CHAPTER FOUR
The next morning she woke bright and early, surveying the small pile of belongings she had acquired last night after the storm. Each item she picked up as she came to it, knowing it was all she had, looking at them briefly, sadly, before setting them down. A cheap comb and a pair of ribbons for her hair, a needle and a tiny spool of thread she had used to patch up her dress in a rather inexperienced manner. A bit of bread and a purse to put it all in. That had been the most expensive item, but nonetheless necessary. Anna didn't want to leave any of her things in the alley, for fear they would be stolen. What she had left of her money was inside the purse, and she pulled it out. Two nickels. Less than she had thought, just enough to buy bread for two days. She bit her lip; there had to be some way to make a living in New York. How did all those shop owners manage to do it?
A sudden commotion out in the street caused her to lift her head. It was those boys again. They passed by three times yesterday, and now curiosity got the better of Annalise. She hurriedly swept her belongings into the purse, darting out of the alley and into the midst of the clusters of noisy young men that crowded the street. She stood on her tiptoes, looking around for that blonde boy. he should be somewhere towards the front.
"Hey goilie! What ch'oose doin'?"
Anna turns, looking at the boy who had spoke, a broad-shouldered and unfortunate-looking lad of maybe 16, wearing an outfit of pants, and undershirt, suspenders and a cap as many of his companions were. "I - I'm looking for -"
"Whatt've'we got heah?" a familiar voice called out, the length of a black bane used to shove the tall boy aside and make room for its owner. For a moment the leader's blue eyes sparkk with recognition as he saw her, then return to the arrogant expression he usually was wearing when he passed. "Youse again? Where'd you come from?!"
His arrogance was slightly annoying, and she crossed her arms over her chest defiantly. This boy obviously had no manners, so why should she waste hers? "Same place I was last time."
Black-Cane Boy smirks. "There? Still?"
Her reply was exasperated, "You need to have money to stay anywhere else! And I don't have any!" This only seemed to amuse him more.
"Dat's life, sweet-pea." he sneered.
Annalise wasn't giving up that easily. "Well, you've got money!" This was obvious to her from the state of his clothes and the fact his gang always was headed the same direction every night, meaning they had somewhere to stay.
"Yeh? Well I woik! You could 'ave some moneys, too, if you woiked."
She throws her hands up in the air agitatedly, too fed up to take noticed of the way the blonde-haired kid was smirking and some of his followers whistled at her before laughing. "I've been trying to find a job! No place will have me!"
Black-Cane Boy merely shrugged, unmoved. "So? What d'ya want me t'do 'bout it?" He turns his back on her, starting to walk away, but she trotted after him, putting a hand on his shoulder and pulling back, not finished with him yet. He turns around to face her again, his face pulled into a funny expression, like he was trying to suppress a smile.
Shaking her head slightly as she spoke, she questioned him, "Well, how do you earn money?"
One of the boys in the back lets out some braying laughter and called out, "Whatt're you, stupid? We's newsies!"
When her eyes moved back to the boy with the cane his expression was cold again, and he echoes, "Yeh. We's newsies." He lifts a hand and pushes hers off his shoulder like she was infected. "Now don't touch."
Offended, she shot back, "Well what if I wanna be a newsie, too?!"
He stares at her incredulously, wondering how he got stuck doing this, his eyes flickering through an amazing range of shades of blue, obviously thinking. For a moment Annalise thought she finally had him, then he fired back, "We don't need no goils - espes'lly smart-mouths who don't even know what a newsie is!"
Her face flushed in embarrassment, what Black-Cane had said was true, but she still refused to give in to him. "Well whatever it is, I bet I can do it twice as good as any boy!"
He shakes his head, just wanting to be able to go now, or he was going to be late for work. His whole group was going to be late. Giving the staring masses a look and a gesture, he sends them on their way, and as they passed around the pair he said to her, "Newsies sell th'papers. We don't got room f'r you, but youse can try Manhattan. Jacky-boy might take in a goil."
"Manhattan?" she repeated hopefully, momentarily forgetting her anger at the blonde boy. "Where's -"
"Across th'bridge, doll-face." And before she could thank him, he had gone, moving off amidst his band of boys.
Manhattan it was, then.
The next morning she woke bright and early, surveying the small pile of belongings she had acquired last night after the storm. Each item she picked up as she came to it, knowing it was all she had, looking at them briefly, sadly, before setting them down. A cheap comb and a pair of ribbons for her hair, a needle and a tiny spool of thread she had used to patch up her dress in a rather inexperienced manner. A bit of bread and a purse to put it all in. That had been the most expensive item, but nonetheless necessary. Anna didn't want to leave any of her things in the alley, for fear they would be stolen. What she had left of her money was inside the purse, and she pulled it out. Two nickels. Less than she had thought, just enough to buy bread for two days. She bit her lip; there had to be some way to make a living in New York. How did all those shop owners manage to do it?
A sudden commotion out in the street caused her to lift her head. It was those boys again. They passed by three times yesterday, and now curiosity got the better of Annalise. She hurriedly swept her belongings into the purse, darting out of the alley and into the midst of the clusters of noisy young men that crowded the street. She stood on her tiptoes, looking around for that blonde boy. he should be somewhere towards the front.
"Hey goilie! What ch'oose doin'?"
Anna turns, looking at the boy who had spoke, a broad-shouldered and unfortunate-looking lad of maybe 16, wearing an outfit of pants, and undershirt, suspenders and a cap as many of his companions were. "I - I'm looking for -"
"Whatt've'we got heah?" a familiar voice called out, the length of a black bane used to shove the tall boy aside and make room for its owner. For a moment the leader's blue eyes sparkk with recognition as he saw her, then return to the arrogant expression he usually was wearing when he passed. "Youse again? Where'd you come from?!"
His arrogance was slightly annoying, and she crossed her arms over her chest defiantly. This boy obviously had no manners, so why should she waste hers? "Same place I was last time."
Black-Cane Boy smirks. "There? Still?"
Her reply was exasperated, "You need to have money to stay anywhere else! And I don't have any!" This only seemed to amuse him more.
"Dat's life, sweet-pea." he sneered.
Annalise wasn't giving up that easily. "Well, you've got money!" This was obvious to her from the state of his clothes and the fact his gang always was headed the same direction every night, meaning they had somewhere to stay.
"Yeh? Well I woik! You could 'ave some moneys, too, if you woiked."
She throws her hands up in the air agitatedly, too fed up to take noticed of the way the blonde-haired kid was smirking and some of his followers whistled at her before laughing. "I've been trying to find a job! No place will have me!"
Black-Cane Boy merely shrugged, unmoved. "So? What d'ya want me t'do 'bout it?" He turns his back on her, starting to walk away, but she trotted after him, putting a hand on his shoulder and pulling back, not finished with him yet. He turns around to face her again, his face pulled into a funny expression, like he was trying to suppress a smile.
Shaking her head slightly as she spoke, she questioned him, "Well, how do you earn money?"
One of the boys in the back lets out some braying laughter and called out, "Whatt're you, stupid? We's newsies!"
When her eyes moved back to the boy with the cane his expression was cold again, and he echoes, "Yeh. We's newsies." He lifts a hand and pushes hers off his shoulder like she was infected. "Now don't touch."
Offended, she shot back, "Well what if I wanna be a newsie, too?!"
He stares at her incredulously, wondering how he got stuck doing this, his eyes flickering through an amazing range of shades of blue, obviously thinking. For a moment Annalise thought she finally had him, then he fired back, "We don't need no goils - espes'lly smart-mouths who don't even know what a newsie is!"
Her face flushed in embarrassment, what Black-Cane had said was true, but she still refused to give in to him. "Well whatever it is, I bet I can do it twice as good as any boy!"
He shakes his head, just wanting to be able to go now, or he was going to be late for work. His whole group was going to be late. Giving the staring masses a look and a gesture, he sends them on their way, and as they passed around the pair he said to her, "Newsies sell th'papers. We don't got room f'r you, but youse can try Manhattan. Jacky-boy might take in a goil."
"Manhattan?" she repeated hopefully, momentarily forgetting her anger at the blonde boy. "Where's -"
"Across th'bridge, doll-face." And before she could thank him, he had gone, moving off amidst his band of boys.
Manhattan it was, then.