THE GIRLS WAY or THE HARD WAY
By. Freckles McLean: Freckles0002hotmail.com
Disclaimer: They're not mine I swear! If you see a name and don't recognize it from the movie then it came out of my little head.
Author's Note: To borrow inspiration from one of the greatest minds of our time I only have one thing to say... Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming swimming swimming
And now for something completely different
It was midnight, the time of change and magic, the hour of renewal and the time of nightmares. If the owl was to be believed, night was the only intelligent time to attempt deep thought. During the day the sun, with its omnipotent power, is a constant drain on the body's energy. Not an appropriate time at all to try and think. But night, with its natural calmness and almost gentle relaxation has been gravely misjudged as a time of rest and should be re-categorized as the time to let the mind fly.
Perhaps that is why Freckles found herself awake at the witching hour. Her brain refused to release the joys and stresses of the day though her body called for the nourishment of sleep. Freckles was trying to enjoy the feel of her bed for the last time. The majority of the girls were already set up and resting at the new headquarters in Brooklyn but Freckles had chosen to remain on the Island for this last night.
Staten Island with all it's trials and tribulations, had been her home and though it had not been a warm and loving one, it held the safety of familiarity. Freckles didn't like running away, which was what this move to Brooklyn was no matter how Chuck's tried to sell her on "self preservation". A path run by a coward cannot be called any other name though it be run by a brave man.
Or woman
Freckles thoughts began to take form as the awesomeness of the day began to wash over her. She had feared Spot Conlon for so long, facing him almost seemed like a bad dream instead of a reality. If she tried hard she could almost convince herself the meeting had not really happened.
'He remembers me; I can feel it in my gut. But what exactly does he remember'
For Spot, the past might be only a fleeting memory but for Freckles it was a nightmare she had lived with for years. Her own personal boogieman.
'Who smelled me. I wonder what the boogieman of Brooklyn would have smelled like?'
The shocking suggestions her mind came up with quickly made her change her mental conversation to a less grin inducing subject.
'Safe. Your girls are in a safe, warm, well warm enough, house tonight and they are all going to wake up alive. '
The thought was almost relieving enough to put Freckles to sleep. It was strange to think back to just last week when she had made the decision to try her chances with Brooklyn and move in. A desperate act, in every definition of the phrase, to try and take on Spot Conlon himself. Bur Freckles had been desperate.
It had all started out so well, as most good intentioned things in life usually do. It began with the leader of the Staten Island newies taking in a little waif of a girl and training her to be a newsie. Freckles had been the first girl newsie anyone had ever heard of and all the boys had protested at the thought of the profession going co-ed.
When word got out about what the leader, Rocks Drougue, had done, no one really had the nerve to tell Rock's what they thought but that didn't stop them from letting Freckles know. No words were necessary and very few were often said. The only sound would be a sharp grunt from Freckles as their fists laid into her. She learned quickly that traveling off the Island was not an option for her. On the Island she was safe, Rock's stood up for her, trained her, and protected her. She had asked him why once and all he had said, was that she reminded him of someone. The look on his face was enough for Freckles never to ask again.
Rocks was really her only companion. In a strange way they suited each other. They were both cold and didn't like talking or people who spoke, so a comfortable silence was all they needed and for a short time, things were looking up.
Famous last words.
A power shift came to Staten Island. Rocks Drougue, the newsie legend, that had works the streets of New York long before the Kelly's and Spot's of the world had sold their first paper, was retiring.
Rocks let her know a week in advance that he was stepping down and retiring. She knew what that meant and the look in his eyes only confirmed her gut feeling. Freckles would no longer be safe in Staten Island.
She left the day before Rocks did. Her first thought was to try and get out of the city all together. To go to Jersey or even Boston but something held her back. Cowardice or instinct, she didn't know but something told her to stay, not give up her home, not to run.
She tried the non-newsie life for a little while and got a job in a factory, which she hated. They forced her to cut her hair as short as her chin and ware tight boys clothing for fear that a dress would get caught in the machines. The bonus that came out of this was that she honestly looked like a boy and could walk the streets without fear of a newsie ambush.
This lasted until puberty. Suddenly, the tight boys clothes were no longer serving as a hindrance to public attention. She had a choice of being the curvy girl in tight men's clothes, or the strange boy in a woman's dress, there was no way to hide. The problem finally escaladed to a pitch when she caught the attention of her boss.
After and encounter which left her boss unable to bend over for a week, she was fired due to "cut backs". Freckles resorted to what every street kid must do at some point in their lives. She slept on the streets and went to bed; otherwise know as a dirt alley, hungry almost every night. When winter hit she was ready to become a statistic, one that rich people could shake their heads over and then attend some random charity ball. Another dead run away the bulls could be happy to have off their hands.
Almost against her will, she survived. After that winter, as almost a testament to her perseverance, thing got a little better. Freckles could wonder around the streets now, her hair grown out long enough that she could ware a dress with out getting funny looks. So she stole when she could, begged if she saw a rich elderly lady and got by as best she could, but one day all that changed.
A distant clock somewhere in the distance chimed loudly. Freckles didn't know if the single chime stood for 12:30 or 1:00 but it did nothing to slow down her minds ride on memory lane.
She could never help but smile as she thought back to the day when she had met Chuck's. Freckles wasn't a spiritual person but she should couldn't help but sense that there was a force that day guiding the two of them together.
'Ahhh...Here I am, minding my own business. Which usually means something horrible is about to happen'
Just as she finished that though, what felt like a battering ram, decided to collide with the side of her body. At first the only thing she could think of was the incredibility of how fast the ground was rushing up to meet her face. After a rather sharp introduction to the cement, the only thought she could process was the wild pondering of where exactly was it that all your breath went when it left your body so fast.
Freckles tumbled around with her new battering ram a bit more before she was finally able to get her head together and distinguish her limbs from that of the ram's. As she tried to sit up she noticed something rather important, she and the ram were surrounded by a group of boys. Freckles felt her gut clinch and her tongue swell in her mouth with fear.
'They found me, oh god, the finally found me!'
Freckles braced herself for the first blow she knew would soon come but as she paused in the moments before she was sure her life would end she noticed that not one of the boy's in the group was looking at her. Not that she was a glutton for their attention at this particular moment but they were saving their glares for the groaning pile of clothes next to her that she had given the nickname Ram.
As her lovely battering ram turned itself over Freckles got a glimpse of a terrified face, a terrified female face, which, gave her pause for a moment. In her minds eye she could imagine a frighteningly similar image with herself as the surrounded prey. Would that be the look on her face when the Staten Island boys finally caught up with her. The glassy tone to her eyes and the pink flush of panic on her cheeks.
Her morbid imagination was interrupted when two of the boys roughly pulled girl to her feet turned her around and held her arms. The tallest boy, who seemed to be their leader, approached the captured girl, he had mud all over his face but that didn't hide a murderous glint in his eyes.
"It wasn't very nice ta throw mud at me now was is Woodchuck?" He hadn't even finished his rhetorical question before throwing a punch that caught her in the stomach. Freckles saw the ram's face contort with pain before she doubled over.
His technique needs serious work. Any idiot knew not ta throw a punch with your thumb tucked inside your fist, your likely ta break your own finger.
Freckles didn't know where the urge came from or why she felt like standing up for this girl, but something called out to her. Some might say Freckles felt sorry for her but it was most likely the principle that nobody deserved to get their ass kicked by a guy who couldn't even throw a proper punch. Street kids didn't have rules but they held fast to their principles.
"Hey! Leave her alone!"
Was that her voice sounding all authoritive and stuff? Her brief moment of pride slowly slipped away as she noticed that she suddenly had the whole groups attention. She would never know that it was more surprise than anything that caused her to gain the gangs sole attention. They were all stupefied at the fact that they had almost followed her order as if she was their leader. Something in her tone almost made them do it. The true leader was the first to shake himself free of the surprise.
"And what are you gonna do about it, little girl?"
He couldn't help but notice her stance. She stood as if there was a straight board attached to her back and kept her chin held so high she literally was looking down her nose at him and his gang. The way she had spoken to them shook him the most, without actually looking at her you would have thought it was the Queen of New York barking orders at you, in a deep New York accent no less.
"Why don't you come ova here and find out?" His stomach fluttered at her threat. She was a small thing, obviously had trouble finding three squares a day, and most importantly she was a GIRL, but he couldn't deny it, his stomach had fluttered with nerves.
Freckles saw his eyes narrow at her words. The murderous look he had been sharing with Woodchuck was now bestowed upon her. This conversation was most definitely about to become a confrontation.
He walked over slowly and deliberately, stopping only three inches away." I don't see any thing happening," he gave her a patronizing look.
Freckles returned it. "Wait"
Her left knee suddenly lifted and connected squarely between his legs, catching him so hard that it lifted him an inch off the ground before dropping him. Freckles had no time to enjoy watching him crumple up in pain. His boys immediately attacked, Freckles didn't need to know the number to figure she was about to get her ass kicked and reshaped. She had been outnumbering 3 to 1 before and the outcome had always been the same.
With their leader down for the count, the gang boys didn't quite know what to do after completely knocking the stuffing out of her, so they simply picked up their leader and walked off. Freckles knew he would be furious when he found out that she had been left alive and his other intended victim not touched at all.
The girl, Woodchuck if she remembered right, ran over to help her sit up. The worst part of getting beat up is the first time you sit up afterward. The fear of a broken rib, the pain of bruised muscles and the guaranteed sore butt, always made the process an exciting one.
"Wow, you took that really well. Thanks," Freckles flinched at Woodchucks voice. Was her voice always that squeaky or was this just Freckles lucky day.
"No problem. I've gotten ten times worse from boys who actually know how to fight. Why were they chasin' ya?" Freckles tried to subtlety wiped some blood from her lip but she still saw Woodchuck grimace.
"Some of Rova's boys were not acting in a gentlemanly fashion towards me so I gave them what dey deserved," the girl blushed at her own stupidity. She usually knew better than to start shit with Rover but this one time she had final let her emotions dictate her actions.
"Is Rova da guy who is now unable to have children?" Freckles couldn't help but released a proud chuckle over her work.
"Yeah. He's da leader. There're just a bunch of idiot guys who think there're special 'cause they claimed a cornah ta call their own," the girl informed.
"There're a cornah gang!?" Freckles release a snort of laughter and shook her head "I shoulda saved my energy. So, what's your name Kid?"
"Woodchuck...but my real names Alison,"
"Whoa!" Freckles eye widened at that admission "word to da wise; neva tell anyone your real name, my names Freckles, as far as any one knows anyway," Unthinkingly Freckles, in the newsie fashion, raised her hand, spat in it, and extended it to Woodchuck, who gave it a strange look before doing the same.
From then on they were always together but a partnership was never officially established. Woodchuck simply invited Freckles back to her house, which was the only solid room left in a burnt down apartment building, high class living for a street kid, and Freckles never left. The strange thing about this duo was that, unlike most street kids who partner up, they shared. A person living alone on the streets was a loner, two, a partnership and three, a gang. The gang has to share their goods as a community while a partnership was usually based on the concept that there was safety in numbers and involved no sharing. Freckles and Woodchuck, who had been re-nicknamed Chucks, survived together, sharing whatever loot they got. Chucks was an expert pickpocket and Freckles was as sly as a ghost when it came to swiping from food carts.
Slowly but surely they became a gang. They would run into other girls who were streets kids and either soak them or join together. The gang was getting larger everyday and with that a few problems arose. A large gang of girls or guys will always draw attention to itself and for some reason; outlaw street girls gone wild was a media frenzy. All the papers loved having stories about the female youth becoming delinquents and soon enough all the rich folks in the area were worried about being murdered in their beds by female ruffians.
Freckles, Chucks and the gang had to go legit fast, at the same time they were quickly out growing their home. Freckles easily had the perfect solution. She began to teach the girls everything that Rocks had taught her, from hawking the headlines to sympathy sales. No more street kid techniques, they were serious now and were prepared to do serious damage and Freckles knew exactly who she wanted their first target to be.
In the past there had been many wars and many territories had been gained through hostile takeovers but never in the history of the newsie world had their been a female newsie territory. Freckles, was ready to take the first by any means necessary.
One big war and one major victory had been all it took. Freckles and her gang including her five main officers had made history. They controlled all of the North East shore of Staten Island. They were legendary, they were notorious and for what seemed like a short time, they were happy.
'Hmmmm, here I am, minding my own business, something terrible is gonna happen'
By. Freckles McLean: Freckles0002hotmail.com
Disclaimer: They're not mine I swear! If you see a name and don't recognize it from the movie then it came out of my little head.
Author's Note: To borrow inspiration from one of the greatest minds of our time I only have one thing to say... Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming swimming swimming
And now for something completely different
It was midnight, the time of change and magic, the hour of renewal and the time of nightmares. If the owl was to be believed, night was the only intelligent time to attempt deep thought. During the day the sun, with its omnipotent power, is a constant drain on the body's energy. Not an appropriate time at all to try and think. But night, with its natural calmness and almost gentle relaxation has been gravely misjudged as a time of rest and should be re-categorized as the time to let the mind fly.
Perhaps that is why Freckles found herself awake at the witching hour. Her brain refused to release the joys and stresses of the day though her body called for the nourishment of sleep. Freckles was trying to enjoy the feel of her bed for the last time. The majority of the girls were already set up and resting at the new headquarters in Brooklyn but Freckles had chosen to remain on the Island for this last night.
Staten Island with all it's trials and tribulations, had been her home and though it had not been a warm and loving one, it held the safety of familiarity. Freckles didn't like running away, which was what this move to Brooklyn was no matter how Chuck's tried to sell her on "self preservation". A path run by a coward cannot be called any other name though it be run by a brave man.
Or woman
Freckles thoughts began to take form as the awesomeness of the day began to wash over her. She had feared Spot Conlon for so long, facing him almost seemed like a bad dream instead of a reality. If she tried hard she could almost convince herself the meeting had not really happened.
'He remembers me; I can feel it in my gut. But what exactly does he remember'
For Spot, the past might be only a fleeting memory but for Freckles it was a nightmare she had lived with for years. Her own personal boogieman.
'Who smelled me. I wonder what the boogieman of Brooklyn would have smelled like?'
The shocking suggestions her mind came up with quickly made her change her mental conversation to a less grin inducing subject.
'Safe. Your girls are in a safe, warm, well warm enough, house tonight and they are all going to wake up alive. '
The thought was almost relieving enough to put Freckles to sleep. It was strange to think back to just last week when she had made the decision to try her chances with Brooklyn and move in. A desperate act, in every definition of the phrase, to try and take on Spot Conlon himself. Bur Freckles had been desperate.
It had all started out so well, as most good intentioned things in life usually do. It began with the leader of the Staten Island newies taking in a little waif of a girl and training her to be a newsie. Freckles had been the first girl newsie anyone had ever heard of and all the boys had protested at the thought of the profession going co-ed.
When word got out about what the leader, Rocks Drougue, had done, no one really had the nerve to tell Rock's what they thought but that didn't stop them from letting Freckles know. No words were necessary and very few were often said. The only sound would be a sharp grunt from Freckles as their fists laid into her. She learned quickly that traveling off the Island was not an option for her. On the Island she was safe, Rock's stood up for her, trained her, and protected her. She had asked him why once and all he had said, was that she reminded him of someone. The look on his face was enough for Freckles never to ask again.
Rocks was really her only companion. In a strange way they suited each other. They were both cold and didn't like talking or people who spoke, so a comfortable silence was all they needed and for a short time, things were looking up.
Famous last words.
A power shift came to Staten Island. Rocks Drougue, the newsie legend, that had works the streets of New York long before the Kelly's and Spot's of the world had sold their first paper, was retiring.
Rocks let her know a week in advance that he was stepping down and retiring. She knew what that meant and the look in his eyes only confirmed her gut feeling. Freckles would no longer be safe in Staten Island.
She left the day before Rocks did. Her first thought was to try and get out of the city all together. To go to Jersey or even Boston but something held her back. Cowardice or instinct, she didn't know but something told her to stay, not give up her home, not to run.
She tried the non-newsie life for a little while and got a job in a factory, which she hated. They forced her to cut her hair as short as her chin and ware tight boys clothing for fear that a dress would get caught in the machines. The bonus that came out of this was that she honestly looked like a boy and could walk the streets without fear of a newsie ambush.
This lasted until puberty. Suddenly, the tight boys clothes were no longer serving as a hindrance to public attention. She had a choice of being the curvy girl in tight men's clothes, or the strange boy in a woman's dress, there was no way to hide. The problem finally escaladed to a pitch when she caught the attention of her boss.
After and encounter which left her boss unable to bend over for a week, she was fired due to "cut backs". Freckles resorted to what every street kid must do at some point in their lives. She slept on the streets and went to bed; otherwise know as a dirt alley, hungry almost every night. When winter hit she was ready to become a statistic, one that rich people could shake their heads over and then attend some random charity ball. Another dead run away the bulls could be happy to have off their hands.
Almost against her will, she survived. After that winter, as almost a testament to her perseverance, thing got a little better. Freckles could wonder around the streets now, her hair grown out long enough that she could ware a dress with out getting funny looks. So she stole when she could, begged if she saw a rich elderly lady and got by as best she could, but one day all that changed.
A distant clock somewhere in the distance chimed loudly. Freckles didn't know if the single chime stood for 12:30 or 1:00 but it did nothing to slow down her minds ride on memory lane.
She could never help but smile as she thought back to the day when she had met Chuck's. Freckles wasn't a spiritual person but she should couldn't help but sense that there was a force that day guiding the two of them together.
'Ahhh...Here I am, minding my own business. Which usually means something horrible is about to happen'
Just as she finished that though, what felt like a battering ram, decided to collide with the side of her body. At first the only thing she could think of was the incredibility of how fast the ground was rushing up to meet her face. After a rather sharp introduction to the cement, the only thought she could process was the wild pondering of where exactly was it that all your breath went when it left your body so fast.
Freckles tumbled around with her new battering ram a bit more before she was finally able to get her head together and distinguish her limbs from that of the ram's. As she tried to sit up she noticed something rather important, she and the ram were surrounded by a group of boys. Freckles felt her gut clinch and her tongue swell in her mouth with fear.
'They found me, oh god, the finally found me!'
Freckles braced herself for the first blow she knew would soon come but as she paused in the moments before she was sure her life would end she noticed that not one of the boy's in the group was looking at her. Not that she was a glutton for their attention at this particular moment but they were saving their glares for the groaning pile of clothes next to her that she had given the nickname Ram.
As her lovely battering ram turned itself over Freckles got a glimpse of a terrified face, a terrified female face, which, gave her pause for a moment. In her minds eye she could imagine a frighteningly similar image with herself as the surrounded prey. Would that be the look on her face when the Staten Island boys finally caught up with her. The glassy tone to her eyes and the pink flush of panic on her cheeks.
Her morbid imagination was interrupted when two of the boys roughly pulled girl to her feet turned her around and held her arms. The tallest boy, who seemed to be their leader, approached the captured girl, he had mud all over his face but that didn't hide a murderous glint in his eyes.
"It wasn't very nice ta throw mud at me now was is Woodchuck?" He hadn't even finished his rhetorical question before throwing a punch that caught her in the stomach. Freckles saw the ram's face contort with pain before she doubled over.
His technique needs serious work. Any idiot knew not ta throw a punch with your thumb tucked inside your fist, your likely ta break your own finger.
Freckles didn't know where the urge came from or why she felt like standing up for this girl, but something called out to her. Some might say Freckles felt sorry for her but it was most likely the principle that nobody deserved to get their ass kicked by a guy who couldn't even throw a proper punch. Street kids didn't have rules but they held fast to their principles.
"Hey! Leave her alone!"
Was that her voice sounding all authoritive and stuff? Her brief moment of pride slowly slipped away as she noticed that she suddenly had the whole groups attention. She would never know that it was more surprise than anything that caused her to gain the gangs sole attention. They were all stupefied at the fact that they had almost followed her order as if she was their leader. Something in her tone almost made them do it. The true leader was the first to shake himself free of the surprise.
"And what are you gonna do about it, little girl?"
He couldn't help but notice her stance. She stood as if there was a straight board attached to her back and kept her chin held so high she literally was looking down her nose at him and his gang. The way she had spoken to them shook him the most, without actually looking at her you would have thought it was the Queen of New York barking orders at you, in a deep New York accent no less.
"Why don't you come ova here and find out?" His stomach fluttered at her threat. She was a small thing, obviously had trouble finding three squares a day, and most importantly she was a GIRL, but he couldn't deny it, his stomach had fluttered with nerves.
Freckles saw his eyes narrow at her words. The murderous look he had been sharing with Woodchuck was now bestowed upon her. This conversation was most definitely about to become a confrontation.
He walked over slowly and deliberately, stopping only three inches away." I don't see any thing happening," he gave her a patronizing look.
Freckles returned it. "Wait"
Her left knee suddenly lifted and connected squarely between his legs, catching him so hard that it lifted him an inch off the ground before dropping him. Freckles had no time to enjoy watching him crumple up in pain. His boys immediately attacked, Freckles didn't need to know the number to figure she was about to get her ass kicked and reshaped. She had been outnumbering 3 to 1 before and the outcome had always been the same.
With their leader down for the count, the gang boys didn't quite know what to do after completely knocking the stuffing out of her, so they simply picked up their leader and walked off. Freckles knew he would be furious when he found out that she had been left alive and his other intended victim not touched at all.
The girl, Woodchuck if she remembered right, ran over to help her sit up. The worst part of getting beat up is the first time you sit up afterward. The fear of a broken rib, the pain of bruised muscles and the guaranteed sore butt, always made the process an exciting one.
"Wow, you took that really well. Thanks," Freckles flinched at Woodchucks voice. Was her voice always that squeaky or was this just Freckles lucky day.
"No problem. I've gotten ten times worse from boys who actually know how to fight. Why were they chasin' ya?" Freckles tried to subtlety wiped some blood from her lip but she still saw Woodchuck grimace.
"Some of Rova's boys were not acting in a gentlemanly fashion towards me so I gave them what dey deserved," the girl blushed at her own stupidity. She usually knew better than to start shit with Rover but this one time she had final let her emotions dictate her actions.
"Is Rova da guy who is now unable to have children?" Freckles couldn't help but released a proud chuckle over her work.
"Yeah. He's da leader. There're just a bunch of idiot guys who think there're special 'cause they claimed a cornah ta call their own," the girl informed.
"There're a cornah gang!?" Freckles release a snort of laughter and shook her head "I shoulda saved my energy. So, what's your name Kid?"
"Woodchuck...but my real names Alison,"
"Whoa!" Freckles eye widened at that admission "word to da wise; neva tell anyone your real name, my names Freckles, as far as any one knows anyway," Unthinkingly Freckles, in the newsie fashion, raised her hand, spat in it, and extended it to Woodchuck, who gave it a strange look before doing the same.
From then on they were always together but a partnership was never officially established. Woodchuck simply invited Freckles back to her house, which was the only solid room left in a burnt down apartment building, high class living for a street kid, and Freckles never left. The strange thing about this duo was that, unlike most street kids who partner up, they shared. A person living alone on the streets was a loner, two, a partnership and three, a gang. The gang has to share their goods as a community while a partnership was usually based on the concept that there was safety in numbers and involved no sharing. Freckles and Woodchuck, who had been re-nicknamed Chucks, survived together, sharing whatever loot they got. Chucks was an expert pickpocket and Freckles was as sly as a ghost when it came to swiping from food carts.
Slowly but surely they became a gang. They would run into other girls who were streets kids and either soak them or join together. The gang was getting larger everyday and with that a few problems arose. A large gang of girls or guys will always draw attention to itself and for some reason; outlaw street girls gone wild was a media frenzy. All the papers loved having stories about the female youth becoming delinquents and soon enough all the rich folks in the area were worried about being murdered in their beds by female ruffians.
Freckles, Chucks and the gang had to go legit fast, at the same time they were quickly out growing their home. Freckles easily had the perfect solution. She began to teach the girls everything that Rocks had taught her, from hawking the headlines to sympathy sales. No more street kid techniques, they were serious now and were prepared to do serious damage and Freckles knew exactly who she wanted their first target to be.
In the past there had been many wars and many territories had been gained through hostile takeovers but never in the history of the newsie world had their been a female newsie territory. Freckles, was ready to take the first by any means necessary.
One big war and one major victory had been all it took. Freckles and her gang including her five main officers had made history. They controlled all of the North East shore of Staten Island. They were legendary, they were notorious and for what seemed like a short time, they were happy.
'Hmmmm, here I am, minding my own business, something terrible is gonna happen'