Jo could hear the New York City noise bustling outside her window, and chided herself on her late wake. The rest of the city had been up for hours. And the House, she thought, the corner of her mouth twitching. She had been here a week already. She heard the loud, unruly laughter and voices of the rest of her floor mates. She put on her robe, and closed the door, messing with her hair all the while. She hadn't missed breakfast, but it seemed everyone was taking their orders to go. She followed the sound of laughter and conversation outside.
Everyone was gathered in the back entrance of the kitchen, rather than in the mess hall), which lead out to an alley that was ushered from the main road. The sunlight saturated every inch of the city. The boys were smoking, talking, laughing, eating, and playing just outside the door, just adjacent to a small park the rested in the cul-de-sac of the alleyway. Trees with green leaves, tinted gold-yellow with summer's paintbrush swayed in the gentle breeze.
The alleyway was home to several people in the neighborhood. People there hung their laundry out to dry on string that went from one window to another. The laundry hung just above the trees, framing this pretty picture. Boxes and crates were stacked high just next to the kitchen door. The boys clutched their money and cigarettes, partaking in impromptu games of poker and rummy after their meal, just before the second heat of their newspaper selling.
"You mean I missed the first selling?" Jo asked Snitch in disbelief. He shrugged and grinned.
"All the big shots come out early. If you want to catch them, you have to be there. Some of them oblige. Most don't. We still rely on that 'some', though. Just in case..." He took a big chomp of a biscuit he was holding. Jo took a sip of her apple juice.
"Just in case of what?" she asked, her brow furrowing. Snitch shot her a look. She chose to ignore it. Her interest was piqued.
"Let's just say it wouldn't be pretty for us poor kids if we didn't sell," he said. There was something in his hazel glare this time. It was something of fear, a warning, a threat. Masked by uncertainty. She blinked. She watched Snitch curiously as he turned to take another bite, then joined Racetrack teach the little ones the difference between a flush and a full house.
"Don't mind Snitch," a calm voice assured her from her left. She turned, still eating. It was David. He had a small croissant in his left hand, and a biscuit lathered with butter in his right. He seemed confused as to which one he should choose to eat first. The butter-topped biscuit won out, and he sunk his teeth into it.
"I don't," Jo said.
"Where will you go after this. After you get a job, and find something stable?"
"I guess I haven't really thought it out that far," she said. David grinned.
"You should. You remind me of me, many years ago. My family and I moved here from Connecticut. We had every intention of going back. We ended up staying here. We lived right around the corner. My parents loved it here, they had stable jobs, friends, everything. Then my dad got injured in a factory accident, so they fired him. Sarah, Les, and I had to work on our own. We had to pay for ourselves and our family. That's when we met Jack and the newsies."
Jo's ears pricked up at the mention of Jack. He wasn't out there with the rest of them, eating and hanging around.
"Where's Jack now?" Jo asked.
"Still selling, probably. He's the most extensive of all of us."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, a lot of us just stay in one area, but Jack covers more ground. That's how he knows the city so well. And he's got, you know, responsibilities and things that keep him busy," David replied. Jo scrunched up her nose, still puzzled.
"Responsibilities?" she wondered out loud. David looked at her awhile before answering.
"He keeps to himself a lot. A lot more than he used to..." he trailed off. They sat in silence for awhile, before Jo spoke again.
"Where are they now, your parents?" Jo asked quietly, changing the subject.
"They're still here. We do the best we can for them. We go to see them every few days or so," he said. He seemed a bit perturbed by this. He apparently wished he could do more for them. "The point I was trying to make earlier, when I said that you reminded me of myself when I was younger... I think you should think about why it is that you ran."
"From Concord. Do you want to know why I came here?" she asked skeptically.
"Ah, not until you do. I have to get ready to go back out. Have a good morning, Jo," David said suddenly, hopping off the crate he was sitting on, and walked back into the kitchen.
"...and that's the first thing you gotta learn, headlines don't sell papes, newsies sell papes," David said to Jo. She got the distinct feeling that this was a common phrase, because everyone around her nodded their heads emphatically and repeated this under their breath.
Another week had passed, with Jo regularly observing the newsies' routes about the city.
"All right. But...I'm not actually going to sell with you guys, right? Not that I didn't appreciate your little paper-selling tutorial," she said. David fixed her a smug smile.
"You're not scared, Jo, are you?" he asked. Les snickered, and Mush smiled. Jo's eyes widened in horror.
"What? No," she protested defiantly. "But I'm just not a newsie!" she objected.
"You said you needed a job," Boots reasoned with a twinkle in his eye. She shot him a death look, and David glanced back at her.
"Perfect, then. Here, take ten of my papes. Then, just remember, you gotta win them over. It's not about the headlines, it's about the way you sell," David said.
"But, David-"she said as he shoved a small stack of newspapers into her hands. "I can't do this alone! Can't I just watch you guys?" she asked weakly.
"Jo, you'll be fine," Specs said. "If you run into trouble, just use your imagination. We don't always get the satisfaction of getting good headlines. But forget that. Just try to sell as many as you can," he said. Jo narrowed her eyes a bit. It was all coming into focus.
"What are you saying? You mean, make up a headline?" she asked. This was unbelievable. What if the person caught her? Was the coin she earned worth it? A bunch of the newsies that she'd walked out onto the street with had already dispersed, announcing everything out-of-the-ordinary as loudly as they could, carrying the banner high above their heads. Jo turned back to Specs, Boots, David, and Les, giving them each accusing glances. "Lying isn't exactly one of my favorite pastimes."
"It ain't lying; it's just improving the truth a little."
She turned.
Clear, impossibly beautiful, complex hazel eyes stared back at her. She sighed helplessly, drowning in something incomprehensible. Jack was approaching from amidst the hustle and bustle of the street, a red bandanna tied around his neck. He swiped a hand over his brow, which had been glistening with sweat. He was dressed simply in tan shirt, cuffs rolled up to his elbow, over a white shirt underneath, and khaki slacks. A small stock of newspapers was at his side. He was careless and attitude-ridden, but his presence did something severe to her insides. She fixed her game face on and answered him.
"Cute euphemism," she said. "I'm not lying for money. I'm not that desperate," she said stiffly. It was most likely more antagonistic a comment than she meant to say.
"Listen, Miss High and Mighty, some of us don't have that luxury. Thanks for rubbing it in our faces," Jack retorted, raking a hand through his hair.
He silently counted the number of papers he had left, and blew hot air out through his mouth. The heat was getting to him. He'd been up since dawn, and it had been a hot morning. The long-mile circuit route from Brooklyn, to Queens, not including the "appointment" he made on Kingfisher's behalf, had made him tired and irritated, and he still had twenty papers left to sell. It didn't help that the walking encyclopedia had decided to make her appearance just then.
Jo felt a heat beneath her eyelids. "Listen," she retorted, then stopped herself. She saw the guys watch her and Jack's lightning exchange with some interest. "I'll get out of your way," she said quickly, descending off the curb into the crowded streets. Venders were selling produce across from her. It felt good to be outside, even though the heat was stifling.
Jo crossed into the side street, trailing away to the end of the large piazza, spotting people who looked like they'd want a newspaper. All the while her brain was actively frenetic. Soon she'd make a plan to get a job, and move out. The more time she spent at the Lodging House, the more attached she'd become to relying on others. She didn't need them, she tried to convince herself. There was opportunity everywhere. She just had to open her eyes to it. She bucked up her courage, and cleared her throat.
"Newspapers! Newspapers! Hot off the presses, get 'em now!"