RACETRACK
One thing I realized from being a newsie is that you are the only constant in your life. I didn't always believe that. At one time, I thought that the others looked out for me and that there was a sort of bond around here; camaraderie among the lost boys of New York.
But this summer, my faith in my friends was shaken. Not really noticeable to the others, but I surely noticed it. During the strike, my best friend Jack Kelly momentarily turned against me and the rest of the newsies. This period of "treachery" lasted only a couple of days until the matter was cleared and our strike leader joined ranks with us again, but it was enough for me to call into question the people around me.
I should never stop to examine things like that. I always read too much into them, and they always seem to permanently affect me. But after examining the ties I keep, I've never felt so alone. Maybe it only seems that way because I'm not an overtly trusting person. Maybe I can count on more people than I think. Or maybe I'm actually alone.
This morning I woke up and felt sick. I don't get sick often, but I definitely was today. It's not a good idea to go out and sell newspapers when you're ill- especially because my meals and home depend on what I earn each day. So I stayed at the lodging house, lying on my bunk with a cold, wet rag over my forehead.
Finally with some time to think.
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MEG
As I sat pondering how I was going to miraculously change, it occurred to me that I should leave Brooklyn. After all, these people have a pretty firm image of me- the way I am now. And why shouldn't I leave? I have no friends here, no roots here, and no job that I have to hold down. There is nothing in Brooklyn for me.
So where to go now? The obvious choice is Manhattan- just over the bridge from here. I could leave tomorrow morning, taking what little I own. I'm sure to find some kind of work and lodging. If not, I could just sell newspapers until something comes up.
Remembering I had to notify Spot Conlon about leaving Brooklyn, I cursed out loud about having to talk to the borough leader. Why does he have to know everything anyway? He never liked to speak to me much, and when he did, his voice was full of contempt for me and his words were often downright mean. It was no surprise that he hated me as most of the others here did, but the odd part of it was how he saw right through me from the beginning, unlike the one night it took for the other guys. He's a good judge of character, which probably helped him rise to the power he is now.
Armed with the knowledge I would never have to see him again, I walked to the door of his cramped (but private) room, and knocked softly. Although I knew he was in there, nobody answered. Eager to get this over with, I pounded on the door.
It swung open to reveal a half-dressed Spot. He wore no shirt, only his pants with the suspenders hanging at his sides. I gasped and turned away quickly, for although most of the people here thought me to be without morals, I knew it wasn't proper for a lady to see a man at any degree of undress.
With my back to him, I spoke clearly, delivering my prepared speech. He didn't answer for a minute, so I turned around, to find him not there. A bit confused, I walked to the doorway, looking in the tiny room to find him flopped down on his bed, staring at the cracked ceiling with his hands behind his head.
A bit unnerved with his lack of response, I looked at him expectantly.
"So…" I prodded.
"Come in and shut the door." He said. I did what he told me and leaned against the wall adjacent to his bed.
"Could you put on a shirt please?" I asked in a small voice. He looked at me, with a 'yeah right' expression on his face.
"Don't try to feign modesty; we both know you've seen more than just this." He said, sitting up on his bed, throwing his legs over the side.
I shifted against the wall uncomfortably, feeling more of the wallpaper peel underneath my back.
"So you want to leave Brooklyn tomorrow morning?" He asked, lighting a cigarette and looking up at me. I nodded and added,
"You said you wanted anyone leaving this borough to tell you."
He laughed dryly as I finished my sentence.
"I meant anyone that I care remotely about. Sorry doll, but that doesn't include you." He laughed again, letting that cruel sound drive his point to heart. I started to leave, fighting the urge to lunge at him and rip his face to shreds, but he stopped me.
"So where you headed?"
"Manhattan." I said simply, breathing in slowly to calm myself.
"I know some people over there. Just… don't act like you over there. I don't think you'll find any borough with people that'll respect easy girls like you. No offense or anything." He spoke with an arrogant tone, as if he were holding the world in his hands, instead of just Brooklyn.
I said nothing, but only looked at the dented floorboards to keep back the angry tears. I reached for the doorknob and opened it, allowing the sanctuary of the outside to flood into the stale air of the room. Before I stepped outside, Spot spoke one last time.
"Wait."
I looked over my shoulder at him, too intimidated by the leader just to walk away. He looked at me a moment.
"You know," He said thoughtfully, "you could actually be pretty without all that makeup."
And with that, I slammed the door shut and walked away.
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Thanks to all who reviewed!!! I'm trying to keep this updated regularly, but I see I'm going to have a bit of a hard time, because I'm always so busy. But I'll try because I'm having a lot of fun with this.
Please review this chapter- your thoughts and suggestions mean a lot!