Memoirs of a Scab - Part 5 - Betrayal

This part's kinda hard for me to explain and keep you on my side, but I'll try. Maybe you'll hate me after you hear it, but I can't help that, I guess. Right here, this is where I started acting like a scab. Like the kinda scab that the strikers talk about, the kind that ain't worth nothing, and deserves to be soaked. And sometimes I'm sorry about it, and sometimes I ain't. I guess I better stop babbling and just tell what happened before you start thinking I killed Dutchy or something.

I was panicking, like I said. I didn't want to have to face the strikers, my friends, because I knew they'd hate me for what I was doing. In spite of everything my new scab friends had told me, I still felt like I was doing something wrong. I felt guilty, and I didn't like it. I didn't want to feel that way, and I was tired of feeling that way. My body was hurting because that cop had soaked me, and my.soul, I guess.was hurting because I felt bad about what I was doing. So I stood there behind Rye, Christian, and Albino, panicking. That was the first and only time I can ever remember praying to God. I said to myself "God, I don't know where you are, but if you're listening, please, don't make me do this. Don't make me confront my friends, and I'll make it worth your while, I promise you. I'll be a regular alter boy, I promise." Well, God must not've believed me, or else He wasn't listening after all, because the gates opened all the way, and the roar got bigger, and then silent for a minute. We scabs stood huddled up at the threshold of the gates, and the newsie strikers were grouped in front of them like a big ocean of angry kids. And if you don't think that's scary, you've never tried to face down a mob of newsies before. And it was double scary for me, because looking at them, I could pick out people I knew. There was Blink, and then there was Jack, and Racetrack, and there, on the edges, were Bumlets, Dutchy, and Specs. They hadn't seen me yet, but I saw them, and I was just frozen I was so scared. It wasn't that I was scared of being beat up - that'd happened already. I was scared because I knew they'd hate me, and I didn't want that, because I didn't hate them.

"Hey! Rails, snap out of it!" said a voice. It was Christian, and he was snapping his fingers in front of my face, and looking at me like I was crazy.

"You don't look so good, Rails. Maybe you should go back inside. I mean, you'd lose your money, but." began Albino.

I really wanted to take his advice. I even went so far as to take a step back to the World building. Then I saw the DeLanceys standing there, looking as mean as usual. Morris waved at me, and pointed at me for Oscar. He smiled real nastily, and I knew that if I went back there they'd make it real bad for me. So I was caught between two bad things, and I didn't know what to do. I looked back at the strikers outside of the gate, and that's when it happened. Specs saw me.

At first I don't think he believed his eyes. He took off his glasses, and rubbed them on his shirt, and looked again. He grabbed Dutchy and Bumlets, and pointed. I wanted to go and hide somewhere, as cowardly as it is, but I couldn't. All the scabs were packed in too tight for me to really move anywhere. I couldn't do nothing but just stare at Dutchy, Specs, and Bumlets. They all looked like they was in shock or something for a second, but then they sort of narrowed their eyes at me, and started shouting. Everyone was shouting again, and I couldn't hear them, but from looking at their mouths I thought they were shouting.

"Scabber!"

"Rails, how could you?"

"You goddam dirty traitor!"

Huh, so what do you know, Bumlets could talk again.

I tried to apologize, to explain. I said "It ain't what it looks like! It ain't my fault!" But they didn't care. Specs actually spit at me. Now that I think about it, it's probably more likely that they didn't hear me, but at the time I thought they just didn't care. I thought that they was just seeing that I was up there with the scabs, and so they knew I was one, and they didn't care how or why. They hated me now, without even giving me a chance to explain. Like I said, I was sick of feeling bad about things, and how they were shouting at me and spitting at me then - it just made me mad. Real mad. They had been my friends just the day before! They had been sitting with me at Tibby's, eating and joking and having fun, and now. one strike, and that's it. I mean, who was betraying who here? Yeah, I went scab on them, and friends don't do that, but they didn't even let me explain. Friends are supposed to give you the benefit of the doubt, right? I know I woulda. Or at least that's what I told myself. So, I got real angry. I was feeling like I wasn't the only traitor here, and why should I be the only one beating myself up about it? Albino was right. What I was doing wasn't gonna make any difference about what the outcome of the strike was. Just because the people I called my friends wanted to be stupid and go on strike in some fit of insanity didn't mean I had to too! And if they expected me to drag myself through hell for them, what kind of friends were they, anyway? I had enough to do looking out for myself. I wouldn't go doing a thing I knew was stupid just to please them, and they were awful people to expect me too.

One guy approached the mob of strikers. His name was Sal, and he had been a newsie too. I don't know how he got to be a scab - maybe the same way as me. Anyway, the strikers were insulting him and yelling at him, until finally he through his papers down and joined the strikers. The next couple guys did the same thing, even though they hadn't ever been newsies, at least not when I was. You know, if I wasn't so angry at the time, I probably would have done the same thing. Maybe if I had done that, then Dutchy and Specs and Bumlets would've forgiven me. Maybe things would be different now. I don't know. I do know that I was so mad just then that I didn't throw down my papers and join up with the strikers. I stood up as tall as I could, which is pretty tall, and made my hands into fists. Christian, Rye, and Albino nodded sort of approvingly, and did the same thing. We knew what was coming. Every single guy wouldn't turn striker. Sure enough, the next guy didn't throw down his papers. I wasn't close enough to hear what happened, but it looked like he turned to Blink, and then to Jack, asking them to let him get through. He didn't want no trouble. But the strikers, they wouldn't listen. Jack hit the papers right out of his hand, with this smirk on his face. That made me mad too. This kid just wanted to sell papers, to make a living, you know? And Jack and the strikers just wouldn't let him. Had to bring everyone in the world down with'em. Well, this kid, he bent down like he was going to pick up his papers, but at the last second he lunged for Jack, and the fight was on.

Next t o me Albino let out this whoop, and ran towards the fight. I ran after him, with Rye and Christian on either side. The other three, they was just hitting whoever came close to them - I think Albino even slugged one guy who wasn't even a striker - but I knew where I was going. Well, maybe my brain didn't know it, but my body did, because my feet led me right to Dutchy, Specs, and Bumlets.

Bumlets turned around and snarled at me. His mouth was bloody. I guess someone had reopened the cut in his mouth where we'd pulled his tooth.

"You traitor! You goddam scab!" shouted Specs, throwing a punch at me.

I think that if I tried to explain then, I could've. They were close enough to hear me, and even though they were mad, I think Dutchy would've listened. He was always more understanding than most guys. But I was too mad then. It was past the time for explanations and apologies. I didn't feel bad about what I'd done any more, or if I did, it didn't affect me as much as my feeling of betrayal. I snarled "Who's calling who a traitor, huh?" and damn near broke Specs's nose. Specs was all shocked when I did it. Blood was pouring down his face, and he got this look in his eyes, this angry look, and he charged me. It was like this bull dog I'd seen once in Jersey. Some guys had kept cutting at it a little bit and a little bit and finally it just lunged at them, all crazy like, spitting and snarling and biting, Specs was kinda like that. He tackled me and we was rolling around on the floor hitting each other, spitting on each other. Got to the point that I couldn't tell if the blood on me was his or mine no more. Kinda like blood brothers, if you think of it right. Anyway, I'm a pretty big guy, so I was getting the upper hand in spite of Specs's mad bulldog craziness, and so Bumlets hauled me off of Specs and shoved me to the ground. I whirled on him and tackled him around, punching him again right in the hurt mouth. The boy absolutely howled.

Then came Dutchy. I felt worst about him. He looked just so.so.I dunno. Betrayed I guess. I thought maybe he was gonna ask me why, or what happened, or something. I mean, it was Dutchy. Yeah, he could fight, but he never much liked to. I mean, Specs was always flying off the handle, and Bumlets could find something to enjoy in a brawl, but Dutchy was the quiet type, you know? Well, quiet type or not, he hauled off and slugged me. I staggered back a few steps, and then Specs was on me again, and Bumlets, and I was already beat up pretty bad, and this whole righteous anger thing wasn't going to keep me going forever. I couldn't hit back so good, and I was getting weaker. I almost thought for a second that they was gonna kill me, and thought it was kinda funny that I'd been soaked by cops, by train security guards, by the DeLancey brothers, but it was them that said they was my own friends that was gonna finish me off.

Of course they didn't. I heard something that sounded almost like crowing, and Specs was off of me, then Dutchy, then Bumlets. I looked around, dazed, and there was Albino with a big grin on his face, pounding Specs. Christian and Bumlets were circling each other, and Rye had a Dutchy in a headlock. Rye grinned at me, and I just stood there, shocked. You know, it kinda came on me, this thought, that something real important was happening right then, but I didn't know what. Thinking back on it, I guess it was because my old friends was fighting with my new friends. My old life with the new one. Conscience with necessity. Something like that. Or maybe it was just that I was kinda realizing that my old friends, they weren't my friends no more. They was still the same people as before. That night, after cussing me out, Dutchy'd probably bug old Kloppmen to help him learn to read and write, and Bumlets and Specs would probably play a hand of cards for peanut shells, and Bumlets'd cheat, and Specs would yell. I wondered who they'd get to play with them now that I was gone. Because I was gone. They hated me now, and I wasn't in their world now. The newsies, they are great friends, and they'll die for you, but when you stab'em in the back.well, they ain't got no tolerance for that. At least, I thought that's how it was.but that comes later. Anyhow, Specs and Bumlets and Dutchy, they was great friends, but they weren't my friends no more. I might want'em to be sometimes, but they weren't. Albino, Christian, and Rye, they were there for me now. My old friends was taking swings at me, and my new friends was right there helping me out. And yeah, if your new friends are all scabbers, you gotta wonder how smart it is trusting them, but being friends with the guy who might take swings at you tomorrow sure beats trying to be friends with the guy who's swinging at your right now, don't it?

Well, all them thoughts, they didn't come till after. Right then I was just confused, or shocked, or something. Anyhow, I looked around me, and the scabs was being beaten out by newsies right and left. Right around me seemed like the only place were scabs was winning. And you know, a part of me, deep down, in spite of everything, was glad for the newsies. Anyhow, some of the other newsies was coming up to help out Dutchy and Specs and Bumlets, and I shouted, "Scram, guys!" and, well, Rye and Albino and Christian, they looked around, and off we went. So there I was, running with my scab friends away from the newsie pals I'd destroyed. And, even though I was running off with my new friends to get out of trouble, hating those guys that used to be my friends, the thing was, a part of me was back with the strikers, thinking 'way to go, guys', and hoping Specs's nose was all right. Talk about being confused.