The "grand tour" served to wash away the fear and uncertainty of it
all, that she'd had ever since she woke up in the strange place. She was
still a bit on her guard, but found herself laughing with these freckled,
tanned-faces, bright-toothed boys in men's bodies. They guffawed. They
swore. They shared spitshakes. And they treated her like one of them.
The House was a comfortable, well lived-in home to nearly two hundred boys. Some lived there permanently; others rented out rooms when they were in financial aid, or in the case of an emergency. Her first facet of the tour had been the attic, a cozy, if dusty, area of the building which consisted of much of the smoking, gambling, wine-drinking, smuggling, and other forms of debauchery present in the House.
"It's the place the area health inspectors never check," a tall, skinny, pale-skinned, and fair-haired young man named Dutchy said, readjusting his vest.
"Guaranteeing us a free place to indulge in life's simple pleasures," piped up another, Racetrack, who was of moderate height. He had sharp, perceptive brown eyes, which were almost black, and brown hair, slicked back away from his face. His face was very chiseled and Grecian, but his features were weathered and tan from the sun. He held a cigar between his index and middle finger, and a gold-plated pocket watch was in the palm of his other hand.
They went down to the top floor, past Jo's room, and onto her fellow floor mates- Swifty, Skittery, Specs, Kid Blink, and Mush. Each room was plain and comfortable, containing a bed, desk, bathroom, dresser, trashcan, and window overlooking the city. All the boys had their own trappings hanging from the wall and resting on the desks. She was introduced to each of the boys- newsies, as were most of the people boarding here.
"You're not the only girl here," Kid Blink said. He had a patch over his eye. (Mush later told her that it's been there ever since they met him. "It was an accident when he was young," he told her. "From what?" she asked, curiously. "You don't want to know," Mush had assured her, grimacing.)
"Yeah, Madeleine, Kate, and Andie room here part of the week. They're seamstresses who sometimes have to go on house calls to receive payment. Lennie works and lives in Mid Town, but comes over to drop off food and other things. Sarah doesn't room here, either," Skittery said.
"Sarah Jacobs lives with her parents and brothers, David and Les," another newsie (she learned later his name was Snoddy) said from behind them. "Her brothers are here a lot, too. So she's kind of like family."
"David and Les are our boys. They should be here, if not you can always count on them for dinner," Specs said. "Sarah's left for North Carolina. She'll be back, though."
"Dinner starts in about a half-hour, so come when you hear the dinner call," Crutchy said, and he hobbled away. Jo wondered what he meant by 'dinner call', then walked up to her room, and fell into bed, sighing. She had a bed, food, a place to stay, and new friends- all in less than twenty- four hours. Her mind drifted, and she forced herself to relay thoughts of home to the back of her mind... Concord seemed far away. And she was getting used to it.
She bathed quickly, let her hair down and placed it into a wavy, loose half- ponytail, and dressed. Embracing the casual style of her roommates, she wore a simple blue summer frock tied in the back. It was quite humid out, and so she decided to go down barefoot.
After about fifteen minutes, she heard the shrill-sounding voice of one of the boys echo up from the foyer. "Newsies, newsies, get that lead outta your pants! Dinner time, boys! Grab a seat! Newsies, newsies! Get a move on! Dinner!" She smirked. Dinner call indeed.
The mess hall and kitchen was larger than she had thought it would be. A fireplace was situated at the south end, where she stood. Antler décor adorned the wall. In the center of the wood floor was a large, long table with benches, where nearly one hundred rowdy boys had begun to be seated. On the table, plates of food were being loaded out. On the north end of the room was a quaint kitchen, pots and pans galore. An elderly woman with a tray of food walked in. She was tall and slim, with high cheekbones and clear blue eyes. Her hair was done up in a bun, and she was dressed in plain white and a gray apron.
"Boys! Boys! Boys! Sit down, sit down, all of you!" she said loudly, in her New York brogue. Nearly everyone had flocked around the table and began to sit down, and so Jo looked very conspicuous. The woman looked up, and her stern eyes glazed over into warmth. She laid the tray down and walked over.
"Oh, you must be Josephine," the woman said kindly.
"Jo, yes. Are you the cook?" she inquired politely, still mentally wondering where she was to sit. The tables looked full.
"Ha! I try not to be," the lady replied gaily. "Many of the boys do their own cooking. I just set the table," she said, winking. "I'm Julia. I take care of some of the cleaning, as well. I heard we had a new resident today, from one of the boys. It's nice to see another girl around the place, honestly. Maybe you can calm 'em down?" Julia said, tongue-in-cheek. Jo smiled.
"I'll try. I won't be very successful, I don't think."
"Well, it was nice to meet you, Jos-, I mean, Jo. Here, I'll find you a seat," she said, taking Jo's hand and walking over to the table. "Hey, gentlemen, can any of you make room?" she said above the uproar of the noise in the hall.
Several heads turned, and Jo was assaulted by the gazes of nearly thirty young men. Their eyes were clear and seemed to be of every color, glittering in the dim light of the mess hall. They watched her, inspecting her, some noticing her for the first time. She suddenly felt very naked, but tried to hold her composure and look past their scrutiny. Julia scanned the crowd of silent faces, as no one made a start to accommodate Jo's company. Finally Julia sighed and lifted her arm, pointing at someone.
"Cowboy! You gonna give this girl a seat or what?" she asked, her voice booming across the hall. Cowboy, Jo thought, apprehensive and at the same time, intrigued. There was a rustle of activity near the left side of the table, and then a tall, striking young man, with a tan complexion and hazel eyes stood forward and pushed his hair back. He was dressed simply, in pocketed olive green trousers (holes, patches, and all) and a beige shirt, with the sleeves rolled up, suspenders dangling next to his legs. He slouched over to one side.
"Sure thing," he replied, his eyes shifting over to Jo. His voice was low and smooth, clear and unwavering, yet self-guarded. His gaze was neither inappropriate nor indifferent. His eyes wandered the soft curves of her face and the crook of her nose. Gray met brown as their eyes locked briefly. Then he pushed back the creeping sleeve on his left arm and held out his right hand for a shake. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, like he had a private joke she could only dream he would share with her.
"Jack Kelly," he said in greeting. He swallowed and quirked his nose.
"Jo March," she said. His grasp was warm, firm, and strong. They shook hands, and then Jack stepped back and jerked his head to the side.
"Seat's this way. You hungry?" he asked. Jo nodded, following him to the left side of the table, where several small children had begun swiping food from the table.
"Famished. Is there good food here?" Jo asked. "I feel like I haven't eaten in years."
"The best," Jack replied assuredly. He was rough-around-the-edges, but moved with ease. There was a mystery in him, though- in his eyes- and Jo loved mysteries.
Julia walked back into the mess hall. People had begun settling down and getting themselves seated. Everyone's plates were almost filled up, and there were only a few requests at the ends for a particular kind of food. Julia walked to the end of the table, and all of the boys bent their heads down, and closed their eyes, their hands folded politely. Jo figured this was tradition, and prepared for a lengthy prayer to their Lord for the food. The boys quieted down.
Suddenly Julia hollered, "GRACE!" and everyone muttered, in a way that reminded Jo of a tribal war chant, "Grace!" and started shoveling their food. Jo opened her eyes and laughed in bewilderment. Jack turned to her, but made no response.
He heard her voice echo off the walls of the foyer, then her quick footsteps as she skipped up the stairs and to her room, down the hall. He waited for the door to slam shut, but it didn't. He went back to his game of solitaire. He placed the cards down swiftly, and soon he discovered he'd lost again. Unbelievable, he couldn't even win against himself. And that's what counted, right? It was a perfect example of his odds.
Jack usually spent the youngest part of the night out on the scaffolding, watching the city. It gave him peace of mind. Giving up on cards, he turned the knob to his door and opened it slightly, listening for any stray noise down the hall. There was the undercurrent of din from boys who were still up, and the grandfather clock in the foyer announcing it was nearly one o'clock. Other than that, it was silent. His eyes scanned the corridor, and rested on Jo's door. He regarded it, the smooth brown expanse of the wood, and was instantly attracted to the small crack of the door left ajar.
Jack Kelly considered her an interesting girl. She looked about twenty, twenty-two years of age, and pretty, with a mane of brown hair that tumbled down her shoulder. He liked her, by no deciding of his own. Jo March had a mind of her own. There had been something sweetly youthful and kindred about that, yet he was instantly intimidated by her, and this irritated him. She was smart. Whatever she said came from some natural, pure place, which only made it more difficult for a smartass like him to tolerate her- and resist liking her.
Experimentally, he took a step into the corridor, then down the hall. He stepped close, careful to make no noise, then looked in her room. She was clad in a white summer nightgown, which rested off the shoulder, but was cooler than a nightgown or bathrobe, though it didn't reveal much except for her arms, ankles, neck, and shoulder blades.
She paced around the room, apparently lost in thought. There was something off about her behavior. It was something she hadn't been able to hide all night, and it was the first thing Jack noticed about her when their eyes met. Not her beauty, nor her willpower, nor her intelligence. Or the fact that she watched him curiously during dinner. It was that area of moody, cautious blue-gray feeling that restrained her from saying too much, and which said in itself that there was more to her than met the eye.
A/N: Hey everyone! Thanks for reviewing! BTW, I'm also known around here as Magdalena Amaretto Watson, so if you see that name popping up, it's just moi! Hehe! Anyways, thanks for reading. This story has been in the works for about two years now, no joke. I've just been editing and re-editing and writing gradually over this time. I know it sounds kind of strange, the concept I mean, but I just got this crazy idea one day: what if Jo and Jack met? And it grew from there. So enjoy! I'll update as soon as I can.
The House was a comfortable, well lived-in home to nearly two hundred boys. Some lived there permanently; others rented out rooms when they were in financial aid, or in the case of an emergency. Her first facet of the tour had been the attic, a cozy, if dusty, area of the building which consisted of much of the smoking, gambling, wine-drinking, smuggling, and other forms of debauchery present in the House.
"It's the place the area health inspectors never check," a tall, skinny, pale-skinned, and fair-haired young man named Dutchy said, readjusting his vest.
"Guaranteeing us a free place to indulge in life's simple pleasures," piped up another, Racetrack, who was of moderate height. He had sharp, perceptive brown eyes, which were almost black, and brown hair, slicked back away from his face. His face was very chiseled and Grecian, but his features were weathered and tan from the sun. He held a cigar between his index and middle finger, and a gold-plated pocket watch was in the palm of his other hand.
They went down to the top floor, past Jo's room, and onto her fellow floor mates- Swifty, Skittery, Specs, Kid Blink, and Mush. Each room was plain and comfortable, containing a bed, desk, bathroom, dresser, trashcan, and window overlooking the city. All the boys had their own trappings hanging from the wall and resting on the desks. She was introduced to each of the boys- newsies, as were most of the people boarding here.
"You're not the only girl here," Kid Blink said. He had a patch over his eye. (Mush later told her that it's been there ever since they met him. "It was an accident when he was young," he told her. "From what?" she asked, curiously. "You don't want to know," Mush had assured her, grimacing.)
"Yeah, Madeleine, Kate, and Andie room here part of the week. They're seamstresses who sometimes have to go on house calls to receive payment. Lennie works and lives in Mid Town, but comes over to drop off food and other things. Sarah doesn't room here, either," Skittery said.
"Sarah Jacobs lives with her parents and brothers, David and Les," another newsie (she learned later his name was Snoddy) said from behind them. "Her brothers are here a lot, too. So she's kind of like family."
"David and Les are our boys. They should be here, if not you can always count on them for dinner," Specs said. "Sarah's left for North Carolina. She'll be back, though."
"Dinner starts in about a half-hour, so come when you hear the dinner call," Crutchy said, and he hobbled away. Jo wondered what he meant by 'dinner call', then walked up to her room, and fell into bed, sighing. She had a bed, food, a place to stay, and new friends- all in less than twenty- four hours. Her mind drifted, and she forced herself to relay thoughts of home to the back of her mind... Concord seemed far away. And she was getting used to it.
She bathed quickly, let her hair down and placed it into a wavy, loose half- ponytail, and dressed. Embracing the casual style of her roommates, she wore a simple blue summer frock tied in the back. It was quite humid out, and so she decided to go down barefoot.
After about fifteen minutes, she heard the shrill-sounding voice of one of the boys echo up from the foyer. "Newsies, newsies, get that lead outta your pants! Dinner time, boys! Grab a seat! Newsies, newsies! Get a move on! Dinner!" She smirked. Dinner call indeed.
The mess hall and kitchen was larger than she had thought it would be. A fireplace was situated at the south end, where she stood. Antler décor adorned the wall. In the center of the wood floor was a large, long table with benches, where nearly one hundred rowdy boys had begun to be seated. On the table, plates of food were being loaded out. On the north end of the room was a quaint kitchen, pots and pans galore. An elderly woman with a tray of food walked in. She was tall and slim, with high cheekbones and clear blue eyes. Her hair was done up in a bun, and she was dressed in plain white and a gray apron.
"Boys! Boys! Boys! Sit down, sit down, all of you!" she said loudly, in her New York brogue. Nearly everyone had flocked around the table and began to sit down, and so Jo looked very conspicuous. The woman looked up, and her stern eyes glazed over into warmth. She laid the tray down and walked over.
"Oh, you must be Josephine," the woman said kindly.
"Jo, yes. Are you the cook?" she inquired politely, still mentally wondering where she was to sit. The tables looked full.
"Ha! I try not to be," the lady replied gaily. "Many of the boys do their own cooking. I just set the table," she said, winking. "I'm Julia. I take care of some of the cleaning, as well. I heard we had a new resident today, from one of the boys. It's nice to see another girl around the place, honestly. Maybe you can calm 'em down?" Julia said, tongue-in-cheek. Jo smiled.
"I'll try. I won't be very successful, I don't think."
"Well, it was nice to meet you, Jos-, I mean, Jo. Here, I'll find you a seat," she said, taking Jo's hand and walking over to the table. "Hey, gentlemen, can any of you make room?" she said above the uproar of the noise in the hall.
Several heads turned, and Jo was assaulted by the gazes of nearly thirty young men. Their eyes were clear and seemed to be of every color, glittering in the dim light of the mess hall. They watched her, inspecting her, some noticing her for the first time. She suddenly felt very naked, but tried to hold her composure and look past their scrutiny. Julia scanned the crowd of silent faces, as no one made a start to accommodate Jo's company. Finally Julia sighed and lifted her arm, pointing at someone.
"Cowboy! You gonna give this girl a seat or what?" she asked, her voice booming across the hall. Cowboy, Jo thought, apprehensive and at the same time, intrigued. There was a rustle of activity near the left side of the table, and then a tall, striking young man, with a tan complexion and hazel eyes stood forward and pushed his hair back. He was dressed simply, in pocketed olive green trousers (holes, patches, and all) and a beige shirt, with the sleeves rolled up, suspenders dangling next to his legs. He slouched over to one side.
"Sure thing," he replied, his eyes shifting over to Jo. His voice was low and smooth, clear and unwavering, yet self-guarded. His gaze was neither inappropriate nor indifferent. His eyes wandered the soft curves of her face and the crook of her nose. Gray met brown as their eyes locked briefly. Then he pushed back the creeping sleeve on his left arm and held out his right hand for a shake. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, like he had a private joke she could only dream he would share with her.
"Jack Kelly," he said in greeting. He swallowed and quirked his nose.
"Jo March," she said. His grasp was warm, firm, and strong. They shook hands, and then Jack stepped back and jerked his head to the side.
"Seat's this way. You hungry?" he asked. Jo nodded, following him to the left side of the table, where several small children had begun swiping food from the table.
"Famished. Is there good food here?" Jo asked. "I feel like I haven't eaten in years."
"The best," Jack replied assuredly. He was rough-around-the-edges, but moved with ease. There was a mystery in him, though- in his eyes- and Jo loved mysteries.
Julia walked back into the mess hall. People had begun settling down and getting themselves seated. Everyone's plates were almost filled up, and there were only a few requests at the ends for a particular kind of food. Julia walked to the end of the table, and all of the boys bent their heads down, and closed their eyes, their hands folded politely. Jo figured this was tradition, and prepared for a lengthy prayer to their Lord for the food. The boys quieted down.
Suddenly Julia hollered, "GRACE!" and everyone muttered, in a way that reminded Jo of a tribal war chant, "Grace!" and started shoveling their food. Jo opened her eyes and laughed in bewilderment. Jack turned to her, but made no response.
He heard her voice echo off the walls of the foyer, then her quick footsteps as she skipped up the stairs and to her room, down the hall. He waited for the door to slam shut, but it didn't. He went back to his game of solitaire. He placed the cards down swiftly, and soon he discovered he'd lost again. Unbelievable, he couldn't even win against himself. And that's what counted, right? It was a perfect example of his odds.
Jack usually spent the youngest part of the night out on the scaffolding, watching the city. It gave him peace of mind. Giving up on cards, he turned the knob to his door and opened it slightly, listening for any stray noise down the hall. There was the undercurrent of din from boys who were still up, and the grandfather clock in the foyer announcing it was nearly one o'clock. Other than that, it was silent. His eyes scanned the corridor, and rested on Jo's door. He regarded it, the smooth brown expanse of the wood, and was instantly attracted to the small crack of the door left ajar.
Jack Kelly considered her an interesting girl. She looked about twenty, twenty-two years of age, and pretty, with a mane of brown hair that tumbled down her shoulder. He liked her, by no deciding of his own. Jo March had a mind of her own. There had been something sweetly youthful and kindred about that, yet he was instantly intimidated by her, and this irritated him. She was smart. Whatever she said came from some natural, pure place, which only made it more difficult for a smartass like him to tolerate her- and resist liking her.
Experimentally, he took a step into the corridor, then down the hall. He stepped close, careful to make no noise, then looked in her room. She was clad in a white summer nightgown, which rested off the shoulder, but was cooler than a nightgown or bathrobe, though it didn't reveal much except for her arms, ankles, neck, and shoulder blades.
She paced around the room, apparently lost in thought. There was something off about her behavior. It was something she hadn't been able to hide all night, and it was the first thing Jack noticed about her when their eyes met. Not her beauty, nor her willpower, nor her intelligence. Or the fact that she watched him curiously during dinner. It was that area of moody, cautious blue-gray feeling that restrained her from saying too much, and which said in itself that there was more to her than met the eye.
A/N: Hey everyone! Thanks for reviewing! BTW, I'm also known around here as Magdalena Amaretto Watson, so if you see that name popping up, it's just moi! Hehe! Anyways, thanks for reading. This story has been in the works for about two years now, no joke. I've just been editing and re-editing and writing gradually over this time. I know it sounds kind of strange, the concept I mean, but I just got this crazy idea one day: what if Jo and Jack met? And it grew from there. So enjoy! I'll update as soon as I can.