My name is Blue I have lived in New York my whole life. But I f I have, then why don't I live at home with my family? Truth is I can't go back or I'd get a life worse than a Newsies life.
8 years ago
"BLUE!" my father called from his sitting room. I walked in a 9 years of age, hyper and ready for almost anything.
"Do you want to play a game?" my father asked.
"Yeah!" I yelped.
"Alright, the game is maid, you are the maid, I am the master, the master commands you to get him a bottle of beer," My father instructed his words already slurred from having more than enough beer already. I groaned.
"Aw, pop, this game isn't fun!" I whined. My Father leapt at me and grabbed me by the hair, pulling me off the ground.
"Does the maid want the master to get mad?!" He yelled in my ear. I whimpered.
"Then get me a GODDAMN beer!" He yelled and threw me to the ground. I ran from the room, but I never did get my father that beer he wanted so badly. I ran up the stairs and bumped into a servant who was carrying a tray. She dropped it, all its contents shattering.
"Here let me help," I said bending to help the servant, forgetting my father and the beer.
"Blue!" my mother shrieked. "Helping a servant?! Ugh! Go to your room!"
"What's my real name," I asked randomly with sudden interest.
"You don't deserve to know it," She sneered and slapped me across the face. "Now," she said taking a deep breath, calming herself down like nothing had just happened. "Off to your room." I ran to my room and slammed the door. It shook the room and a vase fell of my dresser, breaking into one thousand pieces. At once, a different servant rushed in and started cleaning.
"No I got-"I started but then I realized. I don't belong here.
I was stained with a role in a day not my ownThat night I climbed out of my window and wandered the streets of Brooklyn. I had never done it before, but hey, there was always a first time for every thing. Not looking or knowing where I was going, I bumped- smack into a boy. We both fell to the ground, but he jumped up first, offering his hand to help me up.
"'Ello, I's Slick-Shootah, and to whom to I's owe deh honah?" He said with a mock bow.
"I'm Blue, nice to meet you," I said and extended a hand for him to shake. He ignored my hand and walked around me in circles.
"Blue, eh? Shoaly a goil of yoah class has a propah name?" He inquired. He turned to walk down the street, motioning for me to follow.
"My parents wont tell me," I explained. Slick-Shooter nodded and changed the subject.
"Lissen, Blue, How long have ya lived in Brooklyn foah?" He asked.
"Forever," I answered.
"How well do you's tink you's know da place?" He asked with a smile. And all though I had lived in Brooklyn for nine years, I got the grand tour that night.
As you walked into my life you showed what needed to be shown.
At about Midnight we stopped in front of my house.
"This is where I live," I sighed.
"Oh den I guess you's outta be goin," Slick-shooter said quietly.
"Uhm, could you show me where you first?" I asked hesitantly.
"Shoah," He smiled. We walked for a couple blocks and stopped in front of a building that said 'Brooklyn Newsboys Lodging House'.
"Newsboys... those kids who sell Newspapers on the streets?" I asked.
"Yep," Slick-Shooter smiled proudly.
"You's hoid of us?" he asked with a surprised look on his face.
"I watch them sell from my window... but they look at LEAST 14 years old! Your hardly 10! That can't be politically correct. Not right!"
"Right?" He said tilting his head to the side. "Well that all depends on how you look at it doesn't it?"
I always knew what was right, just didn't know that I might, peal away and choose to see with such a different sight.
"Can you walk me home? I don't wanna go alone," I stuttered.
"Shoah," Slick-Shooter said smiling. Once again we were in front of my house.
"Slick, I wanna see you again," I said hesitantly.
"See me tomorrow, den. 6:00 in da evenin. At da docks," He smiled and kissed my hand good bye. Quite the charmer and gentleman for being only 10 years old. I climbed up the terrace to my window. I fell onto my bed and fell into dreams of my unknown future.
The next day father forced me into another game of Maid. He kicked me when I was down, this time. Literally. My mother, able to throw a good punch, gave me a black eye. But I was determined to make it to 6:00. I climbed out my window and ran all the way to the docks. I stopped, leaning against a post to catch my breath. A tap on the shoulder caused me to shriek and spin around to see Slick-Shooter standing there smiling. His smile faded when he saw my face.
"What happened to you's?" he asked, reaching out to touch the bruise around my eye. I winced and pulled back.
"Parents," I said simply.
"I know dat feelin," he smiled weakly. He grabbed my hand and sat me down on the edge of the docks, our feet dangling over the water.
"Watch," he said pointing to the horizon. When the sun dipped into the water the sky exploded with colors.
"Twilight," Slick-Shooter whispered.
"Beautiful," I sighed. I spotted a color and pointed it out to Slick.
"It's like powder mixed with royal blue, baby blue, gray blue and lavender," I explained.
"It matches," He said simply.
"Matches what?" I asked.
"You're eyes. Dats probably why yoah parents call you's Blue," He said. I smiled and watched the Twilight.
And I will never see the sky the same way and I will learn to say good bye to yesterday and I will never cease to fly if held down and I will always reach too high cause I've seen, I've seen twilight.
Slick-shooter walked me home again, and before I left him he turned to me.
"Blue, from dah way yoah parents treat you's, and what you's told me dey done, you's cant live wit dem foah much longah," Slick said, worried.
"I don't know what to do though," I sighed.
"Run away... become a Newsie?" he suggested. "You would be dah foist goil, but dat shouldn't stop ya."
"I'll think about it," I sighed and smiled at Slick. I hugged him, wincing at the pain in my bruised ribs. Again I climbed through my window, but instead of going to sleep, I went down stairs.
"BLUE!" my mother and father called at the same time. I walked into the room and saw them standing in front of the fireplace.
"Blue, we finally decided," my father said proudly.
"In two weeks we're sending you to boarding school!" my mother said happily.
"But... I don't want to..." I said simply.
"So?" My mother's smile flickered.
"Don't you care? Don't you give a damn what I want?!" I asked shrilly.
"How dare you speak to us in such a manner," My father bellowed.
Never cared never wanted never sought to see what flaunted.
He grabbed a fire stoker and whacked me across the head, sending me sprawling across the floor. Colors around the room flashed and spun oddly as warm blood surrounded my head. Wham. Wham. Wham. Kicks to the stomach and ribs. I could hardly feel them but they were enough to send me into unconsciousness.
"By the way, we don't care," My mother, cackled. It was the last thing I heard before I slipped from the world of reality.
I woke up in my bed, a servant patting my wrapped head with a cold wet washcloth.
"They do this for a reason you know," she told me. "Keep you in you're place. Mmhmmm...."
So on purpose so in my face couldn't see beyond my own place.
All day, night, and through the next morning I didn't leave my room. Servants checked on me periodically and my mother even came in once, but when she saw the state I was in she slapped me across the face and left my room. I kept thinking of Slick-Shooter and how good friends we had come to be over the past two weeks. I didn't want to leave the only friend I had behind.
And it was so easy not to behold what I could hold.
That night I still didn't have enough strength to climb down my window. I used the front door. I staggered through the streets until I came to the Brooklyn Newsboys Lodging House. Slick-Shooter was standing outside, smoking. When he saw me he dropped his cigarette and ran to me. I collapsed into his arms.
"Blue?" He asked. I sobbed into his shirt and told him what happened.
"You's don't have to go," He said hugging me tightly. "You's can change yoah fate. You choose, here or there," He whispered in my ear.
"I wanna stay here," I sobbed.
But you taught me I could change what ever came within these shallow days.
"Den you's need to run away. You's can come live at dah lodgin house, I'm shoah once Charles hears yoah situation he'll let you stay," Slick-Shooter rambled. I nodded.
"Alright I'll do it. When though?" I asked.
"Tomorrow at 6:00, meet me here, and you's'll become a Newsie," Slick said, nodding. I went back home and slept for the first time in two days.
That evening I took a knife from the kitchen and ran to the bathroom. I pulled a lock of hair in front of my face and sawed it off. I watched it float to the floor, ten inches of hair, slowly dying. I looked up at myself in the mirror.
"Well," I sighed. "It's too late to stop now." I pulled another lock of hair in front of my face and hacked at it with the knife.
I threw my old hair out and walked out of the bathroom. I looked at the clock and it read 5:45. I dashed downstairs and out the door, not caring who saw me because they would never see me again. I stopped running in front of the lodging house, breathing hard.
"Blue..." I heard Slick-Shooter's voice from around the back of the building. I walked towards the voice to find Slick-Shooter leaning against the back of the lodging house, smoking. When he saw me his mouth dropped and so did his cigarette.
"Yoah hair!" he exclaimed. "Wheah did it go?"
"I decided it was a dangerous hazard and hacked it all off," I explained waving an invisible knife through the air. Slick-Shooter smiled.
"Looks good on ya," he winked.
"So I can stay?" I asked.
"Yeah," Slick answered and the glow of twilight washed over his face.
I will never see the sky the same way and I will learn to say good bye to yesterday and I will never cease to fly if held down and I will always reach too high, cause I've seen, I've seen...
Slick took me upstairs and introduced me to the other newsies. The oldest was a boy named Eye, at 17, and Slick-Shooter even had a twin brother named Spot. Charles had cleared out his office for me to stay in so I wouldn't be sleeping in the same room as rowdy boys.
The next day Slick and Spot showed me how to sell papers and work up an act so I would sell easier. They also taught me how to changed headlines into something more interesting and Buy-able. I was really good at that.
After selling all the Newsies would get together and eat at a place called Anderson's and gamble away their sellings. Slick-Shooter and I sat up on the roof, watching the sunset.
"Yanno, bein' a Newsie ain't as bad as it seems, but it's not as easy as it looks, either," I said. Slick-Shooter smiled and nodded.
"Not all things are as they seem," he sighed. The sun dipped behind a church, making the stained glass windows sparkle.
As the sun shines through it pushes away, it pushes ahead, fills the warmth of blue, and leaves a chill instead and, I didn't know that I could be so blind in all that is so real but as illusion dies I see there is so much to be revealed...
"Do ya still wondah what yoah real name is?" Slick-shooter asked me.
"Not really," I answered. "I'm kinda getting attached to Blue."
"Hey Slick..." I started.
"Yeah," He grunted.
"Tomorrow I'm 10," I smiled and gave him a playful push.
"Alright, let's go inside," Slick-Shooter suggested. We walked down to the bunkroom.
"Hey it's the twilight girl!" Spot exclaimed.
"How was it tahnight, Blue?" Eye asked, washing his hands.
"More beautiful then evah!" I slurred lightly.
"Cuz you's were with Slick-Shootah, huh!" Spot suggested slyly. I looked at Spot flabbergasted and looked down to the floor blushing.
I will never see the sky the same way and I will learn to say good-bye to yesterday and I will never cease to fly if held down and I will always reach too high cause I've seen, I've seen twilight.
"Hey you guys, tamorrah Blue toins ten!" Slick-shooter exclaimed, ignoring his brother's comment.
"Oh dat means somethin special is gonna happen tomorrah!" Eye winked at me and I smiled back at him.
So the next day, Spot, Slick, and I went selling. For some reason I wanted to sell even though it was my birthday.
"Hey you guys come look at dis,"Spot said standing in front of a poster on a light pole. "Dis goil gone missin... she looks foimilliar I wondah weah I's seen her?" Spot said to himself. Slick and I walked up to the poster and smiled at each other. On the poster was me.
I was stained by a role in a day not my own but as you walked into my life you showed what needed to be shown.
"Ah, ya probably jus' passed her on dah street one day Spot," Slick said patting his brothers back.
"Yeah, yoah probably right, I's still wondah who she is though," Spot wondered.
"Who cares I bet she's gone now," I smirked and ripped down the poster.
All of a sudden a breeze came and picked up some of Slick's papers, sending them into the street.
"Ah, crap," Slick muttered and ran after them. Spot saw it before I did, and yelled at his brother to get out of the road. I saw it then and as Spot rushed to grab his brother I pulled him back, it just seemed to be the right thing to do.
I always knew what was right just didn't know that I might peal away and choose to see with such a different sight.
Slick was it by a carriage. When the horse suddenly saw Slick-Shooter he startled it, sending the horse rearing on it's hind legs, one of them hitting Slick in the head, sending him to the ground. When the horses foot came crashing down it landed on Slick-Shooter's chest the cracking noise so loud to me that I covered my ears even though the sound echoed in my head. The driver leapt off the carriage and knelt down by Slick, moving his horse out of the way. Spot and I ran to Slick, his eyes staring upward and starting to glaze over.
"You guys, it's kind of obvious, but I's ain't gonna make it," Slick whispered to us. Tears fell in rivers down my cheeks as he said this.
"You have to, you're the only and best friend I've ever had," I sobbed
"I'm sorry kids," The driver muttered. Spot stood white faced and speechless over his brother's body.
"Spot, take good care of Blue foah me will ya?" Slick tried to smile. Spot nodded, his eyes shiny with tears. Slick-Shooter squeezed my hand and smiled. He closed his eyes and left me forever.
Then I realized. Today I was 10. It was my birthday. This was my something special. And I hated it.
Present (1899)
Today I'm in a graveyard, standing over Slick-Shooters grave, twilight washed over my face.
I will never see the sky the same way and I will learn to say good bye to yesterday and I will never cease to fly if held down and I will always reach too high, cause I've seen, I've seen twilight.
Today I turn 17. Today Slick-Shooter died.