Poppy had a ton of interesting things to say as we walked. I pretty much forgot the stiff bandages and huge mittens that protected my hands from freezing again. I found that I would stare at her, only for a few moments, before I came back to reality. She was great.
"So why are you a newsie, Les?" Poppy asked me as we rounded another corner. "No offense, but you don't seem like the on-the-street type of guy."
I thought back to six years ago. If anyone asks, you should say you're seven. "It started when my father got hurt at his job," I explained. "He was fired, so there was no other way to make money. My brother David and I were both in school, but my father pulled us both out to work until he healed. That's when the strike happened. My father only got worse, though. Once his arm was back together, he started to get sick. ...He died. David went back to school, like he promised, and so did I. I ran away three years ago, and this is what I've been doing ever since."
Poppy waited a moment before speaking. "So you enjoy it?" she asked.
"It's a fine life," I said as I turned to look at her. "I feel so free. I can do whatever I want and nobody has the power to stop me."
"So...you do things as a newsie that you couldn't do at home?"
"Well yeah. I mean, my mother would never let me smoke."
"So you ran away so you could smoke?"
I frowned. "That ain't fair. You got no idea what things were like when I was younger."
"But I do know that you gave up a family for...for this." She took my hand and held it up. I looked down at the ugly mitten. She sighed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up." I suddenly became quite aware that she hadn't moved her hand from mine.
Awkward silence. "So..."
"So..."
I put my hand back down and shoved it in my pocket, noting the disappointment in Poppy's eyes. "Um...how many papes are you sellin' these days?"
We continued to walk. "Sixty or more with a skirt. Forty when I'm 'in disguise.'" She grinned, and then explained, "Sometimes I get annoyed when guys buy papers from me just to they can see the goods, so I borrow Six's clothes and put my hair up. I make less money, but it's good to get a break once in awhile."
I laughed. "So you're a cross-dresser!"
Poppy smiled. "No, I'm not!" she giggled. "I just, you know, sometimes enjoy suspenders and cap more than something like this." She grabbed her skirt with one hand. I then began to notice the detail of her clothing—the pattern on her skirt and the buttons on her coat. I found myself wondering if her mittens were itchy, or if she'd ever kissed a boy.
"It's getting pretty late," Poppy said. We'd been walking in silence for awhile. "Maybe we should turn around and head back. I know Six will want to walk me home."
"There's a girl's house just a few blocks from us," I suggested. "You could stay there. Brooklyn's a long walk on a cold night."
She shook her head. "My friends will worry," she declined. "We're a tight-knit group."
"I know how that goes," I said, nodding.
We got back to the lodging house just as things began to quiet down. The game was over, and I had a feeling that once again, Johnny Slye was a few bucks richer than the rest of us.
"I'd like to see you again," Poppy said suddenly.
I was taken aback. "Oh..." I said. My heard was pounding out of my chest. "Okay...um...you know where to find me."
She smiled a bit. "Thanks for the walk." A soft kiss on the cheek was all I got, and then she quickly turned away and ran towards Six, who was waiting for her and laughing.
I took a moment to recover. "Uh...thanks for the, uh, buttoning my coat..." She was already gone, and I felt pretty damn stupid.
Johnny was behind me. I knew because I could hear him laughing. "So, you found yourself a girl, huh Les?"
"Shut it, Johnny," I muttered as I turned around and walked past him. I was heading up the stairs when I realized he was following me.
"Hey Les, why didn't you ever tell me you had a little sister?" he asked me.
"Because I don't have a little sister, that's why." I rolled my eyes. "Where do you come up with this stuff?"
"Well I guess it might be because your cousin came to drop your little sister off," Johnny said. We were at the top of the stairs, and I was thoroughly confused. "She's sleeping in your bed. The guy told me to give you this."
Johnny pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket, which I took. Realization hit me like a fist to the face. "Say...what did this cousin of mine look like?" I asked.
"He was real dirty, blonde hair, eyepatch--"
"Oh God."
I ran into the bunkroom to find that my suspicions were correct. There, asleep in my bed, was Blink's daughter.
Nothing made sense to me. "But...but how did he know I was here?" I asked myself aloud. "What the hell is he thinking?" I turned to Johnny. "What did he say to you?"
Johnny shrugged. "Just that he was leaving town and wanted you to take care of your sister for him." My mouth hung open. "I know, I thought it was weird too. You would think that your sister would live with your mom, not your cousin."
"Johnny, I don't have any cousins!" I yelled before I remembered that Rosemarie or whatever her name was was asleep. Lowering my voice, I continued, "Not any who are older than me, anyways. I know that guy...he was friends with my brother. This is his daughter! What the hell am I supposed to do?"
"How am I supposed to know?" Johnny asked. "I'm going to sleep. The bum wrote you a damn letter. Maybe you should consult that before you get all crazy."
I was still holding the paper. Johnny walked past me. I took a few deep breaths, trying to make sense of everything. It wasn't until I'd calmed down a bit before I unfolded the paper and read what Blink had written.
Les—
Don't be angry. Rosemary's a real sweet kid, I promise. She don't talk much, she don't have to eat much. Just please don't turn her over to one of those places for kids with dead parents. I was there until I was fourteen and it was Hell. She deserves better. Her mom would have wanted this. I'm not coming back. Tell her I love her.
—Blink
I found myself repeating the words "Oh God" at least twenty times before somebody put a hand on my shoulder. "You all right, Les?"
"No, go away, oh God...oh God."
I slept on the floor that night.
Buttons—Thanks so much for all your reviews! You've been encouraging me to keep writing, and I don't think you know that Thanks a bunch, you're really great!
Repeat—Haha, I love flashbacks! They're always the best/worst part of movies, so that's why I put them in my stories!
Cricket—Les without fingers would be like a day without sunshine, or ice cream without jimmies. And I maintain that Spot was ganged up on. Only makes sense, right? ...Right?
