"So have you heard the latest? Turns out Snoozah's got some serious skeletons in 'er closet…"
"Skeletons? What are you talkin' about?"
"Ya know last summer, when the strike was in full swing..."
"Sure..."
"Ya know how she wasn't around during it? Told Jack she had to go help her dyin' grandmother or something."
"So what? She had to go help out 'er family. It was understandable."
"She didn't."
The newsie lowered the glass she had been sipping liquor out of. "Huh?"
"She didn't go help out her family. She lied."
"What?"
"She worked for Pulitzer…as some kinda informant. A spy. She leaked information about what the newsies were doin'."
"Holy shit, you sure?"
"That's what I heard."
It was all very odd. No one would look Snoozah in the eye. Not her closest friends, hell, not even the people she considered enemies. It was a very strange feeling, Snoozah thought, to walk down the street, a pile of newspapers on her shoulder, and have each and every person she saw avoid her stare. What was the matter with them all? She had thought newsies stuck together.
So maybe that sounded hypocritical, coming from her. No one had to know that.
The barrier of silence was broken when Snoozah finally lost her temper. She stomped up to Illusion, who was lounging on one of the broken down chairs placed haphazardly in the front room of the Lodging House and ripped the book that had been sitting on her lap out of her grasp. Slightly annoyed at the interruption—she had just gotten to her favorite place in the novel—Illusion looked up, her exasperated expression changing to one of shock when she realized who the book-snatcher was.
"What the—"
"What the hell is going on?" Snoozah demanded, cutting her off. She didn't need any bullshit right now; she was at the end of her rope as it was.
Illusion blinked for a moment, seeming to mull this question over, before crossing her arms and shrugging. "I don't know what you're talking about." Her face was expressionless as she studied the girl standing before her.
"Cut the crap, Illusion. People 'ave been acting like I'm invisible the whole God damn day. Now I'll ask you again, and you better answer me this time: What the hell is goin' on?"
In a huff, Illusion rose from her sedentary position, brushing hair from her spinach-colored eyes as she did. "I think if you really want to know, Snoozah, you'll go talk to Jack." She smiled sweetly as she seized the book from Snoozah's hand. "He'll explain everything, I'm sure."
"Where is he?"
Illusion was already halfway up the stairs, but she paused, glaring at Snoozah over her shoulder. "Take a wild guess."
Snoozah burst into Tibby's in such a panic that she nearly mowed down a bewildered-looking couple as she did so. Choosing to ignore their whiney complaints of the "rude and uncouth lowlifes" that were taking over their fair city rather then argue, Snoozah pushed by them, craning her neck to seek out Jack Kelly's familiar face.
It didn't take very long for her to pick him out of the late-lunchtime crowd. He was laughing, rather loudly, over something one of the others had said as the crowd ofnewsies hunched around their usual corner table. A haze of cigar smoke hung over their capped heads, and Snoozah thought she saw the flash of playing cards from her position at the front of the room. Wonderful. She was interrupting a card game.
Yet she was determined to discover what was going on, and with clenched fists Snoozah marched up to the table and cleared her throat loudly, loudly enough for each person to stop in their conversation and peer up at her. No one spoke for a brief moment, until Gypsy, who was sitting removed from the card-playing boys decided it might as well be her. No one else seemed to have the balls to do it. " Snoozah. What a uh…surprise." She sent her best fake smile in the other girl's direction.
It went unnoticed. Everything did, in fact, except for Jack and his smug expression. Snoozah stared pointedly at him. "Jack, we need to talk."
"Hm?" Jack murmured, pretending that he had just realized Snoozah was standing before him. "Oh, sure thing, Snoozah…after I'm done here."
"No. We need to talk right now." The commanding tone in her voice was unmistakable. All eyes turned, shocked, to glare at Snoozah. As if she needed something else to make them dislike her.
"You gonna let one of your newsies talk to you like that, Jackie-boy?" Spot Conlon, up in Manhattan that day to attend to some business with his girlfriend Stripes in tow, arched an eyebrow. If this were his territory, the girl would've been down and unconscious on the floor about ten seconds after she spat such challenging words. Spot smiled at the thought.
Jack shifted, somewhat uncomfortable. Snoozah was right, they did need to talk. But now? Here? The girl seemed determined to make Jack look like an ass in front of Spot Conlon. He could just imagine the rumor mill working...Jack Kelly, leader of Manhattan and the newsies strike, gets bossed around by scrappy little girls. "I said it'd have to wait, Snoozah." A muscle twitched in his cheek as he looked at her.
Chiriklo, a quiet girl with thick black curls spilling down her back, stood up slowly. She rarely spoke, a trait that imbued all sorts of power in the rare words that did come out of her mouth. "This seems to be a matter between Jack and…" she paused, looking at Snoozah for a moment with a disdainful expression. "…Her. I don't want to get involved, to be honest. I am leaving." Her heavily accented statement seemed to turn some switch in the rest of the newsies. Slowly, Gypsy, Bumlets, Snitch and Cyanne rose from their seats and drifted off, sending glares in Snoozah's direction as they did. Soon the corner table was empty save for Spot and Stripes, who both watched Snoozah with gazes painted with a mixture of dislike and disappointment.
She cast a suspicious glance toward the Brooklynites. "I—"
"Anything you have to say to me, Spot can hear too," Jack announced. Stripes nodded, smirking slightly, which made Snoozah bristle even more. It seemed that a condescending attitude was a side-effect of sleeping with the diminutive Brooklyn leader. Among other things, Snoozah was sure. Other itching, burning, uncomfortable things.
She almost smiled at the though, but caught herself. Instead, she sent her best glare to the trio sitting before her.
"I want to know what the hell is goin' on," she said, "no one's said a word to me since the distribution center this morning, and…I figured you'd be the best person to ask about it."
"Yeah," Jack nodded, "well…" he cleared his throat, wondering how to word this so that Snoozah wouldn't jump on him, fists flying, the moment he finished. "…I've been talkin' to a lot of the others and…well, I think it's time for you to leave." He paused to let this news sink in.
It didn't take long. "What? Leave? What are you talking about?"
"Well" Jack began, struggling with the words. He wasn't a malevolent guy by nature. He found no pleasure in being a cruel and cold leader. No one could say that Jack Kelly abused his position. Not really. But in this particular situation...well, things were different. Snoozah deserved everything she got.
"Let me, Jack," Spot cut in, licking his lips like a lion going in for the kill. He lived for stuff like this. "To be blunt, uh, Snoozah, is it?" She opened her mouth to protest his patronizing manner, but Spot held up a hand. "The Manhattan newsies don't tolerate traitors. That's it, cut an' dry." He sat back, Jack nodding in silent agreement.
Snoozah felt like she'd been punched in the stomach. They knew.
"Traitor? What are ya talkin' about?" She had to at least try to get herself out of this mess.
"Cut the crap, Snoozah. We all know what ya did last summer. During the strike." It seemed that Jack had snapped into angry-leader mode suddenly, and now he glared openly at her. "If I remember correctly, you had to go an' help your grandmother in Boston. She was sick, right? Dying, even." Snoozah could only nod, blinking back the tears that were glazing her eyes. Her quick wit was lost. She felt like she was drowning. "Well" Jack continued, his voice becoming louder and angrier as he did so, "unless your dying grandma was God damn Pulitzer, that was quite a fast one you pulled on us. No wonder we had so many problems…what with you leaking every move we made to that maniac"
Snoozah swallowed hard. She had nothing to say because, frankly, Jack was right. She had gone to work for Pulitzer during the strike. She was starving and scared and young…a new recruit to the work of selling newspapers, with no emotional connection to the raggedy group, and no intention of sticking around after the summer faded away. But…things changed, as they tend to do, and Snoozah found herself remaining in Manhattan, praying her wrong choice would stay a secret. At her stunned silence, Jack shook his head.
"You collect your stuff and say your goodbyes'…I wantcha out by five o'clock."
Snoozah shut her eyes for a brief moment to block out the sight of Stripes and Spot smirking at each other. Then, with a heaving chest, she turned and ran back to the lodging house, where she hoped she would run into no one.
Much to her dismay, however, she did run into someone while shoving her meager belongings into a satchel that had seen better days at the Manhattan Lodging House. Specs Halloway walked up behind her without a sound and coughed slightly, making Snoozah spin around, fists clenched, immediately on the defense.
She visibly relaxed upon seeing it was her boyfriend who was standing before her, and not anyone else. Her arms automatically went to encircle Specs' neck, but he intercepted the movement, pushing them down, shaking his head sadly.
"I just wanted to say goodbye" he said softly. Snoozah's face fell, and without so much as a word she turned again to her bunk, shoving her spare shirt into the bag that lay on the bed. She could hear Specs emit a heavy sigh behind her and tried hard to remain unaffected. If he did not care enough to stand up for his girl, he certainly did not care enough, period. And Snoozah wasted six months on him? What a joke. "Snoozah, As much as I care about you, there's nothing I can do about this." He hesitated, then asked, "it's really true?" A hint of hopefulness colored his question.
"Yeah, it's fuckin' true," she spat. There was no use lying now. They wouldn't believe her if she tried to lie, anyway. All she had to focus on now was getting the hell out of there.
"Christ..." Specs breathed, "why'd you do it, Snoozah? Huh? Why"
Snoozah slammed her bag closed and turned once again to face him. "I'm just a terrible person, is all." She shot back sarcastically. He would never understand. Specs, who worked things out so simply. This was his home. His friends. Hell, they were his family. He could not fit his white-knight mind around such a thing as betrayal. Never would be able to. With a frustrated sigh Snoozah pushed by him, hoping that he would remain in the bunkroom as she left.
No such luck.
"Where you gonna go?" he asked, following her down the stairs to the front door. She paused, a hand on the knob.
"I dunno. I'll find a job somewhere nice and far away. Don't you worry about me." Again, the sarcasm in her voice was hard to miss. "Have a nice life, Specs."
With that, she was out the door and out of Specs' life forever.
It had been maybe a week since Snoozah DeMasi had been expelled from the close-knit group of Manhattan newsies, and it had taken even less time for her to realize that the rest of New York City was most certainly not like the little slice the newsies dominated. She couldn't remember the last time she had eaten, which scared her somewhat, but what scared her more was the complete lack of jobs to be had in the dismal city for a young lady of questionable history. There were over a million people who lived there; surely, Snoozah thought, she could find a decent paying job. It didn't even have to be a respectable one.
Driven nearly to breaking point by hunger and cold, Snoozah's common sense melted away as easily as the snowflakes that met their fate on the dirty sidewalk. Picking out an oblivious-looking vendor selling delicious smelling hot sausages near Grand Central Station, she strolled up, grabbed a few, and began to hurry away. It took perhaps fifteen seconds for the vendor, a huge, hairy Italian, to seize her wrist, screaming something very loudly in his native tongue, and thirty more for two police officers to come running over to investigate the commotion. It was as if Snoozah was watching the scene happen to someone else. The shouting vendor, the cops each taking hold of one of her puny arms, dragging her off to the nearest police station. Caught? Snoozah never got caught. Her world was crashing down around her.
At the station, she was pushed into a hard wooden chair by one of the officers, a middle-aged man with thick black eyebrows and an even thicker waistline, and told not to move under penalty of extreme pain. Numb, Snoozah nodded. She didn't have the energy to care anymore. At least now she was warm.
Soon, however, as her extremities regained feeling and her brain thawed, Snoozah became more aware of her surrounds. As her dark eyes flitted around the busy room, a familiar face caught her eye. He was seated in a similar wooden chair to the one she was perched on, his face angled towards the floor. Snoozah stared openly, gears in her mind cranking. Suddenly it hit her, just as the pudgy officer that seemed to be in charge of dealing with her returned.
"Why isn't he wearing a uniform?" Snoozah asked, pointing across the room to the slumped figure.
"Him?" The officer's gaze followed her finger, a quizzical expression on his face. "He's just a local loony. Why would he be wearing a uniform?" He shook his head, grabbing her arm. "C'mon now, young lady. It's off to the refuge with you."
Snoozah's heart skipped a beat, and she opened her mouth to explain to the officer before her that of course, that man across the room, Tommy Dugan, was a cop. Of course he was. She knew him.
But her tongue felt like lead in her mouth, and as much as she wanted to say anything at all, not a sound came out. Instead, she stood up obediently, weary and exhausted, thinking now only of perhaps how she might get something to eat at the refuge. Something hot. That'd be nice.
In silence, the officer led her toward the door, pushing herinto a cart headed for the one building in the city each and every child of the streets feared.