular saint," said Christian, putting his hands together like he was praying and fluttering his eyelashes.
"Never thought I'd see one," commented Albino.
"My, my, so they walk the Earth after all," teased Rye.
"Shaddup!" I shouted, shoving Christian into Albino.
"Calm down, Rails. We don't mean nothing by it," said Rye.
"It's just.you're probably the only guy in this place who's worried about the guy whose job you got. A saint, like I said," explained Christian.
"Yeah, well, there ain't nothing wrong with being worried about them strikers. I just wanna know why you guys went and did this," I said. I was afraid they'd start to laugh again, and so I glared at them real hard. I don't much like being laughed at.
"It's a job, Rails. It's money in my pocket. I've been screwed over in life so far - hell, I think all of us have. So, if God ain't gonna give me the means to make myself a living the good way, and Weasel is gonna give me the means to provide for myself in a bad way, then I'll take the bad way over no way at all. Yeah, it means screwing over the strikers out there, but I've got enough to worry about taking care of myself. I don't got time to worry about them too. Hey, I'm sorry for them, but I gotta look after myself. Nobody else is going to," said Christian.
He seemed kind of bitter, and if life and God had been as bad to him as all that, I thought I knew then why he made such fun of religion and stuff. I guess I don't blame him. You shouldn't either. He was a decent guy. I mean, he said he looked out for himself and no one else, but that wasn't really true. He looked out for me, didn't he? He called a doctor. He didn't have to do that, him and the others. They stuck out their necks for me, a stranger. The nuns would probably say I don't know what I'm talking about, and maybe I don't, but I figure that a guy who'll go out of his way to help someone he don't even know is a good and holy person, even if he does talk crap about God and religion, and says he won't look out for anyone else. The nuns said lying was a sin, but I figure Christian's lies weren't all that bad. They say all those jokes he made were sins too, but they weren't really hurting nobody but God, and He can take care of himself, I guess. Anyway, in case you're planning on judging Christian too harsh on account of all the jokes he made about God and stuff, just remember that he did good things for me, and I doubt he'd do that if he was really the devil's man like some people said.
"Yeah, that's right," said Rye, agreeing with Christian. "And you're forgetting that it gets us out of jail. I mean, I spend more time in jail than out of it. Gypsies are supposed to be master thieves, and I will be too when I take up with a band of gypsies, but till then.well, I'm not that good at it yet. So, I got the reputation of a thief, but I don't got the skills. It ain't hard for a cop to haul me in to jail. Hell, he don't need no other evidence than the fact I'm a gypsy. And jail, it.it ain't much fun in there. I'll do whatever I gotta do to get out of there," said Rye. You know, he was always smiling, but not when he talked just then. He never joked about jail.
"Yeah, I heard the Refuge's pretty bad," I said.
"Refuge? Naw, everyone knows that gypsies is already hard core criminals. Unreformable. They don't send gypsies to the Refuge. They send'em all to jail."
You could tell from the look on his face that there was nothing we could say that would ever make him talk more about it. We were all kind of silent for a minute. It was real awkward. Then Albino stuck his oar in.
"Don't feel bad, Rails," he said, "I mean, I've seen a lot of these strikes, and I'm telling you, they never work. If we don't take the jobs, someone else will. And if for some reason nobody else does it, the bosses bring in these big guys - strike breakers - and they'll beat the strikers till they're begging to be let back in. So, you're being here don't make any difference to anyone except you. I mean, look at it this way. It's just me that's here. I ain't so important that I'll change what's going to happen with this strike." He grinned like he was joking, but I don't think he was.
"Move it, you bums! Stand in line here! Give Weasel you're money, and Morris'll give you your papers. Hurry it up, we don't got all day!" shouted Oscar, waving kids over to Weasel's 'office'.
Albino, Christian, Rye, and I got our money in our hands, and waited our turn. Every kid took at least twenty five papers. The ones who had enough money took more. I figured that the way I looked - all bruised up and stuff- I ought to be able sell more than that no matter what the headline. Sympathy, you know. I dug into my pocket, and found enough money for fifty. I slapped the money down on the counter, and Weasel kind of grimaced at me. I guess it was supposed to be a smile, but nothing Weasel's face does could ever really be called a smile.
"You having fun, Rails?" asked Weasel, grimacing again.
I saw recognition begin to slowly come over Morris's face, and I grabbed my papers and walked away quickly, before he could say anything. I guess I must have looked kind of scared, because after Albino got his papers, he came over to me and asked if I was all right. He looked really worried, and for a second he reminded me of Dutchy so much.it kind of hurt. I don't know, it was all tied up in the knowing I was a traitor. What the guys had said made me feel better, but still.I knew that Dutchy and Specs and the newsies wouldn't see it that way. They'd see that I was one of them, a newsie, and now I was a scab while they were striking. I guess I knew that they would hate me now. They had been my friends, and now they were my enemies, and I never wanted it that way, but that's the way it was. It was like what Mike had said before, about people with the Itch never being able to have real friends, was coming true, and I hadn't even started to get all Itchy yet, not really. Thinking thoughts like that, I must have looked even worse.
"Hey, you sure you're okay? You don't want to sit down or nothing?" asked Albino.
"Something wrong?" Rye joined us, followed by Christian.
"You look like a ghost," commented Christian.
"I'll be fine."
"You sure?" Albino must have been really worried.
"Didn't I just say so? I just need to walk around a little. Get the blood moving, you know."
"Yeah, all right," said Rye, looking at Albino and Christian sideways.
It's kind of funny how people make friends so quick. I'd only known these guys for - what, it couldn't have been even an hour, right? How'd I get so close to them that they were looking out for me like this? I don't know. It was kind of like that with the newsies too. You made friends real quick. I guess Rye, Albino, and Christian felt kind of responsible for me because they called the doctor and everything when I was asleep. I also think they thought I was pretty naïve because of what I asked before - if they felt bad, you know. Maybe they were right. I don't know. It just struck me as weird that they stuck so close to me all of a sudden. Right then I felt that loneliness again. I couldn't be friends with the newsies, I couldn't be friends with these guys - I had the Itch. Hell, I'd screwed things up with then newsies because of just the idea of the Itch. But I'm not telling it right. That isolation, that fear of the Itch, that didn't come on me right away. I was too full of other feelings. I mean, I was feeling afraid of what Morris and Oscar would do now that they knew I was a newsie turned scab. My brain kept going on the problem of who these new guys were who I could tell were thinking of themselves as sort of my friends. I was also trying to figure out a way to keep from seeing the strikers when I was out selling. And I was also feeling bad because I was turning my back on my friends. Damn, I really wish I could shut my brain up sometimes! And the pain was sort of pulsing underneath it all. It wasn't all gone, not by any stretch. Then, underneath all of that, I was feeling kinda bad because I knew I couldn't stick around to be friend with these guys any more than I could with my newsie friends. I was worrying about when the Itch would strike again, and how I could get out of there. It was there on the lowest level, all the time. It was as deep down in there as the pain was.
Then the distribution bell rang, and I heard shouting from beyond the gate. That shouting, it tied in with emotions, and I don't know how to describe it. It was like - once I'd gone to the seashore, and you could hear ocean waves kind of faintly even before you saw the ocean, and you wouldn't know it was ocean waves if someone didn't tell you. Then you'd get closer, and the roaring would get louder and louder, and then you'd see the blue and the waves crashing down on the ground, and it hit you all at once how big the ocean was, and how beautiful. It was like that, only what was hitting me was panic, not beauty. I heard the roaring of voices, and I wasn't sure what it was. Then I recognized that it was the newsie strikers, and the noise got louder and louder, and then, like those waves crashing down on the ground, it sort of hit me that I'd have to actually confront them - not later, right then. It felt like someone had actually hit me. I had felt bad about this, and I had sulked about how my friends must have hated me, but I hadn't really realized that I'd have to come face to face with Dutchy and Specs and Bumlets. They would look at me and see me for the scab, the traitor that I was. The panic crashed down on me, like the waves beating the crap out of the shore, beating it all out of shape into dunes and stuff. I must have started to go away from the gates, because Rye grabbed my arm and said "Hey, don't worry, Rails. We can take them if it comes to a fight."
"Yeah," said Christian, grinning and stuffing his papers down between his shirt and undershirt so they wouldn't get in the way. It was actually a pretty good idea. It would be kind of like armor, I thought. The other two must have agreed with me, because they copied Christian, then motioned for me to do the same. I did, kind of mechanically. Like it wasn't really me doing it.
"I haven't seen a decent strike-scab fight in.God, I don't know how long. Don't worry, Rails, we'll watch your back," said Albino, cracking his knuckles.
"Come on, my darlings, I'm waiting!" shouted Christian at the strikers. I don't know if they heard him or not. I kind of hope they didn't.
Rye, Albino, and Christian stood ready to fight, and I stood behind them, wondering how I could get out of this. The panic and the pain I was still feeling and the guilt and the isolation all swirled around in my head, making me kind of dizzy. It wasn't that I'd never been in a fight before - believe me, I can hold my own in a fight - but these were my friends we were fighting. I didn't want to do it, I couldn't do it, and I think that was the only time in my life I ever prayed. I cried out to God or whoever was out there, 'I don't want to fight my friends. Please, I don't want this, I never wanted this. God, don't make me do this!'
Then the gates swung all the way open.
