"You didn't have to wait; I think I could have found my way back," I lied.
Race's hands were in his pockets, tapping his thighs.
"Well, I got nothin' bettah ta do."
Awkwardly, we walked out of the room.
After following him downtown, we found Raven. I must say I felt like a child being passed between parents. "She's all yours," he said, walking away. I watched as he turned back to us, fingering his pocketwatch. "Unless ya still need me."
I smiled, but apparently Raven had her own agenda. "Nah, we'se fine heah - go sell, Race, we don't wanna keep ya."
"Okay, den." The frown was back and he nodded briefly. "Oh, an' tell Spot he owes me a dime, will ya?" He was gone. I didn't have time to react because Raven had taken hold of my shoulders and was spinning me around, observing my new look. She giggled. "Ya just look so funny in boy's clothes," she explained, ripping off a piece of her sleeve. The ripping sound made me wince. "Heah." She handed me the fabric. "Tie ya hair up widdis - ya can' go around like dat, ain' nobody gonna buy from ya. Ya look like ya goin' on a date or somethin'."
I frowned. "How could I possibly look like I was going out with a boy? I'm not fit to be seen." I sighed, looking down at myself again. Disgusting!
'But it could be worse. These do smell nice.' I sniffed my shirt sleeve. 'Yes, he was right.it's not bad.'
"Uh..whadda ya doin'?" She was eyeing me strangely. "Hope ya not expectin' dat ta smell like roses.cause it won't.y'know, Race ain't big on washin' his clothes too often." She smirked and I could tell she was kidding.
"Oh - oh, no, I didn't expect that." I blushed. "I was just - oh, never mind." I commenced tying.
Raven raised a brow at me. "Okay, den." She spun around and pointed to a pile of milk crates and wooden boxes near the entrance to an alley. "See dat lovely little spot? Dat's yaws now." She smiled.
"M-mine.?"
"Yeah, yaws. From now on, aftah you buy ya papes every mawnin', ya gonna strut ovah deah an' scream ya lungs out!"
I gulped. "Scream?"
"Yeah, scream! Ya gotta make ya voice hoid!" She handed me about five newspapers, which I took with reluctance. "Now lemme see whatcha got." She folded her arms as if she were about to critique my performance.
"But - I -"
"Go!"
I gulped. 'I'm going to have to do this sooner or later - might as well get it over with.'
I took a deep breath. Slowly making my way towards "my spot," I held the newspaper up to my chest and exclaimed in a loud voice (or so I THOUGHT), "Dreyfus's Chief Advocate May Be Fatally Wounded!" I looked back at my instructor hesitantly.
"NO, NO, NO!!" She raised her hands to her head and I thought she was actually going to rip her hair out.
"Wha.?"
"YA CALL DAT YELLIN'?!" She was stomping over and I was scared. She sighed, exasperated. "Now look," she began again, trying to calm herself; I could still see the wildly frustrated look in her eye, though. "Da foist ting ya gotta loin is dat dese streets are noisy - an' no one can HEAH you if you don't make 'em!" I nodded. "Shout it! Dis ain't no time ta be shy, now." She was really becoming passionate about this. "An' see dat spot? Dat's YAW spot. Nobody else's - just yaws. So own it!" She shooed me away towards the spot once more. "Go fo' it! Strut, goil, strut!"
Determined to be an apt pupil and not disappoint her, I strutted to the best of my ability. It felt like an extremely out of character movement for me, but it was what she wanted, and I feared her too much not to follow her instructions.
"DREYFUS'S CHIEF ADVOCATE MAY BE - "
"No, no, no! Wait, come back heah."
'What did I do wrong? I thought that was wonderful!' I trudged back towards the impatient girl. "Wasn't that loud enough?"
"Yeah, yeah, da volume was poifect. Now just one moah little prollem." After about five minutes of explaining the difference between good and bad headlines to me, I walked (excuse me, strutted) back to my spot to give it one more shot for the day.
"Well, I got nothin' bettah ta do."
Awkwardly, we walked out of the room.
After following him downtown, we found Raven. I must say I felt like a child being passed between parents. "She's all yours," he said, walking away. I watched as he turned back to us, fingering his pocketwatch. "Unless ya still need me."
I smiled, but apparently Raven had her own agenda. "Nah, we'se fine heah - go sell, Race, we don't wanna keep ya."
"Okay, den." The frown was back and he nodded briefly. "Oh, an' tell Spot he owes me a dime, will ya?" He was gone. I didn't have time to react because Raven had taken hold of my shoulders and was spinning me around, observing my new look. She giggled. "Ya just look so funny in boy's clothes," she explained, ripping off a piece of her sleeve. The ripping sound made me wince. "Heah." She handed me the fabric. "Tie ya hair up widdis - ya can' go around like dat, ain' nobody gonna buy from ya. Ya look like ya goin' on a date or somethin'."
I frowned. "How could I possibly look like I was going out with a boy? I'm not fit to be seen." I sighed, looking down at myself again. Disgusting!
'But it could be worse. These do smell nice.' I sniffed my shirt sleeve. 'Yes, he was right.it's not bad.'
"Uh..whadda ya doin'?" She was eyeing me strangely. "Hope ya not expectin' dat ta smell like roses.cause it won't.y'know, Race ain't big on washin' his clothes too often." She smirked and I could tell she was kidding.
"Oh - oh, no, I didn't expect that." I blushed. "I was just - oh, never mind." I commenced tying.
Raven raised a brow at me. "Okay, den." She spun around and pointed to a pile of milk crates and wooden boxes near the entrance to an alley. "See dat lovely little spot? Dat's yaws now." She smiled.
"M-mine.?"
"Yeah, yaws. From now on, aftah you buy ya papes every mawnin', ya gonna strut ovah deah an' scream ya lungs out!"
I gulped. "Scream?"
"Yeah, scream! Ya gotta make ya voice hoid!" She handed me about five newspapers, which I took with reluctance. "Now lemme see whatcha got." She folded her arms as if she were about to critique my performance.
"But - I -"
"Go!"
I gulped. 'I'm going to have to do this sooner or later - might as well get it over with.'
I took a deep breath. Slowly making my way towards "my spot," I held the newspaper up to my chest and exclaimed in a loud voice (or so I THOUGHT), "Dreyfus's Chief Advocate May Be Fatally Wounded!" I looked back at my instructor hesitantly.
"NO, NO, NO!!" She raised her hands to her head and I thought she was actually going to rip her hair out.
"Wha.?"
"YA CALL DAT YELLIN'?!" She was stomping over and I was scared. She sighed, exasperated. "Now look," she began again, trying to calm herself; I could still see the wildly frustrated look in her eye, though. "Da foist ting ya gotta loin is dat dese streets are noisy - an' no one can HEAH you if you don't make 'em!" I nodded. "Shout it! Dis ain't no time ta be shy, now." She was really becoming passionate about this. "An' see dat spot? Dat's YAW spot. Nobody else's - just yaws. So own it!" She shooed me away towards the spot once more. "Go fo' it! Strut, goil, strut!"
Determined to be an apt pupil and not disappoint her, I strutted to the best of my ability. It felt like an extremely out of character movement for me, but it was what she wanted, and I feared her too much not to follow her instructions.
"DREYFUS'S CHIEF ADVOCATE MAY BE - "
"No, no, no! Wait, come back heah."
'What did I do wrong? I thought that was wonderful!' I trudged back towards the impatient girl. "Wasn't that loud enough?"
"Yeah, yeah, da volume was poifect. Now just one moah little prollem." After about five minutes of explaining the difference between good and bad headlines to me, I walked (excuse me, strutted) back to my spot to give it one more shot for the day.