*****
The room had quieted at Spot's call, the boys turning to search for the one who had spoken. Spot clambered up to stand on the surface of the rough wooden table, raising his arms to draw everyone's eyes. His face was alight and his voice had a strength to it that commanded the total attention of all 500 upturned faces.
"Why are you walkin'away?" Spot asked loudly, pointing to the boys nearest the door.
There was some shuffling and confusion, then one boy spoke up. "There ain't nothin' here. We gots ta go to work or we won't get dinner neither. And maybe a beatin'."
"Wrong. That's why you's scared. But why're you walkin' away?"
A perplexed murmur spread through the room. Spot yelled to quiet it.
"Hey!" Silence once more. "So you just gonna walk away from this? You gonna let them think they have the right to make us starve and freeze and then work our asses off for their own profit?"
The hush in the room was uncomfortable as Spot's eyes roamed over every face.
"Well, I'm not. I ain't gonna do no work today."
"Look at him," he continued, pointing to Mitch's thin unconscious form, stretched out along the floor with his buddy Ally's coat for a blanket. "He's nine years old. Been in here for six months cause he stole an apple. He was HUNGRY. Have they taught him nothin'? Have they taught him how to go out and find ways to live what don't involve stealin'? NO. Instead they starved him and made him do the work of a grown man and then beat him when he cried."
Everyone gazed at Mitch, and a few hard hungry faces softened somewhat as they looked at his pale face.
"I don't know about you. But I gots RIGHTS. I'm in here 'cause I'm thirteen years old, with no one to speak for me. But I got myself, I got my own voice. And there is no fat rich guy with a whipping cane who can make me forget that I'm human. The folks who live off our work, they think they can make us silent just as easy as they can make us hungry. But are they RIGHT?"
There was a long, long pause in the room. Everyone wanted to speak. No one had the courage to be the first.
"No," said Jack.
All faces turned to look at him, and a few echoed. "No," "No way," "Tell'em, Spot."
Mike spoke up from his place at the corner of Spot's table, looking challengingly up into his face. "So what do you want us to do about it? Yeah, we all hate the Refuge. But they're the one that got the keys."
"And there are five hundred of us and about thirty of them."
"So what are you saying? That we kill em all?" A ripple went through the room at Mike's words. Some boys were shocked, while the tougher ones muttered suppressed approval.
"I say we leave. Soak any bastard that tries to stand in our way. No way can they round up five hundred kids in a city with half a million people in it."
"How?" said Mitch timidly from beneath his blanket.
Spot paused for a moment, thinking. All eyes were on him. No one dared to move or even breathe loudly.
Then, with a tiny, cocky grin, Spot hopped off the table. "Don't matter how. We just do it."
The silence lasted for only a few seconds as Spot walked confidently towards the door. Then a roar started from the middle of the room and spread outwards until every boy was cheering, running, screaming, pressing in a massive, tumbling mob towards the doorway and streaming out into the hall, with pride and vengeance on every face.
The room had quieted at Spot's call, the boys turning to search for the one who had spoken. Spot clambered up to stand on the surface of the rough wooden table, raising his arms to draw everyone's eyes. His face was alight and his voice had a strength to it that commanded the total attention of all 500 upturned faces.
"Why are you walkin'away?" Spot asked loudly, pointing to the boys nearest the door.
There was some shuffling and confusion, then one boy spoke up. "There ain't nothin' here. We gots ta go to work or we won't get dinner neither. And maybe a beatin'."
"Wrong. That's why you's scared. But why're you walkin' away?"
A perplexed murmur spread through the room. Spot yelled to quiet it.
"Hey!" Silence once more. "So you just gonna walk away from this? You gonna let them think they have the right to make us starve and freeze and then work our asses off for their own profit?"
The hush in the room was uncomfortable as Spot's eyes roamed over every face.
"Well, I'm not. I ain't gonna do no work today."
"Look at him," he continued, pointing to Mitch's thin unconscious form, stretched out along the floor with his buddy Ally's coat for a blanket. "He's nine years old. Been in here for six months cause he stole an apple. He was HUNGRY. Have they taught him nothin'? Have they taught him how to go out and find ways to live what don't involve stealin'? NO. Instead they starved him and made him do the work of a grown man and then beat him when he cried."
Everyone gazed at Mitch, and a few hard hungry faces softened somewhat as they looked at his pale face.
"I don't know about you. But I gots RIGHTS. I'm in here 'cause I'm thirteen years old, with no one to speak for me. But I got myself, I got my own voice. And there is no fat rich guy with a whipping cane who can make me forget that I'm human. The folks who live off our work, they think they can make us silent just as easy as they can make us hungry. But are they RIGHT?"
There was a long, long pause in the room. Everyone wanted to speak. No one had the courage to be the first.
"No," said Jack.
All faces turned to look at him, and a few echoed. "No," "No way," "Tell'em, Spot."
Mike spoke up from his place at the corner of Spot's table, looking challengingly up into his face. "So what do you want us to do about it? Yeah, we all hate the Refuge. But they're the one that got the keys."
"And there are five hundred of us and about thirty of them."
"So what are you saying? That we kill em all?" A ripple went through the room at Mike's words. Some boys were shocked, while the tougher ones muttered suppressed approval.
"I say we leave. Soak any bastard that tries to stand in our way. No way can they round up five hundred kids in a city with half a million people in it."
"How?" said Mitch timidly from beneath his blanket.
Spot paused for a moment, thinking. All eyes were on him. No one dared to move or even breathe loudly.
Then, with a tiny, cocky grin, Spot hopped off the table. "Don't matter how. We just do it."
The silence lasted for only a few seconds as Spot walked confidently towards the door. Then a roar started from the middle of the room and spread outwards until every boy was cheering, running, screaming, pressing in a massive, tumbling mob towards the doorway and streaming out into the hall, with pride and vengeance on every face.
